John Jones and I then proceeded to the house at Pont y Meibion,
where we saw two men, one turning a grind-stone, and the other
holding an adze to it. We asked if we were at the house of Huw
Morris, and whether they could tell us anything about him; they
made us no answer but proceeded with their occupation; John Jones
then said that the Gwr Boneddig was very fond of the verses of Huw
Morris, and had come a great way to see the place where he was
born. The wheel now ceased turning, and the man with the adze
turned his face full upon me - he was a stern-looking, dark man,
with black hair, of about forty; after a moment or two he said that
if I chose to walk into the house I should be welcome. He then
conducted us into the house, a common-looking stone tenement, and
bade us be seated. I asked him if he was a descendant of Huw
Morus; he said he was; I asked him his name, which he said was Huw
- . "Have you any of the manuscripts of Huw Morus?" said I.

"None," said he, "but I have one of the printed copies of his
works."

He then went to a drawer, and taking out a book, put it into my
hand, and seated himself in a blunt, careless manner. The book was
the first volume of the common Wrexham edition of Huw's works; it
was much thumbed - I commenced reading aloud a piece which I had
much admired in my boyhood. I went on for some time, my mind quite
occupied with my reading; at last lifting my eyes I saw the man
standing bolt upright before me, like a soldier of the days of my
childhood, during the time that the adjutant read prayers; his hat
was no longer upon his head, but on the ground, and his eyes were
reverently inclined to the book. After all what a beautiful thing
it is, not to be, but to have been a genius. Closing the book, I