CHAPTER XLIII.
The Inn at Bangor--Port Dyn Norwig--Sea Serpent--Thoroughly Welsh Place--Blessing of Health.
I went to the same inn at Bangor at which I had been before.

It was Saturday night and the house was thronged with people who had arrived by train from Manchester and Liverpool, with the intention of passing the Sunday in the Welsh town.

I took tea in an immense dining or ball-room, which was, however, so crowded with guests that its walls literally sweated.

Amidst the multitude I felt quite solitary--my beloved ones had departed for Llangollen, and there was no one with whom I could exchange a thought or a word of kindness.

I addressed several individuals, and in every instance repented; from some I got no answers, from others what was worse than no answers at all--in every countenance near me suspicion, brutality, or conceit, was most legibly imprinted--I was not amongst Welsh, but the scum of manufacturing England.
Every bed in the house was engaged--the people of the house, however, provided me a bed at a place which they called the cottage, on the side of a hill in the outskirts of the town.