Wherever she went, it was there that she goED.
She frequently said: 'My own row have I hoED,
And likewise the church water-mark have I toED.
I'm therefore expecting to reap what I've sowED,
And go straight to heaven from Bettws-y-CoED.'"


At another stage of our journey, when the coaching tour was nearly
ended, we were stopping at the Royal Goat at Beddgelert. We were
seated about the cheerful blaze (one and sixpence extra), portfolio
in lap, making ready our letters for the post. I announced my
intention of writing to Salemina, left behind in London with a
sprained ankle, and determined that the missive should be saturated
with local colour. None of us were able to spell the few Welsh
words we had picked up in our journeyings, but I evaded the
difficulties by writing an exciting little episode in which all the
principal substantives were names of Welsh towns, dragged in
bodily, and so used as to deceive the casual untravelled reader.

I read it aloud. Jack Copley declared that it made capital sense,
and sounded as if it had happened exactly as stated. Perhaps you
will agree with him:-


DDOLGHYHGGLLWN, WALES

. . . We left Bettws-y-Coed yesterday morning, and coached thirty-
three miles to this point. (How do you like this point when you
see it spelled?) We lunched at a wayside inn, and as we journeyed
on we began to see pposters on the ffences announcing the ffact