An aged woman sat on a stool by the door.
"A fine evening," said I in English.
"Dim Saesneg;" said the aged woman.
"Oh, the blessing of being able to speak Welsh," said I; and then repeated in that language what I had said to her in the other tongue.
"I daresay," said the aged woman, "to those who can see." "Can you not see ?" "Very little.

I am almost blind." "Can you not see me ?" "I can see something tall and dark before me; that is all." "Can you tell me the name of the bridge ?" "Pont y Glyn bin--the bridge of the glen of trouble." "And what is the name of this place ?" "Pen y bont--the head of the bridge." "What is your own name ?" "Catherine Hughes." "How old are you ?" "Fifteen after three twenties." "I have a mother three after four twenties; that is eight years older than yourself." "Can she see ?" "Better than I--she can read the smallest letters." "May she long be a comfort to you!" "Thank you--are you the mistress of the house ?" "I am the grandmother." "Are the people in the house ?" "They are not--they are at the chapel." "And they left you alone ?" "They left me with my God." "Is the chapel far from here ?" "About a mile." "On the road to Cerrig y Drudion ?" "On the road to Cerrig y Drudion." I bade her farewell, and pushed on--the road was good, with high rocky banks on each side.

After walking about the distance indicated by the old lady, I reached a building, which stood on the right-hand side of the road, and which I had no doubt was the chapel, from a half-groaning, half-singing noise which proceeded from it.

The door being open, I entered, and stood just within it, bare-headed.

A rather singular scene presented itself.