d had not the key, and told me that he imagined
there would be some difficulty in procuring it. I was therefore obliged
to content myself with peeping through a window into the interior, which
had a solemn and venerable aspect.

"Within there," said I to myself, "Huw Morris, the greatest songster of
the seventeenth century, knelt every Sunday during the latter thirty
years of his life, after walking from Pont y Meibion across the bleak and
savage Berwyn. Within there was married Barbara Wynn, the Rose of
Maelai, to Richard Middleton, the handsome cavalier of Maelor, and within
there she lies buried, even as the songster who lamented her untimely
death in immortal verse lies buried out here in the graveyard. What
interesting associations has this church for me, both outside and in, but
all connected with Huw; for what should I have known of Barbara, the
Rose, and gallant Richard but for the poem on their affectionate union
and untimely separation, the dialogue between the living and the dead,
composed by humble Huw, the farmer's son of Ponty y Meibion?"

After gazing through the window till my eyes watered I turned to the
innkeeper, and inquired the way to Llan Rhyadr. Having received from him
the desired information I thanked him for his civility, and set out on my
return.

Before I could get clear of the town I suddenly encountered my friend
R---, the clever lawyer and magistrate's clerk of Llangollen.

"I little expected to see you here," said he.

"Nor I you," I replied.

"I came in my official capacity," said he; "the petty sessions have been
held here to-day."

"I know they have," I replied; "and that two poachers have been
convicted. I came here on my way to South Wales to see the grave of Huw
Morris, who, as you know, is buried in the churchyard."

"Have you seen the clergyman?" said R---.

"No," I replied.

"Then come with me," said he; "I am now going to call upon him. I know
he will be rejoiced to make your acquaintance."

He led me to the clergyman's house, which stood at the south-west end of
the village within a garden fenced with an iron paling. We found the
clergyman in a nice comfortable parlour or study, the sides of which were
decorated with books. He was a sharp clever-looking man, of about the
middle age. On my being introduced to him he was very glad to see me, as
my friend R--- told me he would be. He seemed to know all about me, even
that I understood Welsh. We conversed on