al of the
ecclesiastical cat; it would of course not do to leave it in the garden
to the tender mercies of the Calvinistic Methodists of the neighbourhood,
more especially those of the flannel manufactory, and my wife and
daughter could hardly carry it with them. At length we thought of
applying to a young woman of sound church principles, who was lately
married and lived over the water on the way to the railroad station, with
whom we were slightly acquainted, to take charge of the animal, and she
on the first intimation of our wish, willingly acceded to it. So with
her poor puss was left along with a trifle for its milk-money, and with
her, as we subsequently learned, it continued in peace and comfort till
one morning it sprang suddenly from the hearth into the air, gave a mew,
and died. So much for the ecclesiastical cat!

The morning of Tuesday was rather fine, and Mr Ebenezer E---, who had
heard of our intended departure, came to invite us to spend the evening
at the Vicarage. His father had left Llangollen the day before for
Chester, where he expected to be detained some days. I told him we
should be most happy to come. He then asked me to take a walk. I agreed
with pleasure, and we set out, intending to go to Llansilio at the
western end of the valley and look at the church. The church was an
ancient building. It had no spire, but had the little erection on its
roof, so usual to Welsh churches, for holding a bell.

In the churchyard is a tomb in which an old squire of the name of Jones
was buried about the middle of the last century. There is a tradition
about this squire and tomb to the following effect. After the squire's
death there was a lawsuit about his property, in consequence of no will
having been found. It was said that his will had been buried with him in
the tomb, which after some time was opened, but with what success the
tradition sayeth not.

In the evening we went to the Vicarage. Besides the family and ourselves
there was Mr R--- and one or two more. We had a very pleasant party; and
as most of those present wished to hear something connected with Spain, I
talked much about that country, sang songs of Germania, and related in an
abridged form Lope de Vega's ghost story, which is decidedly the best
ghost story in the world.

In the afternoon of Wednesday I went and took leave of certain friends in
the town; amongst others of old Mr Jones. On my telling him that I was
about to lea