hing for them; I mean the noises made by the
spirits of the hill in the mine. Sometimes they make such noises as
frighten the poor fellow who works underground out of his senses. Once
on a time I was working by myself very deep underground, in a little
chamber to which a very deep shaft led. I had just taken up my light to
survey my work, when all of a sudden I heard a dreadful rushing noise, as
if an immense quantity of earth had come tumbling down. 'Oh God!' said
I, and fell backwards, letting the light fall, which instantly went out.
I thought the whole shaft had given way, and that I was buried alive. I
lay for several hours half stupefied, thinking now and then what a
dreadful thing it was to be buried alive. At length I thought I would
get up, go to the mouth of the shaft, feel the mould, with which it was
choked up, and then come back, lie down, and die. So I got up and
tottered to the mouth of the shaft, put out my hand and felt--nothing;
all was clear. I went forward, and presently felt the ladder. Nothing
had fallen; all was just the same as when I came down. I was dreadfully
afraid that I should never be able to get up in the dark without breaking
my neck; however, I tried, and at last, with a great deal of toil and
danger, got to a place where other men were working. The noise was
caused by the spirits of the hill in the hope of driving the miner out of
his senses. They very nearly succeeded. I shall never forget how I felt
when I thought I was buried alive. If it were not for those noises in
the hill, the life of a miner would be quite heaven below."

We came to a cottage standing under a hillock, down the side of which
tumbled a streamlet close by the northern side of the building. The door
was open, and inside were two or three females and some children. "Have
you any enwyn?" said the lad, peeping in.

"Oh yes!" said a voice--"digon! digon!" Presently a buxom, laughing girl
brought out two dishes of buttermilk, one of which she handed to me and
the other to the guide. I asked her the name of the place.

"Gwen Frwd--the 'Fair Rivulet,'" said she.

"Who lives here?"

"A shepherd."

"Have you any English?"

"Nagos!" said she, bursting into a loud laugh. "What should we do with
English here?" After we had drunk the buttermilk I offered the girl some
money, but she drew back her hand angrily, and said: "We don't take money
from tired strangers for two drops of buttermilk; there's plen