Struck with the neighbouring scenery, I stopped to observe it.

A mighty mountain rises in the north almost abreast of Festiniog; another towards the east divided into two of unequal size.

Seeing a woman of an interesting countenance seated at the door of a cottage I pointed to the hill towards the north, and speaking the Welsh language, inquired its name.
"That hill, sir," said she, "is called Moel Wyn." Now Moel Wyn signifies the white, bare hill.
"And how do you call those two hills towards the east ?" "We call one, sir, Mynydd Mawr, the other Mynydd Bach." Now Mynydd Mawr signifies the great mountain and Mynydd Bach the little one.
"Do any people live in those hills ?" "The men who work the quarries, sir, live in those hills.

They and their wives and their children.

No other people." "Have you any English ?" "I have not, sir.