The brook after disappearing for a time shows itself again far down in the valley, and is doubtless one of the tributaries of the Tan y Bwlch river, perhaps the very same brook the name of which I could not learn the preceding day in the vale.
As I was gazing on the prospect an old man driving a peat cart came from the direction in which I was going.

I asked him the name of the ravine and he told me it was Ceunant Coomb or hollow-dingle coomb.

I asked the name of the brook, and he told me that it was called the brook of the hollow-dingle coomb, adding that it ran under Pont Newydd, though where that was I knew not.

Whilst he was talking with me he stood uncovered.
Yes, the old peat driver stood with his hat in his hand whilst answering the questions of the poor, dusty foot-traveller.

What a fine thing to be an Englishman in Wales! In about an hour I came to a wild moor; the moor extended for miles and miles.