“When I get to Pont Erwyd,” said I, “how far shall I be from South Wales?”
“From South Wales!” said he; “you are in South Wales now; you passed the Terfyn of North Wales a quarter of an hour ago.”
The rain now fell fast and there was so thick a mist that I could only see a few yards before me. We descended into a valley, at the bottom of which I heard a river roaring.
“That’s the Rheidol,” said my guide, “coming from Pumlimmon, swollen with rain.”
Without descending to the river, we turned aside up a hill, and, after passing by a few huts, came to a large house, which my guide told me was the inn of Pont Erwyd.
CHAPTER LXXXII
Consequential Landlord—Cheek—Darfel Gatherel—Dafydd Nanmor—Sheep Farms—Wholesome Advice—The Old Postman—The Plant de Bat—The Robber’s Cavern.
My guide went to a side door, and opening it without ceremony went in. I followed and found myself in a spacious and comfortable-looking kitchen: a large fire blazed in a huge grate, on one side of which was a settle; plenty of culinary utensils, both pewter and copper, hung around on the walls, and several goodly rows of hams and sides of bacon were suspended from the roof. There were several people present, some on the settle and others on chairs in the vicinity of the fire. As I advanced, a man arose from a chair and came towards me. He was about thirty-five years of age, well and strongly made, with a fresh complexion, a hawk nose, and a keen grey eye. He wore top-boots and breeches, a half jockey coat, and had a round cap made of the skin of some animal on his head.
“Servant, sir!” said he in rather a sharp tone, and surveying me with something of a supercilious air.
“Your most obedient humble servant!” said I; “I presume you are the landlord of this house.”