“Have you any English?” said I, addressing the boy in Welsh.
“Dim gair,” said the boy; “not a word; there is no Saesneg near here.”
“What is the name of this place?”
“The name of our house is Helyg.”
“And what is the name of that hill?” said I, pointing to the hill of the precipice.
“Allt y Gôg—the high place of the cuckoo.”
“Have you a father and mother?”
“We have.”
“Are they in the house?”
“They are gone to Capel Curig.”