We had again got very near the castle, when John Jones told me that if we would follow him he would show us something very remarkable; I asked him what it was.
"Llun Cawr," he replied.

"The figure of a giant." "What giant ?" said I.
But on this point he could give me no information.

I told my wife and daughter what he had said, and finding that they wished to see the figure, I bade John Jones lead us to it.

He led us down an avenue just below the eastern side of the castle; noble oaks and other trees composed it, some of them probably near a hundred feet high; John Jones observing me looking at them with admiration, said: "They would make fine chests for the dead, sir." What an observation! how calculated, amidst the most bounding joy and bliss, to remind man of his doom! A moment before I had felt quite happy, but now I felt sad and mournful.

I looked at my wife and daughter, who were gazing admiringly on the beauteous scenes around them, and remembered that in a few short years at most we should all three be laid in the cold narrow house formed of four elm or oaken boards, our only garment the flannel shroud, the cold damp earth above us, instead of the bright glorious sky.