After
I had passed through the village, seeing a woman seated by the
roadside knitting, I asked her in English its name. Finding she
had no Saesneg I repeated the question in Welsh, whereupon she told
me that it was called Pentre Voelas.
"And whom does the 'Plas' belong to yonder amongst the groves?"
said I.
"It belongs to Mr Wynn, sir, and so does the village and a great
deal of the land about here. A very good gentleman is Mr Wynn,
sir; he is very kind to his tenants and a very good lady is Mrs
Wynn, sir; in the winter she gives much soup to the poor."
After leaving the village of Pentre Voelas I soon found myself in a
wild hilly region. I crossed a bridge over a river, which,
brawling and tumbling amidst rocks, shaped its course to the north-
east. As I proceeded, the country became more and more wild; there
were dingles and hollows in abundance, and fantastic-looking hills,
some of which were bare, and others clad with trees of various
kinds. Came to a little well in a cavity, dug in a high bank on
the left-hand side of the road, and fenced by rude stone work on
either side; the well was about ten inches in diameter, and as many
deep. Water oozing from the bank upon a slanting tile fastened
into the earth fell into it.
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