THE NATIONALIST. 29 ^ tfforbb 3>bu. By OWEN RHOSCOMYL. " Y FFORDD DDU—The Black Road. Repeat that phrase in Dolgellau, or anywhere round the western skirts of Cader Idris, and you will find that you have lighted on the road to old romance, to winds that still come down to us from pagan days—nay, you have lighted on the road to Faery itself. Yet must you use the phrase to the right folk. If it be your mere townsman of Dolgellau to whom you speak the Three Words of Power, belike he will but say— " Ah yes, that is the old Roman Road, up in the mountains. It goes over to Towyn. You go along that road to it," and he will point to the steep highway that goes west¬ ward from the clustered town. But if you follow whither he points; if you breast the road till you come to where it forks, then steel your hearts against the lure of the broad main way, that slips away, down by tall trees and pleasant meadows, to wind with the singing river along the green vale till it comes the glory of the gleaming aber. Turn your face from all that, lift your eyes along the white rise of the other way, that climbs and ever climbs to the skyline up yonder—take that road. Take that road and you shall come presently to a folk that knows another fashion of answer to the Three Words. But as you go you must be resolute ; you must keep fast hold of your eyes and all your senses. For on your left, as you climb, you will come into the presence of the splendid front of the Cader—Cader Idris. Keep your eyes along the road then ; let them not lift upwards, let them not catch the mystic shadows flung into the vast cwm in which sleep the bottomless deeps of dark and haunted Llyn-y-Gader. If you fail but once ; if you look but once that purple way, then all your purpose is undone. That ancient majesty will draw you ; you will leave the road; you will leave the search; you will forget, and—"Y Ffordd Ddu? Ah, to-morrow: to-morrow will do for the Black Road." Keep to the road then, and (since you may not shut out all the glory of God's handiwork about you) look to your right, in some compensation for what you deny yourself on your left. Moreover, ask your question again of the sparse folk you may get sight of here and there. Farm folk they are, upland farm folk, and to them the Black Road is the touchstone of many memories. In their young days it was the only road to Towyn, and the baiting place was at Havotty Vach, far forward, yonder beyond Llyn Gwernan. They know, because the old preachers, the men of the great names and the massive faces, used to bait their