belonged to any gentleman's house. He told me that it did not, but
to a public-house, called Tafarn Tywarch, which stood near the end,
a little way off the road. "Why is it called Tafarn Tywarch?"
said I, struck by the name which signifies "the tavern of turf."

"It was called so, sir," said John, "because it was originally
merely a turf hovel, though at present it consists of good brick
and mortar."

"Can we breakfast there," said I, "for I feel both hungry and
thirsty?"

"Oh yes, sir," said John, "I have heard there is good cheese and
cwrw there."

We turned off to the "tafarn," which was a decent public-house of
rather an antiquated appearance. We entered a sanded kitchen, and
sat down by a large oaken table. "Please to bring us some bread,
cheese and ale," said I in Welsh to an elderly woman, who was
moving about.

"Sar?" said she.

"Bring us some bread, cheese and ale," I repeated in Welsh.

"I do not understand you, sar," said she in English.

"Are you Welsh?" said I in English.

"Yes, I am Welsh!"