Presently we came to a bridge over a small river.
“Is this river the Cothi?” said I.
“No,” said he, “this is the Twrch; the bridge is called Pont y Twrch.”
“The bridge of Twrch or the hog,” said I to myself; “there is a bridge of the same name in the Scottish Highlands, not far from the pass of the Trossachs. I wonder whether it has its name from the same cause as this, namely, from passing over a river called the Twrch or Torck, which word in Gaelic signifies boar or hog even as it does in Welsh.” It had now become nearly dark. After proceeding some way farther I asked the groom if we were far from the inn of the “Pump Saint.”
“Close by,” said he, and presently pointing to a large building on the right-hand side he said: “This is the inn of the ‘Pump Saint,’ sir. Nos Da’chi!”
CHAPTER XCVI
“Pump Saint”—Pleasant Residence—The Watery Coom—Philological Fact—Evening Service—Meditation.
I entered the inn of the “Pump Saint.” It was a comfortable old-fashioned place, with a very large kitchen and a rather small parlour. The people were kind and attentive, and soon set before me in the parlour a homely but savoury supper, and a foaming tankard of ale. After supper I went into the kitchen, and sitting down with the good folks in an immense chimney-corner, listened to them talking in their Carmarthenshire dialect till it was time to go to rest, when I was conducted to a large chamber where I found an excellent and clean bed awaiting me, in which I enjoyed a refreshing sleep, occasionally visited by dreams in which some of the scenes of the preceding day again appeared before me, but in an indistinct and misty manner.
Awaking in the very depth of the night I thought I heard the murmuring of a river; I listened and soon found that I had not been deceived. “I wonder whether that river is the Cothi,” said I, “the stream of the immortal Lewis. I will suppose that it is”—and rendered quite happy by the idea, I soon fell asleep again.
I arose about eight and went out to look about me. The village consists of little more than half-a-dozen houses. The name “Pump Saint” signifies “Five Saints.” Why the place is called so I know not. Perhaps the name originally belonged to some chapel which stood either where the village now stands or in the neighbourhood. The inn is a good specimen of an ancient Welsh hostelry. Its gable is to the road and its front to a little space on one side of the way. At a little distance up the road is a blacksmith’s shop. The country around is interesting: on the north-west is a fine wooded hill—to the south a valley through which flows the Cothi, a fair river, the one whose murmur had come so pleasingly upon my ear in the depth of night.