Myself.—Bala is a nice place.
Lad.—It is, sir; but not so fine as old Bala.
Myself.—I never heard of such a place. Where is it?
Lad.—Under the lake, sir.
Myself.—What do you mean?
Lad.—It stood in the old time where the lake now is, and a fine city it was, full of fine houses, towers, and castles, but with neither church nor chapel, for the people neither knew God nor cared for Him, and thought of nothing but singing and dancing and other wicked things. So God was angry with them, and one night, when they were all busy at singing and dancing and the like, God gave the word, and the city sank down into Unknown, and the lake boiled up where it once stood.
Myself.—That was a long time ago.
Lad.—In truth, sir, it was.
Myself.—Before the days of King Cadwaladr.
Lad.—I daresay it was, sir.