THE MILLS OF TREFRIEW. 47 



me in, can now eradicate. This, if I mistake 

 not, is the identical stone on which we rested, and 

 this, the very mountain rivulet by which the poet of 

 old might have refreshed himself, when he said 



" The wearie traveller, wandering this way, 



Herein doth often quench his thirsty heat ! 

 And then by it his wearie limbes display, 



Whiles creeping slomber makes him to forget 



His former payne, and wipes away his toilsome sweat." 



That " wearie traveller" is your humble servant, 

 I confess ; so, to oblige me, and with the aid of 

 this pure stream 



" To cool the malt's intemperate glow," 



let us take a cup of welcome, and drink pros- 

 perity to our coming occupation. 



Theoph. Agreed. Success to us both ; " and 

 may the east wind never blow when we go a- 

 fishing," as Walton says. But come, no more of 

 you propitiatory libations, or I shall never get 

 you to our " roosting" place. 



Herb. Stay a bit, and let me admire once 

 again this specimen of lovely Wales, where every 

 footstep treads on some fresh burst of beauty, 

 ever varying, always new ! This the mills of 

 Trefriew clambering over each other, like thirsty 

 hounds to catch the purest gush of water is as 

 picturesque a " bit" as can well be imagined. 

 How it lies, lulled in the lap of these wood- 

 crowned hills, from whose feet the Conway's 



