Ah, it is a fine thing to be a grammarian." "Yes, it is a fine thing to be a grammarian," cried the rest of the company, and I observed that everybody now regarded me with a kind of respect.
A jug of ale which the hostess had brought me had been standing before me some time.

I now tasted it and found it very good.

Whilst despatching it, I asked various questions about the old Danes, the reason why the place was called the port of the Norwegian, and about its trade.

The good folks knew nothing about the old Danes, and as little as to the reason of its being called the port of the Norwegian--but they said that besides that name it bore that of Melin Heli, or the mill of the salt pool, and that slates were exported from thence, which came from quarries close by.
Having finished my ale, I bade the company adieu and quitted Port Dyn Norwig, one of the most thoroughly Welsh places I had seen, for during the whole time I was in it, I heard no words of English uttered, except the two or three spoken by myself.

In about an hour I reached Caernarvon.
The road from Bangor to Caernarvon is very good and the scenery interesting--fine hills border it on the left, or south-east, and on the right at some distance is the Menai with Anglesey beyond it.