Wild Wales — Chapter 10: The Berwyn

The Berwyn—Mountain Cottage—The Barber’s Pole.

On the following morning I strolled up the Berwyn on the south-west of the town, by a broad winding path, which was at first very steep, but by degrees became less so.

When I had accomplished about three parts of the ascent I came to a place where the road, or path, divided into two.

I

took the one to the left, which seemingly led to the top of the mountain, and presently came to a cottage from which a dog rushed barking towards me; an old woman, however, coming to the door, called him back.

I said a few words to her in Welsh, whereupon in broken English she asked me to enter the cottage and take a glass of milk.

I went in and sat down on a chair which a sickly-looking young woman handed to me.

I asked her in English who she was, but she made no answer, whereupon the old woman told me that she was her daughter and had no English.

I then asked her in Welsh what was the matter with her; she replied that she had the cryd or ague.

The old woman now brought me a glass of milk, and said in the Welsh language that she hoped that I should like it.

What further conversation we had was in the Cambrian tongue.

I asked the name of the dog, who was now fondling upon me, and was told that his name was Pharaoh.

I inquired if they had any books, and was shown two, one a common Bible printed by the Bible Society, and the other a volume in which the Book of Prayer of the Church of England was bound up with the Bible, both printed at Oxford, about the middle of the last century.

I

found that both mother and daughter were Calvinistic Methodists.

After a little further discourse I got up and gave the old woman twopence for the milk; she accepted it, but with great reluctance.

I inquired whether by following the road I could get to the Pen y bryn or the top of the hill.

They shook their heads and the young woman said that I could not, as the road presently took a turn and went down.

I asked her how I could get to the top of the hill.

“Which part of the top?

” said she.

“I’r gor-uchaf,” I replied.

“That must be where the barber’s pole stands,” said she.

“Why does the barber’s pole stand there?

” said I. “A barber was hanged there a long time ago,” said she, “and the pole was placed to show the spot.

” “Why was he hanged?

” said I. “For murdering his wife,” said she.

I asked her some questions about the murder, but the only information she could give me was, that it was a very bad murder and occurred a long time ago.

I had observed the pole from our garden at Llangollen, but had concluded that it was a common flagstaff.

I inquired the way to it.

It was not visible from the cottage, but they gave me directions how to reach it.

I bade them farewell, and in about a quarter of an hour reached the pole on the top of the hill.

I imagined that I should have a glorious view of the vale of Llangollen from the spot where it stood; the view, however, did not answer my expectations.

I returned to Llangollen by nearly the same way by which I had come.

The remainder of the day I spent entirely with my family, whom at their particular request I took in the evening to see Plas Newydd, once the villa of the two ladies of Llangollen.

It lies on the farther side of the bridge, at a little distance from the back part of the church.

There is a thoroughfare through the grounds, which are not extensive.

Plas Newydd, or the New Place, is a small, gloomy mansion, with a curious dairy on the right-hand side, as you go up to it, and a remarkable stone pump.

An old man whom we met in the grounds, and with whom I entered into conversation, said that he remembered the building of the house, and that the place where it now stands was called before its erection Pen y maes, or the head of the field.

CHAPTER XI