The following stanza was on the stone of Jane, the daughter of Elizabeth Williams, who died on the second of May, 1843: "Er myn'd i'r oerllyd annedd Dros dymher hir i orwedd, Cwyd i'r lan o'r gwely bridd Ac hyfryd fydd ei hagwedd." which is "Though thou art gone to dwelling cold To lie in mould for many a year, Thou shalt, at length, from earthy bed, Uplift thy head to blissful sphere." As we went along I stopped to gaze at a singular-looking hill forming part of the mountain range on the east.

I asked John Jones what its name was, but he did not know.

As we were standing talking about it, a lady came up from the direction in which our course lay.

John Jones, touching his hat to her, said: "Madam, this gwr boneddig wishes to know the name of that moel, perhaps you can tell him." "Its name is Moel Agrik," said the lady, addressing me in English.
"Does that mean Agricola's hill ?" said I.
"It does," said she, "and there is a tradition that the Roman General Agricola, when he invaded these parts, pitched his camp on that moel.
The hill is spoken of by Pennant." "Thank you, madam," said I; "perhaps you can tell me the name of the delightful grounds in which we stand, supposing they have a name ?" "They are called Oaklands," said the lady.
"A very proper name," said I, "for there is plenty of oaks growing about.
But why are they called by a Saxon name, for Oaklands is Saxon ?" "Because," said the lady, "when the grounds were first planted with trees they belonged to an English family." "Thank you," said I, and, taking off my hat, I departed with my guide.

I asked him her name, but he could not tell me.