ge of the Russians and his own countrymen, had
conceived likely to happen from the beginning. Then came the news of the
commencement of a seemingly interminable siege, and of disasters and
disgraces on the part of the British; there was no more shouting at
Llangollen in connection with the Crimean expedition. But the subject is
a disagreeable one, and the writer will dismiss it after a few brief
words.

It was quite right and consistent with the justice of God that the
British arms should be subjected to disaster and ignominy about that
period. A deed of infamous injustice and cruelty had been perpetrated,
and the perpetrators, instead of being punished, had received applause
and promotion; so if the British expedition to Sebastopol was a
disastrous and ignominious one, who can wonder? Was it likely that the
groans of poor Parry would be unheard from the corner to which he had
retired to hide his head by "the Ancient of days," who sits above the
cloud, and from thence sends judgments?

CHAPTER LVII

The Newspaper--A New Walk--Pentre y Dwr--Oatmeal and Barley-Meal--The Man
on Horseback--Heavy News.

"Dear me," said I to my wife, as I sat by the fire one Saturday morning,
looking at a newspaper which had been sent to us from our own district,
"what is this? Why, the death of our old friend Dr ---. He died last
Tuesday week after a short illness, for he preached in his church at ---
the previous Sunday."

"Poor man!" said my wife. "How sorry I am to hear of his death!
However, he died in the fulness of years, after a long and exemplary
life. He was an excellent man and good Christian shepherd. I knew him
well; you I think only saw him once."

"But I shall never forget him," said I, "nor how animated his features
became when I talked to him about Wales, for he, you know, was a
Welshman. I forgot to ask what part of Wales he came from. I suppose I
shall never know now."

Feeling indisposed either for writing or reading, I determined to take a
walk to Pentre y Dwr, a village in the north-west part of the valley
which I had not yet visited. I purposed going by a path under the
Eglwysig crags which I had heard led thither, and to return by the
monastery. I set out. The day was dull and gloomy. Crossing the canal
I pursued my course by romantic lanes till I found myself under the
crags. The rocky ridge here turns away to the north, having previously
run from the east to the west.

After proceed