IN A WELSH VALLEY 191 



it might be. This, running, he vainly tried to seize 

 and fell flat. And as he fell to his horrified amaze 

 he heard mocking laughter from the skies. Wonder 

 was not dead then, though even at Penydwddwr 

 they must now be used to men who travel with 

 the clouds. 



The last visit I paid to Penydwddwr was shortly 

 before the war, and it was at an unaccustomed time 

 of year. The fact was that I had heard of salmon 

 there if one was on the spot during August floods, 

 and it struck me that a salmon or two a day from 

 those little pools would be very pleasant amusement. 

 So it would be if it ever happened, but so far as I 

 could judge it does not happen. 



Caradoc, who exhibited symptoms of jealousy 

 when he heard I was going, said, " I told you so," as 

 soon as I had returned. For I had to confess that 

 the expedition, from the point of view which regards 

 heaps of slain fishes as the summurn honum, had not 

 been a complete success. Not that I would impute 

 such a point of view to Caradoc. In the spring 

 we do not pile our fishes in heaps. We say that we 

 do not like our fishes so, that a few trout, and those 

 good ones, are what we prefer. And we get the few 

 trout all right, while as to goodness I never met 

 any that were better on a breakfast table. There 

 are, be it noted, different kinds of goodness which 

 trout may have. An ability to stretch head and 



