The other person was somewhat about sixty--he was much shorter than his companion, and much worse dressed--he wore a hat that had several holes in it, a dusty rusty black coat, much too large for him; ragged yellow velveteen breeches, indifferent fustian gaiters, and shoes, cobbled here and there, one of which had rather an ugly bulge by the side near the toes.

His mouth was exceedingly wide, and his nose remarkably long; its extremity of a deep purple; upon his features was a half-simple smile or leer; in his hand was a long stick.

After we had all taken a full view of one another I said in Welsh, addressing myself to the man in grey, "Pray may I take the liberty of asking the name of this place." "I believe you are an Englishman, sir," said the man in grey, speaking English, "I will therefore take the liberty of answering your question in the English tongue.

The name of this place is Dyffryn Gaint." "Thank you," said I; "you are quite right with regard to my being an Englishman, perhaps you are one yourself ?" "Sir," said the man in grey, "I have not the honour to be so.

I am a native of the small island in which we are." "Small," said I, "but famous, particularly for producing illustrious men." "That's very true indeed, sir," said the man in grey, drawing himself up; "it is particularly famous for producing illustrious men." "There was Owen Tudor ?" said I.
"Very true," said the man in grey, "his tomb is in the church a little way from hence." "Then," said I, "there was Gronwy Owen, one of the greatest bards that ever lived.