Wild Wales

"We did not give it to him," said the man-"he bore that name when he came into our hands; a farmer gave him to us when he was very young, and told us his name was Perro."

"And how came the farmer to call him Perro?" said I.

"I don't know," said the man-"why do you ask?"

"Perro," said I, "is a Spanish word, and signifies a dog in general. I am rather surprised that a dog in the mountains of Wales should be called by the Spanish word for dog." I fell into a fit of musing. "How Spanish words are diffused! Wherever you go you will find some Spanish word or other in use. I have heard Spanish words used by Russian mujiks, and Turkish fig-gatherers-I have this day heard a Spanish word in the mountains of Wales, and I have no doubt that were I to go to Iceland I should find Spanish words used there. How can I doubt it? when I reflect that more than six hundred years ago, one of the words to denote a bad woman was Spanish. In the oldest of Icelandic domestic sagas, Skarphedin, the son of Nial the seer, called Hallgerdr, widow of Gunnar, a puta-and that word so maddened Hallgerdr, that she never rested till she had brought about his destruction. Now, why this preference everywhere for Spanish words, over those of every other language? I never heard French words or German words used by Russian mujiks and Turkish fig-gatherers. I question whether I should find any in Iceland forming part of the vernacular. I certainly never found a French or even a German word in an old Icelandic saga. Why this partiality everywhere for Spanish words? the question is puzzling; at any rate it puts me out-"

"Yes, it puts me out!" I exclaimed aloud, striking my fist on the table with a vehemence which caused the good folks to start half up from their seats-before they could say anything, however, a vehicle drove up to the door, and a man, getting out, came into the room. He had a glazed hat on his head, and was dressed something like the guard of a mail. He touched his hat to me, and called for a gla.s.s of whiskey. I gave him the sele of the evening, and entered into conversation with him in English. In the course of discourse I learned that he was the postman, and was going his rounds in his cart-he was more than respectful to me, he was fawning and sycophantic. The whiskey was brought, and he stood with the gla.s.s in his hand. Suddenly he began speaking Welsh to the people; before, however, he had uttered two sentences, the woman lifted her hands with an alarmed air, crying "Hus.h.!.+ he understands." The fellow was turning me to ridicule. I flung my head back, closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and laughed aloud. The fellow stood aghast; his hand trembled, and he spilt the greater part of the whiskey upon the ground. At the end of about half-a-minute I got up, asked what I had to pay, and on being told two pence, I put down the money. Then going up to the man, I put my right fore-finger very near to his nose, and said, "Dwy o iaith dwy o wyneb; two languages, two faces, friend!" Then after leering at him for a moment, I wished the people of the house good evening, and departed.

Walking rapidly on towards the east, I soon drew near the termination of the valley. The valley terminates in a deep gorge, or pa.s.s, between Mount Eilio-which, by the bye, is part of the chine of Snowdon-and Pen Drws Coed. The latter, that couchant elephant with its head turned to the north-east, seems as if it wished to bar the pa.s.s with its trunk; by its trunk I mean a kind of jaggy ridge which descends down to the road.

I entered the gorge, pa.s.sing near a little waterfall which with much noise runs down the precipitous side of Mount Eilio-presently I came to a little mill by the side

"And who owns the land?" said I.

"Sir Richard," said she. "I Sir Richard yw yn perthyn y tir. Mr.

Williams, however, possesses some part of Mount Eilio."

"And who is Mr. Williams?" said I.

"Who is Mr. Williams?" said the miller's wife. "Ho, ho! what a stranger you must be to ask me who is Mr. Williams."

I smiled and pa.s.sed on. The mill was below the level of the road, and its wheel was turned by the water of a little conduit supplied by the brook at some distance above the mill. I had observed similar conduits employed for similar purposes in Cornwall. A little below the mill was a weir, and a little below the weir the river ran frothing past the extreme end of the elephant's snout. Following the course of the river, I at last emerged with it from the pa.s.s into a valley surrounded by enormous mountains. Extending along it from west to east, and occupying its entire southern part, lay an oblong piece of water, into which the streamlet of the pa.s.s discharged itself. This was one of the many beautiful lakes, which a few days before I had seen from the Wyddfa. As for the Wyddfa, I now beheld it high above me in the north-east, looking very grand indeed, s.h.i.+ning like a silver helmet whilst catching the glories of the setting sun.

