We ascended a hill, passed between two
craggy elevations, and then wended to the south-east over a
strange, miry place, in which I thought any one at night not
acquainted with every inch of the way would run imminent risk of
perishing. I entered into conversation with my guide. After a
little time he asked me if I was a Welshman. I told him no.
"You could teach many a Welshman," said he.
"Why do you think so?" said I.
"Because many of your words are quite above my comprehension," said
he.
"No great compliment," thought I to myself; but putting a good face
upon the matter I told him that I knew a great many old Welsh
words.
"Is Potosi an old Welsh word?" said he.
"No," said I; "it is the name of a mine in the Deheubarth of
America."
"Is it a lead mine?"
"No!" said I, "it is a silver mine."
"Then why do they call our mine, which is a lead mine, by the name
of a silver mine?"
"Because they wish to give people to understand," said I, "that it
is very rich - as rich in lead as Potosi in silver. Potosi is, or
was, the richest silver mine in the world, and from it has come at
least one half of the silver which we use in the shape of money and
other things."
"Well," said he, "I have frequently asked, but could never learn
before why our mine was called Potosi.
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