the honey comb and the mothers made candles out of the beeswax. The
new comers named the country Honey Island.

The brave Cymry men had battles with the darker skinned people who
were already there. When any one, young or old, died, their friends
and relatives sat up all night guarding the body against wild beasts
or savage men. This grew to be a settled custom and such a meeting was
called a "wake." Everyone present did keep awake, and often in a very
lively way.

As the Cymry multiplied, they built many _don_, or towns. All
over the land to-day are names ending in _don_ like London, or
Croydon, showing where these villages were.

But while occupied in things for the body, their great ruler did not
neglect matters of the mind. He found that some of his people had good
voices and loved to sing. Others delighted in making poetry. So he
invented or improved the harp, and fixed the rules of verse and song.

Thus ages before writing was known, the Cymry preserved their history
and handed down what the wise ones taught.

Men might be born, live and die, come and go, like leaves on the
trees, which expand in the springtime and fall in the autumn; but
their songs, and poetry, and noble language never die. Even to-day,
the Cymry love the speech of their fathers almost as well as they love
their native land.

Yet things were not always lovely in Honey Land, or as sweet as sugar.
As the tribes scattered far apart to settle in this or that valley,