"No," I replied, "I am travelling the country, and shall only put up there for the night""You had better stay here," said the young fellow. "You will be better accommodated here than at the 'Pump Saint.'""Very likely," said I; "but I have resolved to go there, and when Ionce make a resolution I never alter it."Then bidding him good evening I departed. Had I formed no resolution at all about stopping at the 'Pump Saint,' I certainly should not have stayed in this house, which had all the appearance of a trampers' hostelry, and though I am very fond of the conversation of trampers, who are the only people from whom you can learn anything, I would much rather have the benefit of it abroad than in their own lairs. A little farther down I met a woman coming up the ascent. She was tolerably respectably dressed, seemed about five-and-thirty, and was rather good-looking. She walked somewhat slowly, which was probably more owing to a large bundle which she bore in her hand than to her path being up-hill.
"Good evening," said I, stopping.
"Good evening, your honour," said she, stopping and brightly panting.
"Do you come from far?" said I.
"Not very far, your honour, but quite far enough for a poor feeble woman.""Are you Welsh?" said I.
"Och no! your honour; I am Mary Bane from Dunmanway in the kingdom of Ireland.""And what are you doing here?" said I.
"Och sure! I am travelling the country with soft goods.""Are you going far?" said I.
"Merely to the village a little farther up, your honour.""I am going farther," said I, "I am thinking of passing the night at the 'Pump Saint.'""Well, then, I would just advise your honour to do no such thing, but to turn back with me to the village above, where there is an illigant inn where your honour will be well accommodated.""Oh, I saw that as I came past," said I; "I don't think there is much accommodation there.""Oh, your honour is clane mistaken; there is always an illigant fire and an illigant bed too.""Is there only one bed?" said I.
"Oh, yes, there are two beds, one for the accommodation of the people of the house and the other for that of the visitors.""And do the visitors sleep together then?" said I.
"Oh yes! unless they wish to be unsociable. Those who are not disposed to be sociable sleeps in the chimney-corners.""Ah," said I, "I see it is a very agreeable inn; however, I shall go on to the 'Pump Saint.'""I am sorry for it, your honour, for your honour's sake; your honour won't be half so illigantly served at the 'Pump Saint' as there above.""Of what religion are you?" said I.
"Oh, I'm a Catholic, just like your honour, for if I am not clane mistaken your honour is an Irishman.""Who is your spiritual director?" said I.
"Why, then, it is just Father Toban, your honour, whom of course your honour knows.""Oh yes!" said I; "when you next see him present my respects to him.""What name shall I mention, your honour?""Shorsha Borroo," said I.
"Oh, then I was right in taking your honour for an Irishman. None but a raal Paddy bears that name. A credit to your honour is your name, for it is a famous name, (17) and a credit to your name is your honour, for it is a neat man without a bend you are. God bless your honour and good night! and may you find dacent quarters in the 'Pump Saint.'"Leaving Mary Bane I proceeded on my way. The evening was rather fine but twilight was coming rapidly on. I reached the bottom of the valley and soon overtook a young man dressed something like a groom. We entered into conversation. He spoke Welsh and a little English. His Welsh I had great difficulty in understanding, as it was widely different from that which I had been accustomed to. He asked me where I was going to; I replied to the "Pump Saint," and then enquired if he was in service.
"I am," said he.
"With whom do you live?" said I.
"With Mr Johnes of Dol Cothi," he answered.
Struck by the word Cothi, I asked if Dol Cothi was ever called Glyn Cothi.
"Oh yes," said he, "frequently."
"How odd," thought I to myself, "that I should have stumbled all of a sudden upon the country of my old friend Lewis Glyn Cothi, the greatest poet after Ab Gwilym of all Wales!""Is Cothi a river?" said I to my companion.
"It is," said he.
Presently we came to a bridge over a small river.
"Is this river the Cothi?" said I.
"No," said he, "this is the Twrch; the bridge is called Pont y Twrch.""The bridge of Twrch or the hog," said I to myself; "there is a bridge of the same name in the Scottish Highlands, not far from the pass of the Trossachs. I wonder whether it has its name from the same cause as this, namely, from passing over a river called the Twrch or Torck, which word in Gaelic signifies boar or hog even as it does in Welsh." It had now become nearly dark. After proceeding some way farther I asked the groom if we were far from the inn of the "Pump Saint.""Close by," said he, and presently pointing to a large building on the right-hand side he said: "This is the inn of the 'Pump Saint,'
sir. Nos Da'chi!"
