Da ydyw'r gwaith, rhaid d'we'yd y gwir,
Ar fryniau Sir Meirionydd;
Golwg oer o'r gwaela gawn
Mae hi etto yn llawn llawenydd.

Though Meirion's rocks, and hills of heath,
Repel the distant sight,
Yet where, than those bleak hills beneath,
Is found more true delight?

At length the young lady awoke. She was startled at the sudden
sight of the stranger, and somewhat terrified at the first
perception of her position. But she soon recovered her self-
possession, and, extending her hand to the offered hand of Mr.
Chainmail, she raised herself up on the tree, and stepped on the
rocky bank.

Mr. Chainmail solicited permission to attend her to her home, which
the young lady graciously conceded. They emerged from the woody
dingle, traversed an open heath, wound along a mountain road by the
shore of a lake, descended to the deep bed of another stream,
crossed it by a series of stepping-stones, ascended to some height
on the opposite side, and followed upwards the line of the stream,
till the banks opened into a spacious amphitheatre, where stood, in
its fields and meadows, the farmhouse of Ap-Llymry.

During this walk, they had kept up a pretty animated conversation.
The lady had lost her hat, and, as she turned towards Mr.