of Carmarthen, and got to Aber Gwylif the first day; from thence I reached Rhyd Argaeau, where I met with the Rev. Mr. Morgan, a sensible clergyman, to whom I related my troubles, and who notwithstanding insisted on my writing something in poetry, to testify my having past there. To oblige him I wrote the following Breichiau Cywydd, suitable to my temper and circumstances:
"Fo fethodd, pylodd y pen,
Dan rew mae'r dyner Awen.
Os rhydd Duw gwyn terfyn teg,
Ni chwynaf ddim ychwaneg.
Po gyfyngaf, trymaf tro,
Yr a'r gwan i oer gwyno,
Ehangaf, rhwyddaf er hyn,
Duw nef, od awn i'w ofyn."
All this poetry is nothing but a very pious Welsh proverb reduced to Cywydd metre. Po gyfyngaf yw gan ddyn, changaf yw gan Dduw. This I had found remarkably verified before I set out on my journey, of which you are well acquainted. The next day I set out in bad weather, and had very dirty roads to travel, and I was incommoded with the carriage of two handkerchiefs replenished with books and wearing apparel. To have seen me wading up to my ankles thus encumbered was a very phantastic sight, and to me very irksome; but, however, I put on resolution, and waded through thick and thin, till I reached the New Inn. Here, as Providence would have it, I met a man from the parish of Lledrod, who disencumbered me the inconvenient load of the handkerchiefs, and also of my great
