h is
just below it, was quite invisible. I could see, however, the pot or
crochan distinctly enough, and a horrible sight it presented. The waters
were whirling round in a manner to describe which any word but frenzied
would be utterly powerless. Half-an-hour's walking brought me to the
little village through which I had passed the day before. Going up to a
house I knocked at the door, and a middle-aged man opening it, I asked
him the way to the Bridge of the Minister. He pointed to the little
chapel to the west, and said that the way lay past it, adding that he
would go with me himself, as he wanted to go to the hills on the other
side to see his sheep.

We got presently into discourse. He at first talked broken English, but
soon began to speak his native language. I asked him if the chapel
belonged to the Methodists.

"It is not a chapel," said he, "it is a church."

"Do many come to it?" said I.

"Not many, sir, for the Methodists are very powerful here. Not more than
forty or fifty come."

"Do you belong to the Church?" said I.

"I do, sir--thank God!"

"You may well be thankful," said I, "for it is a great privilege to
belong to the Church of England."

"It is so, sir," said the man, "though few, alas! think so."

I found him a highly-intelligent person. On my talking to him about the
name of the place, he said that some called it Spytty Cynfyn, and others
Spytty Cynwyl, and that both Cynwyl and Cynfyn were the names of people,
to one or other of which the place was dedicated, and that, like the
place farther on called Spytty Ystwyth, it was in the old time a hospital
or inn for the convenience of the pilgrims going to the great monastery
of Ystrad Flur or Strata Florida.

Passing through a field or two we came to the side of a very deep ravine,
down which there was a zigzag path leading to the bridge. The path was
very steep, and, owing to the rain, exceedingly slippery. For some way
it led through a grove of dwarf oaks, by grasping the branches of which I
was enabled to support myself tolerably well; nearly at the bottom,
however, where the path was most precipitous, the trees ceased
altogether. Fearing to trust my legs, I determined to slide down, and
put my resolution in practice, arriving at a little shelf close by the
bridge without any accident. The man, accustomed to the path, went down
in the usual manner. The bridge consisted of a couple of planks and a
pole flung over a chasm a