“O no, sir; I did never see any part of them, but one very old man who is buried here did tell me shortly before he died that he had seen one very old man who had seen of dem one little tip.”
“Who was the old man who said that to you?” said I.
“I will show you his monument, sir,” then taking me into a dusky pew he pointed to a small rude tablet against the church wall and said:—“That is his monument, sir.”
The tablet bore the following inscription, and below it a rude englyn on death not worth transcribing:—
Coffadwriaeth am
Thomas Jones
Diweddar o’r Draws Llwyn yn y Plwyf hwn:
Bu farw Chwefror 6 fed 1830
Yn 92 oed.To the Memory of
Thomas Jones
Of Traws Llwyn (across the Grove) in this
parish who died February the sixth, 1830.
Aged 92.
After copying the inscription I presented the old man with a trifle and went my way.
CHAPTER XCV
Lampeter—The Monk Austin—The Three Publicans—The Tombstone—Sudden Change—Trampers—A Catholic—The Bridge of Twrch.
The country between Llan Ddewi and Lampeter presented nothing remarkable, and I met on the road nothing worthy of being recorded. On arriving at Lampeter I took a slight refreshment at the inn, and then went to see the college which stands a little to the north of the town. It was founded by Bishop Burgess in the year 1820, for the education of youths intended for the ministry of the Church of England. It is a neat quadrate edifice with a courtyard in which stands a large stone basin. From the courtyard you enter a spacious dining-hall, over the door of which hangs a well-executed portrait of the good bishop. From the hall you ascend by a handsome staircase to the library, a large and lightsome room, well stored with books in various languages. The grand curiosity is a manuscript Codex containing a Latin synopsis of Scripture which once belonged to the monks of Bangor Is Coed. It bears marks of blood with which it was sprinkled when the monks were massacred by the heathen Saxons, at the instigation of Austin the Pope’s missionary in Britain. The number of students seldom exceeds forty.
It might be about half-past two in the afternoon when I left Lampeter. I passed over a bridge, taking the road to Llandovery which, however, I had no intention of attempting to reach that night, as it was considerably upwards of twenty miles distant. The road lay, seemingly, due east. After walking very briskly for about an hour I came to a very small hamlet consisting of not more than six or seven houses; of these three seemed to be public-houses, as they bore large flaming signs. Seeing three rather shabby-looking fellows standing chatting with their hands in their pockets, I stopped and inquired in English the name of the place.