A respectable-looking woman was standing in the yard.

I went up to her and inquired the name of the place.
"These houses, sir," said she, "are called Tai Hirion Mignaint.

Look over that door and you will see T.H.which letters stand for Tai Hirion.
Mignaint is the name of the place where they stand." I looked, and upon a stone which formed the lintel of the middlemost door I read "T.

H 1630." The words Tai Hirion it will be as well to say signify the long houses.
I looked long and steadfastly at the inscription, my mind full of thoughts of the past.
"Many a year has rolled by since these houses were built," said I, as I sat down on a stepping-stone.
"Many indeed, sir," said the woman, "and many a strange thing has happened." "Did you ever hear of one Oliver Cromwell ?" said I.
"Oh, yes, sir, and of King Charles too.

The men of both have been in this yard and have baited their horses; aye, and have mounted their horses from the stone on which you sit." "I suppose they were hardly here together ?" said I.
"No, no, sir," said the woman, "they were bloody enemies, and could never set their horses together." "Are these long houses," said I, "inhabited by different families ?" "Only by one, sir, they make now one farm-house." "Are you the mistress of it," said I.
"I am, sir, and my husband is the master.