I drank to his and that of his companion; the latter, after nodding to us both, emptied his at a draught, and then with a kind of half-fatuous leer, exclaimed, "Da iawn, very good." The ale, though not very good, was cool and neither sour nor bitter; we then sat for a moment or two in silence, my companions on one side of the table, and I on the other.

After a little time the man in grey looking at me said: "Travelling I suppose in Anglesey for pleasure ?" "To a certain extent," said I; "but my chief object in visiting Anglesey was to view the birth-place of Gronwy Owen; I saw it yesterday, and am now going to Holyhead chiefly with a view to see the country." "And how came you, an Englishman, to know anything of Gronwy Owen ?" "I studied Welsh literature when young," said I, "and was much struck with the verses of Gronwy: he was one of the great bards of Wales, and certainly the most illustrious genius that Anglesey ever produced." "A great genius, I admit," said the man in grey, "but pardon me, not exactly the greatest Ynis Fon has produced.

The race of the bards is not quite extinct in the island, sir.

I could name one or two--however, I leave others to do so--but I assure you the race of bards is not quite extinct here." "I am delighted to hear you say so," said I, "and make no doubt that you speak correctly, for the Red Bard has said that Mona is never to be without a poet--but where am I to find one?
just before I saw you I was wishing to see a poet; I would willingly give a quart of ale to see a genuine Anglesey poet." "You would, sir, would you ?" said the man in grey, lifting his head on high, and curling his upper lip.
"I would, indeed," said I, "my greatest desire at present is to see an Anglesey poet, but where am I to find one ?" "Where is he to find one ?" said he of the tattered hat; "where's the gwr boneddig to find a prydydd?
No occasion to go far, he, he, he." "Well" said I, "but where is he ?" "Where is he?
why, there," said he, pointing to the man in grey--"the greatest prydydd in tir Fon or the whole world." "Tut, tut, hold your tongue," said the man in grey.
"Hold my tongue, myn Diawl, not I--I speak the truth," then filling his glass he emptied it exclaiming, "I'll not hold, my tongue.

The greatest prydydd in the whole world." "Then I have the honour to be seated with a bard of Anglesey ?" said I, addressing the man in grey.
"Tut, tut," said he of the grey suit.
"The greatest prydydd in the whole world," iterated he of the bulged shoe, with a slight hiccup, as he again filled his glass.
"Then," said I, "I am truly fortunate." "Sir," said the man in grey, "I had no intention of discovering myself, but as my friend here has betrayed my secret, I confess that I am a bard of Anglesey--my friend is an excellent individual but indiscreet, highly indiscreet, as I have frequently told him," and here he looked most benignantly reproachful at him of the tattered hat.
"The greatest prydydd," said the latter, "the greatest prydydd that--" and leaving his sentence incomplete he drank off the ale which he had poured into his glass.
"Well," said I, "I cannot sufficiently congratulate myself for having met an Anglesey bard--no doubt a graduate one.