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"You talk of Plynlimmon Mawr, or the great Plynlymmon," said I; "where are the small ones?" "Yonder they are," said the guide, pointing to two hills towards the north; "one is Plynlimmon Canol, and the other Plynlimmon Bach the middle and the small Plynlimmon." "Pumlummon," said I, "means five summits. You have pointed out only three; now, where are the other two?"
"Very good," said I, "and perfectly satisfactory. Now let us ascend the Big Pumlummon." In about a quarter of an hour we reached the summit of the hill, where stood a large carn or heap of stones. I got upon the top and looked around me. A mountainous wilderness extended on every side, a waste of russet coloured hills, with here and there a black, craggy summit.
"It does not look much of a hill," said I. "We are on very high ground, sir, or it would look much higher. I question, upon the whole, whether there is a higher hill in the world. God bless Pumlummon Mawr!" said he, looking with reverence towards the hill. "I am sure I have a right to say so, for many is the good crown I have got by showing gentlefolks like yourself to the top of him."
"Those two hills which we have just passed make up the five. However, I will tell your worship that there is a sixth summit. Don't you see that small hill connected with the big Pumlummon, on the right?" "I see it very clearly," said I. "Well, your worship, that's called Bryn y Llo the Hill of the Calf, or the Calf Plynlimmon, which makes the sixth summit."
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