as the authentic poems of another, he being a highly respectable clergyman, the necessary conclusion is that the Ossianic poems which both published are genuine and collected in the manner in which both stated they were."

After a little more discourse about Ossian the old gentleman asked me if there was any good modern Gaelic poetry. "None very modern," said I: "the last great poets of the Gael were Macintyre and Buchanan, who flourished about the middle of the last century. The first sang of love and of Highland scenery; the latter was a religious poet. The best piece of Macintyre is an ode to Ben Dourain, or the Hill of the Water-dogs-a mountain in the Highlands. The master piece of Buchanan is his La Breitheanas or Day of Judgment, which is equal in merit, or nearly so, to the Cywydd y Farn, or Judgment Day of your own immortal Gronwy Owen. Singular that the two best pieces on the Day of Judgment should have been written in two Celtic dialects, and much about the same time; but such is the fact."

Really," said the old church clerk, “you seem to know something of Celtic literature."

"A little," said I; "I am a bit of a philologist; and when studying languages dip a little into the literature which they contain."

As I had heard him say that he had occasionally given lessons in the Welsh language, I inquired whether any of his pupils had made much progress in it. "The generality," said he, "soon became tired of its difficulties, and gave it up without making any progress at all. Two or three got on tolerably well. One however acquired it in a time so short that it might be deemed marvellous. He was an Oxonian, and came down with another in the vacation in order to study hard against the yearly collegiate examination. He and his friend took lodgings at Pengwern Hall, then a farm-house, and studied and walked about for some time, as other young men from college, who come down here, are in the habit of doing. One day he and his friend came to me who was then clerk, and desired to see the interior of the church.

So I took the key and went with them into the church. When he came to the altar he took up the large Welsh Common Prayer book which was lying there and looked into it.

"A curious language this Welsh,' said he; 'I should like to learn it.'

Many have wished to learn it, without being able,' said I; it is no easy language.'

"I should like to try,' he replied; 'I wish I could find some one who would give me a few lessons.'

"I have occasionally given instructions in Welsh,' said I, 'and shall be happy to oblige you.'

Well, it was agreed that he should take lessons of me; and to my house he came every evening, and I gave him what instructions I could. I was astonished at his progress. He acquired the pronunciation in a lesson, and within a week was able to construe and converse. By the time he left Llangollen, and he was not here in all more than two months, he understood the Welsh Bible as well as I did, and could speak Welsh so well that the Welsh, who

did not know him, took him to be one of themselves, for he spoke the language with the very tone and manner of a native. O, he was the cleverest man for language that I ever knew; not a word that he heard did he ever forget."

"Just like Mezzofanti," said I, "the great cardinal philologist. But whilst learning Welsh, did he not neglect his collegiate studies?"

Well, I was rather apprehensive on that point," said the old gentleman, "but mark the event. At the examination he came off most brilliantly in Latin, Greek, mathematics and other things too; in fact, a double first class man, as I think they call it.”

"I never heard of so extraordinary an individual," said I. "I could no more have done did, than I could have taken

what you say he wings and flown.

Pray what was his name? "His name," said the old gentleman, "was Earl."

I was much delighted with my new acquaintance, and paid him frequent visits; the more I saw him the more he interested me.

He was kind and benevolent, a good old Church of England Christian, was well versed in several dialects of the Celtic, and possessed an astonishing deal of Welsh heraldic and antiquarian lore. Often whilst discoursing with him I almost fancied that I was with Master Salisburie, Vaughan of Hengwrt, or some other worthy of old, deeply skilled in every thing remarkable connected with wild "Camber's Lande."