I proceeded slowly along the road, the lake below me on my right hand, whilst the shelvy side of Snowdon rose above me on the left. The evening was calm and still, and no noise came upon my ear save the sound of a cascade falling into the lake from a black mountain, which frowned above it on the south, and cast a gloomy shadow far over it.

This cataract was in the neighbourhood of a singular-looking rock, projecting above the lake from the mountain's side. I wandered a considerable way without meeting or seeing a single human being. At last, when I had nearly gained the eastern end of the valley, I saw two men seated on the side of the hill, on the verge of the road, in the vicinity of a house which stood a little way up the hill. The lake here was much wider than I had hitherto seen it, for the huge mountain on the south had terminated, and the lake expanded considerably in that quarter, having instead of the black mountain a beautiful hill beyond it.

I quickened my steps, and soon came up to the two individuals. One was an elderly man, dressed in a smock frock, and with a hairy cap on his head. The other was much younger, wore a hat, and was dressed in a coa.r.s.e suit of blue, nearly new, and doubtless his Sunday's best. He was smoking a pipe. I greeted them in English, and sat down near them. They responded in the same language, the younger man with considerable civility and briskness, the other in a tone of voice denoting some reserve.

"May I ask the name of this lake?" said I, addressing myself to the young man, who sat between me and the elderly one.

"Its name is Llyn Cwellyn, sir," said he, taking the pipe out of his mouth. "And a fine lake it is."

"Plenty of fish in it?" I demanded.

"Plenty, sir; plenty of trout and pike and char."

"Is it deep?" said I.

"Near the sh.o.r.e it is shallow, sir, but in the middle and near the other side it is deep, so deep that no one knows how deep it is."

"What is the name," said I, "of the great black mountain there on the other side?"

"It is called Mynydd Mawr, or the Great Mountain. Yonder rock, which bulks out from it, down the lake yonder, and which you pa.s.sed as you came along, is called Castell Cidwm, which means Wolf's rock or castle."

"Did a wolf ever live there?" I demanded.

"Perhaps so," said the man, "for I have heard say that there were wolves of old in Wales."

"And what is the name of the beautiful hill yonder, before us across the water?"

"That, sir, is called Cairn Drws y Coed," said the man.

"The stone heap of the gate of the wood," said I.

"Are you Welsh, sir?" said the man.

"No," said I, "but I know something of the language of Wales. I suppose you live in that house?"

"Not exactly, sir; my father-in-law here lives in that house, and my wife with him. I am a miner, and spend six days in the week at my mine, but every Sunday I come here, and pa.s.s the day with my wife and him."

"And what profession does he follow?" said I; "is he a fisherman?"

"Fisherman!" said the elderly man contemptuously, "not I. I am the Snowdon Ranger."

"And what is that?" said I.

The elderly man tossed his head proudly, and made no reply.

"A ranger means a guide, sir," said the younger man-"my father-in-law is generally termed the Snowdon Ranger because he is a tip-top guide, and he has named the house after him the Snowdon Ranger. He entertains gentlemen in it who put themselves under his guidance in order to ascend Snowdon and to see the country."

"There is some difference in your professions," said I; "he deals in heights, you in depths; both, however, are break-necky trades."

"I run more risk from gunpowder than anything else," said the younger man. "I am a slate-miner, and am continually blasting. I have, however, had my falls. Are you going far to-night, sir?"

"I am going to Bethgelert," said I.

"A good six miles, sir, from here. Do you come from Caernarvon?"

"Farther than that," said I. "I come from Bangor."

"To-day, sir, and walking?"

"To-day, and walking."

"You must be rather tired, sir; you came along the valley very slowly."

"I am not in the slightest degree tired," said I; "when I start from here, I shall put on my best pace, and soon get to Bethgelert."

"Anybody can get along over level ground," said the old man, laconically.

"Not with equal swiftness," said I. "I do a.s.sure you, friend, to be able to move at a good swinging pace over level ground is something not to be sneezed at. Not," said I, lifting up my voice, "that I would for a moment compare walking on the level ground to mountain ranging, pacing along the road to springing up crags like a mountain goat, or a.s.sert that even Powell himself, the first of all road walkers, was ent.i.tled to so bright a wreath of fame as the Snowdon Ranger."

"Won't you walk in, sir?" said the elderly man.

"No, I thank you," said I; "I prefer sitting out here, gazing on the lake and the n.o.ble mountains."

"I wish you would, sir," said the elderly man, "and take a gla.s.s of something; I will charge you nothing."