_Myself_. Is it a town or a village?

"A town, I believe; but it is not a large place."

_Myself_. Have you ever heard of the remarkable well before?

"Oh, yes. I've seen an account of it in an old book."

_Myself_. If I knew the way, I would go and see this wonderful fountain.

"Don't talk nonsense. Go two hundred miles to see a spring!"

_Myself_. Why not?

"Why? Because you can see plenty of fountains nearer home."

_Myself_. But this is a well.

"Yes; a well to be sure. But don't the waters of all rivers come from wells?"

_Myself_. Of course they do. But it requires a hundred wells to make up the Severn, the Wye, and the Ithon, but here is a large river from one well, one spring. I'll certainly go one of these days and see it.

Many, many years, however, came, and pa.s.sed away, before the design I then formed was carried out.

My first visit to Holywell, or Treffynnon, took place just about the close of the Crimean War. I arrived in the town late one evening in mid winter, but as the night was extremely dark, while the rain descended in torrents, I refrained from leaving my hotel, the name of which I do not at present remember. It was then the princ.i.p.al inn of the town, with a first rate bill of fare.

Being a private gentleman, and therefore debarred from joining the commercials, breakfast was prepared for me in a snug little parlour which was generally used by the landlady as her private sitting-room. Before I had taken my seat at the breakfast, the waitress came into the room, all smiles, and asked me if I had any objection to a gentleman joining me at the morning meal.

"Who is the gentleman?" I asked the waitress.

"Oh, Squire Eli, of Ffynnon Hall."

_Myself_. What kind of a person is he? Is he old or young, has he a hump on his back, and does he wear spectacles? is he a nice, good-tempered fellow, or sour as crab beer? Tell me, gentle maid, the kind of companion I am to be honoured with.

"Oh, sir, how you do talk. Squire is a nice, well-spoken gentleman; and I am sure you'll like him."

_Myself_. Show the gentleman up; but tell your mistress that she will be a loser by his introduction, because I generally eat twice as much in company as when alone.

Presently Mr. Eli made his appearance, and I expressed to him how greatly pleased I was at his honouring me with his presence.

He replied to my remarks in a very neat speech, and said he was delighted in the opportunity of making my acquaintance, having heard of me from a common friend.

Before rising from the table I said, "What a beautiful name you have selected for your seat!"

"Then do you know Welsh?"

_Myself_. I know a little; I wish I knew more. It is the grandest language under the sun.

"For expressiveness and eloquence and poetry, you are right."

_Myself_. I presume you selected the name because you have a crystal fountain by the Hall?

"Oh, dear, no. There is a fountain it is true, but its existence in no way determined me to select the name; and, between us, I don't think there is a similar designation for a house in North or South Wales."

_Myself_. Have you visited the south, Mr. Eli?

"Visited the South! Why, there is not a town or village in the six counties I've not been in. I know the country well."

"Have you ever been at Bridgend, in the county of R.?"

"At Bridgend! Of course I have; many and many a time."

_Myself_. If I'm not mistaken, I have seen you there.

"Probably you have; that is, if you ever attended its annual May fair."

_Myself_. Then you are the man, the veritable vendor of Eli Treffynnon?

"Of course I am. I thought the waitress had duly informed you of that."

_Myself_. No, no; but never mind. I'm delighted to see you. Your speech on your ointment awoke in my bosom an intense longing to see this place; and I've come almost specially to see for myself its wonders. I hope, therefore, Mr. Eli, you have no special engagement this morning.

"And suppose I have not?"

_Myself_. In that case I trust you will be my cicerone. I am extremely anxious to know the history and traditions of the wonderful well.

"I'll accompany you with pleasure, and tell its wondrous history. When shall we start?"

_Myself_. Now, if you please.

Just as we reached the lower part of the princ.i.p.al street, we saw a man with measured steps approaching us. The man had a leathern strap fastened round his neck, at the other end of which was suspended a large bell, a cushion being buckled to the right knee. Every time the cushioned knee came forward the bell jingled, and it being of considerable size its tones could be heard a long distance from the scene of the man's perambulations. When he came up to the place where we were standing, I asked Mr. Eli the question,-

"Is that man mad?"

"By no means: he is in his right mind."

_Myself_. No sane man, I should think, would be guilty of such folly.

"The man," replied Mr. Eli, "is doing a Christian duty."

_Myself_. I fail to see any act of devotion in carrying a bell about the town. Please, Mr. Eli, explain yourself.

"You, a stranger, very naturally conclude the man is demented. When you know the object of his mission you will come to a different opinion."

_Myself_. Pray, Mr. Eli, enlighten me.

"We have a church here, my dear sir."