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It turned out to be a volume of Welsh poems entitled "Blodau Glyn Dyfi"; or, Flowers of Glyn Dyfi, by one Lewis Meredith, whose poetical name is Lewis Glyn Dyfi. The author indites his preface from Cemmaes, June, 1852. The best piece is called Dyffryn Dyfi, and is descriptive of the scenery of the vale through which the Dyfi runs.
Unless we count the inn at Cemmaes, where he took vengeance on the suspicious people by using his note-book in an obvious manner, "now skewing at an object, now leering at an individual," he was only once thoroughly put out, and that was at Beth Gelert by a Scotchman: which suggests a great deal of amiability, on one side, considering that Borrow's Welsh was book-Welsh, execrably pronounced.
That was too much for them. As if struck by a panic, my quondam friends turned round and bolted into the house; the rustic-looking man with the smock-frock and gravelled highlows nearly falling down in his eagerness to get in. The name of the place where this adventure occurred was Cemmaes.
The Deaf Man Funeral Procession The Lone Family The Welsh and their Secrets The Vale of the Dyfi The Bright Moon. A LITTLE way from Cemmaes I saw a respectable-looking old man like a little farmer, to whom I said: "How far to Machynlleth?" Looking at me in a piteous manner in the face he pointed to the side of his head, and said "Dim clywed."
I took off my hat and stood close against the hedge on the right-hand side till the dead had passed me some way to its final home. Crossed a river, which like that on the other side of Cemmaes streamed down from a gulley between two hills into the valley of the Dyfi. Beyond the bridge on the right-hand side of the road was a pretty cottage, just as there was in the other locality.
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