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Updated: May 11, 2025
Then you knew my mother?" "Oh, dear me, no! I never even met her. Why THEN?" Her look was mischievous. "But, unless I mistake, I think she came from Hendre Coed, near Bangor." "Wales is a village!" I exclaimed, catching my breath. "Every Welsh person seems to know all about every other." My new acquaintance smiled again.
"Pen y Coed," said I, "means the head of the wood. I suppose that in the old time the mountain looked over some extensive forest, even as the nunnery of Pengwern looked originally over an alder- swamp, for Pengwern means the head of the alder-swamp."
You know Coed is four miles on the other side of Bryngelly, so when you see it head to the left." He obeyed her, and they neither of them spoke any more for some time. Indeed the rising wind made conversation difficult, and so far as Geoffrey was concerned he had little breath left to spare for words.
"There was a time," said my companion, "when it was customary for the English to cut off the ears of every Welshman who was found to the east of the dyke, and for the Welsh to hang every Englishman whom they found to the west of it. Let us be thankful that we are now more humane to each other. We are now on the north side of Pen y Coed. Do you know the meaning of Pen y Coed, sir?"
When we reached Carnarvonshire I found that Sinfi's people were all encamped near to Bettws y Coed, and we went and stayed there. We visited all the places in the neighbourhood that were associated with her childhood and mine. 'You went to Fairy Glen? I said. 'Yes; we went there the night before last and saw it in the moonlight. 'I was there, and I saw you. 'Ah!
When I heard the owl's cry in the groves of Pen y Coed that tale rushed into my mind. I had heard it from the singular groom who had taught me to gabble Welsh in my boyhood, and had subsequently read it in an old tattered Welsh story-book, which by chance fell into my hands. The reader will perhaps be obliged by my relating it.
Noble Eilio to the north; enormous Pen Drws Coed to the south; a tall mountain far beyond them to the east. "I never was in such a lovely spot!" I cried to myself in a perfect rapture. "Oh, how glad I should be to learn the name of this bridge, standing on which I have had 'Heaven opened to me, as my old friends the Spaniards used to say."
I passed by Aber Coed, a homestead near the bottom of a dingle down which runs a brook into the Teivi, which flows here close by the road; then by Aber Carvan, where another brook disembogues. Aber, as perhaps the reader already knows, is a disemboguement, and wherever a place commences with Aber there to a certainty does a river flow into the sea, or a brook or rivulet into a river.
'On the 27th of October, at Brynmor, Bournemouth, Emily Olwen Josephine, widow of the late Thomas Cumberledge, sometime colonel of the 7th Bengal Regiment of Foot, and daughter of Iolo Gwyn Ford, Esq., J.P., of Hendre Coed, near Bangor. Am I correct?" She lifted her dark eyelashes once more and flooded me. "You are quite correct," I answered, surprised.
Uncle Draen y Coed was right, and I must add that I doubt if, in all his experience, or among the strange traditions of his most eccentric ancestors, he could find an instance of change of habits so unexpected, so complete, I may say so headlong, as when very quiet people, with an almost surly attachment to home, break the bounds of the domestic circle, and take to gadding, gossiping, and excitement.
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