[19] That is the pronunciation which I have learnt at Ỻanberis, but there is another, which I have also heard, namely Derwenyđ. [↑]
[20] Ystrad is the Welsh corresponding to Scotch strath, and it is nearly related to the English word strand. It means the flat land near a river. [↑]
[21] Betws (or Bettws) Garmon seems to mean Germanus’s Bede-hūs or House of Prayer, but Garmon can hardly have come down in Welsh from the time of the famous saint in the fifth century, as it would then have probably yielded Gerfon and not Garmon: it looks as if it had come through the Goidelic of this country. [↑]
[22] One of the rare merits of our Welsh bards is their habit of assuming permanent noms de plume, by means of which they prevent a number of excellent native names from falling into utter oblivion in the general chaos of Anglo-Hebrew ones, such as Jones, Davies, and Williams, which cover the Principality. Welsh place-names have similarly been threatened by Hebrew names of chapels, such as Bethesda, Rehoboth, and Jerusalem, but in this direction the Jewish mania has only here and there effected permanent mischief. [↑]
[23] The Brython was a valuable Welsh periodical published by Mr. Robert Isaac Jones, at Tremadoc, in the years 1858–1863, and edited by the Rev. Chancellor Silvan Evans, who was then the curate of Ỻangïan in Ỻeyn: in fact he was curate for fourteen years! His excellent work in editing the Brython earned for him his diocesan’s displeasure, but it is easier to imagine than to describe how hard it was for him to resign the honorarium of £24 derived from the Brython when his stipend as a clergyman was only £92, at the same time that he had dependent on him a wife and six children. However much some people affect to laugh at the revival of the national spirit in Wales, we have, I think, got so far as to make it, for some time to come, impossible for a Welsh clergyman to be snubbed on account of his literary tastes or his delight in the archæology of his country. [↑]
[24] This parish is called after a saint named Tegái or Tygái, like Tyfaelog and Tysilio, and though the accent rests on the final syllable nothing could prevent the grammarian Huw Tegai and his friends from making it into Tégai in Huw’s name. [↑]
[25] For can they now usually put Ann, and Mr. Hughes remembers hearing it so many years ago. [↑]
[26] I remember seeing a similar mound at Ỻanfyrnach, in Pembrokeshire; and the last use made of the hollow on the top of this also is supposed to have been for cock-fights. [↑]
[27] My attention has also been called to freit, frete, freet, fret, ‘news, inquiry, augury,’ corresponding to Anglo-Saxon freht, ‘divination.’ But the disparity of meaning seems to stand in the way of our ffrit being referred to this origin. [↑]