"
He entered two or three cottages by the side of the road, and each
time he came out I heard him say: "I am with a Sais who can speak
Cumraeg." At length we came to a gloomy-looking valley trending
due north; down this valley the road ran, having an enormous wall
of rocks on its right and a precipitous hollow on the left, beyond
which was a wall equally high as the other one. When we had
proceeded some way down the road my guide said. "You shall now
hear a wonderful echo," and shouting "taw, taw," the rocks replied
in a manner something like the baying of hounds. "Hark to the
dogs!" exclaimed my companion. "This pass is called Nant yr ieuanc
gwn, the pass of the young dogs, because when one shouts it answers
with a noise resembling the crying of hounds."
The sun was setting when we came to a small village at the bottom
of the pass. I asked my companion its name. "Ty yn y maes," he
replied, adding as he stopped before a small cottage that he was
going no farther, as he dwelt there.
"Is there a public-house here?" said I.
"There is," he replied, "you will find one a little farther up on
the right hand."
"Come, and take some ale," said I.
"No," said he.
"Why not?" I demanded.
"I am a teetotaler," he replied.
"Indeed," said I, and having shaken him by the hand, thanked him
for his company and bidding him farewell, went on.
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