“Were any people ever taken up and punished for those nocturnal breakings?” said I.
“No, sir; and I have heard say that nobody’s being taken up was a proof that the rich approved of the work and had a hand in it.”
Night had come on by the time we reached the foot of the huge hills we had crossed in the morning. We toiled up the ascent, and after crossing the level ground on the top, plunged down the bwlch between walking and running, occasionally stumbling, for we were nearly in complete darkness, and the bwlch was steep and stony. We more than once passed people who gave us the n’s da, the hissing night salutation of the Welsh. At length I saw the Abbey looming amidst the darkness, and John Jones said that, we were just above the fountain. We descended, and putting my head down I drank greedily of the dwr santaidd, my guide following my example. We then proceeded on our way, and in about half-an-hour reached Llangollen. I took John Jones home with me. We had a cheerful cup of tea. Henrietta played on the guitar, and sang a Spanish song, to the great delight of John Jones, who at about ten o’clock departed contented and happy to his own dwelling.
John Jones and his Bundle—A Good Lady—The Irishman’s Dingle—Ab Gwilym and the Mist—The Kitchen—The Two Individuals—The Horse-Dealer—I can manage him—The Mist Again.
The following day was gloomy. In the evening John Jones made his appearance with a bundle under his arm, and an umbrella in his hand.
“Sir,” said he, “I am going across the mountain with it piece of weaving work, for the man on the other side, who employs me. Perhaps you would like to go with me, as you are fond of walking.”
“I suppose,” said I, “you wish to have my company for fear of meeting Gwyddelians on the hill.”
“Well, sir,” said he, “if I do meet them I would sooner be with company than without. But I dare venture by myself, trusting in the Man on High, and perhaps I do wrong to ask you to go, as you must be tired with your walk of yesterday.”
“Hardly more than yourself,” said I. “Come; I shall be glad to go. What I said about the Gwyddelians was only in jest.”
“It does not rain at present, sir, but I think it will. You had better take an umbrella.”
I did so, and away we went. We passed over the bridge, and turning to the right went by the back of the town through a field. As we passed by the Plas Newydd John Jones said: