Welsh Journals

and get to know Wales we would hope that our own children equally have their opportunity to know Wales and England. Here are extracts from two of the articles in the magazines A DAY'S WALK OVER CEFN BRYN AT 10.30 WE LEFT Kilvrough Manor. We were all huddled in our anoraks as there was a sharp wind blowing and the air was cold. As we led down the sandy lane our hot breath could be seen against the cold air. Through the small wocd we went and onto a small path that led to the road. The little wooden stile at the end could just be seen. There was a mist coming above the trees and the birds began singing. After getting over the stile we journeyed down the road, the noise of our boots and laughter could be clearly heard as we marched along. The little village of Parkmill was just visible-overhead hung the mist. The dew dripped from the trees and the grass was wet. As we rounded the corner a little cottage was peeping over the hill. The thatch was brown and it seemed to smile at us as we passed. The next house was a small inn with tiny windows which were dimpled. It was white with black window sills and doors. At the entrance were two old lamps that shone brightly. We passed several other houses, plain and sedate, with gardens and little wooden fences around them. On the left hand side at the bottom of a slope trickled a little brook or river. The water shone silver and as the drops of dew dripped from the trees they splashed into the water. We crossed a road and journeyed down a muddy track in a wood, called Northhill Wood. Our shoes and boots seemed to sink in the mud, and we had to heave to get them out again. On either side of the track were brambles, their long branches sweeping the ground. Their sharp prickles stuck in our fingers as we brushed them away. The mud was deep and we walked carefully to save ourselves from slipping. Just ahead was an old farmhouse and beyond lay the village of Penmaen. As we came into the village, peeping through the houses we could see Cefn Bryn. There it lay in majestic beauty -the King of Gower standing like a giant among the people. It took a long hard walk to get to the top. Ferns grew and the grass was dry and short. Sheep were dotted here and there, their woolly coats protecting them from the cold wind. When we reached the top it was sheer beauty, the landscape was terrific. To the south lay the sea. The sun's rays fell on it and it looked like golden beads on the sea. It was calm and to the right lay