rankness often attendant upon such marshes. But the valley beyond,
similar in character, had yet more of gloom at the time of which I
write. In the higher part there were large plantations of firs, set
too closely to attain any size, and remaining stunted in height and
scrubby in appearance. Indeed, many of the smaller and more weakly
had died, and the bark had fallen down on the brown soil neglected
and unnoticed. These trees had a ghastly appearance, with their
white trunks, seen by the dim light which struggled through the thick
boughs above. Nearer to the sea, the valley assumed a more open,
though hardly a more cheerful character; it looked dark and overhung
by sea-fog through the greater part of the year, and even a farm-
house, which usually imparts something of cheerfulness to a
landscape, failed to do so here. This valley formed the greater part
of the estate to which Owen Griffiths became entitled by right of his
wife. In the higher part of the valley was situated the family
mansion, or rather dwelling-house, for "mansion" is too grand a word
to apply to the clumsy, but substantially-built Bodowen. It was
square and heavy-looking, with just that much pretension to ornament
necessary to distinguish it from the mere farm-house.

In this dwelling Mrs. Owen Griffiths bore her husband two sons--
Llewellyn, the future Squire, and Robert, who was early destined for
the Church. The only difference in their situation, up to the time
when Robert was entered at Jesus College, was, that the elder was
invariably indulged by all around him, while Robert was thwarted and
indulged by turns; that Llewellyn never learned anything from the
poor Welsh parson, who was nominally his private tutor; while
occasionally Squire Griffiths made a great point of enforcing
Robert's diligence, telling him that, as he had his bread to earn, he
must pay attention to his learning. There is no knowing how far the