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Updated: June 10, 2025
He glared at me malignantly, then, taking the pipe out of his mouth, said that he did not know, that he had been down below to inquire and light his pipe, but could get neither light nor answer from the children. I asked him where he came from, but he evaded the question by asking where I was going to. "To the Pont y Gwr Drwg," said I. He then asked me if I was an Englishman.
As we went along I stopped to gaze at a singular-looking hill forming part of the mountain range on the east. I asked John Jones what its name was, but he did not know. As we were standing talking about it, a lady came up from the direction in which our course lay. John Jones, touching his hat to her, said: "Madam, this gwr boneddig wishes to know the name of that moel, perhaps you can tell him."
His companion now looking at our habiliments which were in rather a dripping condition asked John Jones if we had come from far. "We have been to Pont y Meibion," said Jones, "to see the chair of Huw Morris," adding that the Gwr Boneddig was a great admirer of the songs of the Eos Ceiriog.
She then left the room and presently returned with the cook, a short, thick girl with blue staring eyes. "Here she is, sir," said the landlady, "but she has no English." "All the better," said I. "So you come from a place called Sychnant?" said I to the cook in Welsh. "In truth, sir, I do;" said the cook. "Did you ever hear of a gwr boneddig called Owen Glendower?"
After paying my bill I went into the yard to my friend the old ostler, to make inquiries with respect to the road. "What kind of road," said I, "is it to the Devil's Bridge?" "There are two roads, sir, to the Pont y Gwr Drwg; which do you mean to take?" "Why do you call the Devil's Bridge the Pont y Gwr Drwg, or the bridge of the evil man?"
Jones told her that his companion, the gwr boneddig, meaning myself, had come in order to see the birth-place of Huw Morris, and that I was well acquainted with his works, having gotten them by heart in Lloegr, when a boy.
His features were rude, but full of wild, strange expression; below the picture was the following couplet: "Llun Gwr yw llawn gwir Awen; Y Byd a lanwodd o'i Ben." "Did you ever hear of Twm o'r Nant?" said the old dame. "I never heard of him by word of mouth," said I; "but I know all about him I have read his life in Welsh, written by himself, and a curious life it is.
It was a happy comparison of the Gwr Boneddig, and with respect to Rhaiadr it is a good old word, though not a common one; some of the Saxons who have read the old writings, though they cannot speak the language as fast as we, understand many words and things which we do not."
"You would, sir, would you?" said the man in grey, lifting his head on high, and curling his upper lip. "I would, indeed," said I, "my greatest desire at present is to see an Anglesey poet, but where am I to find one?" "Where is he to find one?" said he of the tattered hat; "where's the gwr boneddig to find a prydydd? No occasion to go far, he, he, he." "Well" said I, "but where is he?"
Amongst the words quoted in the chapter alluded to I wish particularly to direct the reader's attention to gwr, a man, and gwres, heat; to which may be added gwreichionen, a spark.
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