Passed through Pennow or Penhow, a small village. The scenery in the neighbourhood of this place is highly interesting. To the north-west at some distance is Mynydd Turvey, a sharp pointed blue mountain. To the south-east, on the right, much nearer, are two beautiful green hills, the lowest prettily wooded, and having its top a fair white mansion called Penhow Castle, which belongs to a family of the name of Cave. Thence to Llanvaches, a pretty little village. When I was about the middle of this place I heard an odd sound, something like a note of recognition, which attracted my attention to an object very near to me, from which it seemed to proceed, and which was coming from the direction in which I was going. It was the figure seemingly of a female, wrapped in a coarse blue cloak, the feet bare and the legs bare also nearly up to the knee, both terribly splashed with the slush of the road. The head was surmounted by a kind of hood, which just permitted me to see coarse red hair, a broad face, grey eyes, a snubbed nose, blubber lips and great white teeth—the eyes were staring intently at me. I stopped and stared too, and at last thought I recognised the features of the uncouth girl I had seen on the green near Chester with the Irish tinker Tourlough and his wife.
“Dear me!” said I, “did I not see you near Chester last summer?”
“To be sure ye did; and ye were going to pass me without a word of notice or kindness had I not given ye a bit of a hail.”
“Well,” said I, “I beg your pardon. How is it all wid ye?”
“Quite well. How is it wid yere hanner?’
“Tolerably. Where do you come from?”
“From Chepstow, yere hanner.”
“And where are you going to?”
“To Newport, yere hanner.”
“And I come from Newport, and am going to Chepstow. Where’s Tourlough and his wife?”