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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Had you not better wait," said I, "till we get to the inn at Llansanfraid?" The woman, however, begged him to eat some bread and butter where he was, and cutting a plateful, placed it before him, having first offered me some which I declined. "But you have nothing to drink with it," said I to him.
I soon reached the bottom of the hill, passed through Llansanfraid, and threading the vale of the Ceiriog at length found myself at Pont y Meibion in front of the house of Huw Morris, or rather of that which is built on the site of the dwelling of the poet.
"Is your husband a tall bulky man?" said I. "Just so," said the woman. "The largest of the two men we saw the other night at the public- house at Llansanfraid," said I to John Jones. "I don't know him," said Jones, "though I have heard of him, but I have no doubt that was he."
"If you please," said the woman, "I will go for a pint of ale to the public-house at the Pandy, there is better ale there than at the inn at Llansanfraid. When my husband goes to Llansanfraid he goes less for the ale than for the conversation, because there is little English spoken at the Pandy however good the ale."
We passed over the top of the mountain, and descending the other side reached Llansanfraid, and stopped at the public-house where we had been before, and called for two glasses of ale.
Descending the monticle we walked along the road together. After a little time I asked my companion of what occupation he was and where he lived. "I am a small farmer, sir," said he, "and live at Llansanfraid Glyn Dyfrdwy across the river." "How comes it," said I, "that you do not know English?"
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