Let us be thankful that we are now more humane to each other.

We are now on the north side of Pen y Coed.

Do you know the meaning of Pen y Coed, sir ?" "Pen y Coed," said I, "means the head of the wood.

I suppose that in the old time the mountain looked over some extensive forest, even as the nunnery of Pengwern looked originally over an alder-swamp, for Pengwern means the head of the alder-swamp." "So it does, sir, I shouldn't wonder if you could tell me the real meaning of a word, about which I have thought a good deal, and about which I was puzzling my head last night as I lay in bed." "What may it be ?" said I.
"Carn-lleidyr," he replied: "now, sir, do you know the meaning of that word ?" "I think I do," said I.
"What may it be, sir ?" "First let me hear what you conceive its meaning to be," said I.
"Why, sir, I should say that Carn-lleidyr is an out-and-out thief--one worse than a thief of the common sort.

Now, if I steal a matrass I am a lleidyr, that is a thief of the common sort; but if I carry it to a person, and he buys it, knowing it to be stolen, I conceive he is a far worse thief than I; in fact, a carn-lleidyr." "The word is a double word," said I, "compounded of carn and lleidyr.
The original meaning of carn is a heap of stones, and carn-lleidyr means properly a thief without house or home, and with no place on which to rest his head, save the carn or heap of stones on the bleak top of the mountain.