We went to the stones, which were indeed common rocks, and which when I reached them presented quite a different appearance from that which they presented to my eye when I viewed them from afar.
“Are there many altars of the Druids in Llydaw?” said the man of the hat.
“Plenty,” said I, “but those altars are older than the time of the Welsh colonists, and were erected by the old Gauls.”
“Well,” said the man of the cap, “I am glad I have seen the man of Llydaw.”
“Whom do you call a man of Llydaw?” said I.
“Whom but yourself?” said he of the hat.
“I am not a man of Llydaw,” said I in English, “but Norfolk, where the people eat the best dumplings in the world, and speak the purest English. Now a thousand thanks for your civility. I would have some more chat with you, but night is coming on, and I am bound to Holyhead.”
Then leaving the men staring after me, I bent my steps towards Holyhead.
I passed by a place called Llan something, standing lonely on its hill. The country round looked sad and desolate. It is true night had come on when I saw it.
On I hurried. The voices of children sounded sweetly at a distance across the wild champaign on my left.