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A woman passed me going towards Rhiwabon; I pointed to the ridge and asked its name; I spoke English. The woman shook her head and replied "Dim Saesneg." "This is as it should be," said I to myself; "I now feel I am in Wales." I repeated the question in Welsh. "Cefn Bach," she replied which signifies the little ridge. "Diolch iti," I replied, and proceeded on my way.
ON the third of October I think that was the date as my family and myself, attended by trusty John Jones, were returning on foot from visiting a park not far from Rhiwabon we heard, when about a mile from Llangollen, a sudden ringing of the bells of the place, and a loud shouting. Presently we observed a postman hurrying in a cart from the direction of the town.
"No," said he, rather shortly, "there's not a glass of good ale in Rhiwabon." "Then why do you go thither?" said I. "Because a pint of bad liquor abroad is better than a quart of good at home," said the landlord, reeling against the hedge. "There are many in a higher station than you who act upon that principle," thought I to myself as I passed on. I soon reached Rhiwabon.
It was not till I had proceeded nearly a mile that I began to be apprehensive that I had mistaken the way. Hearing some people coming towards me on the road I waited till they came up; they proved to be a man and a woman. On my inquiring whether I was right for Llangollen, the former told me that I was not, and in order to get there it was necessary that I should return to Rhiwabon.
Rhiwabon Road The Public-house Keeper No Welsh The Wrong Road The Good Wife. I PAID my reckoning and started. The night was now rapidly closing in.
We set out; my guide conducted me along the bank of the Camlas in the direction of Rhiwabon, that is towards the east. On the way we discoursed on various subjects, and understood each other tolerably well. I asked if he had been anything besides a weaver. He told me that when a boy he kept sheep on the mountain. "Why did you not go on keeping sheep?" said "I would rather keep sheep than weave."
A little over-praise by a great deal of underrating a gleam of good fortune by a night of misery." I now saw Wrexham Church at about the distance of three miles, and presently entered a lane which led gently down from the hills, which were the same heights I had seen on my right hand, some months previously, on my way from Wrexham to Rhiwabon.
I passed some huge black buildings which a man told me were collieries, and several carts laden with coal, and soon came to Rhiwabon a large village about half way between Wrexham and Llangollen. I observed in this place nothing remarkable, but an ancient church. My way from hence lay nearly west. I ascended a hill, from the top of which I looked down into a smoky valley.
It lighted up the south-western sky; then there were two other glares nearer to me, seemingly divided by a lump of something, perhaps a grove of trees. Walking very fast I soon overtook a man. I knew him at once by his staggering gait. "Ah, landlord!" said I; "whither bound?" "To Rhiwabon," said he, huskily, "for a pint." "Is the ale so good at Rhiwabon," said I, "that you leave home for it?"
After some hesitation I turned to the east by the well- defined path, and by so doing went wrong, as I soon found. I mounted the side of a brown hill covered with moss-like grass, and here and there heather. By the time I arrived at the top of the hill the sun shone out, and I saw Rhiwabon and Cefn Mawr before me in the distance. "I am going wrong," said I; "I should have kept on due north.
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