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Updated: May 28, 2025
I passed through a small village, the name of which I think was Cynmen, and presently overtook a man and boy. The man saluted me in English, and I entered into conversation with him in that language. He told me that he came from Llan Gedwin, and was going to a place called Gwern something, in order to fetch home some sheep. After a time he asked me where I was going.
"To Llan Rhyadr," said I, "from which I came this morning." "Which way did you come?" said the man. "By Llan Gedwin," I replied, "and over the hill. Is there another way?" "There is," said the man, "by Llan Silin." "Llan Silin!" said I; "is not that the place where Huw Morris is buried?" "It is," said the man.
"You must turn to the left," said he, "before you come to yon great house, follow the path which you will find behind it, and you will soon be in Sychnant." "And to whom does the great house belong?" "To whom? why, to Sir Watkin." "Does he reside there?" "Not often. He has plenty of other houses, but he sometimes comes there to hunt." "What is the place's name?" "Llan Gedwin."
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