"Hullo!" exclaimed he, "what have you got there? Why, it's Moel Siabod and the Llugwy, though I don't know the exact point of view." For the moment I deemed he was joking, as was his wont; but on looking again at the canvas with fresh eyes I saw that, quite unwittingly, I had repeated the general outline of that mountain, with even some details of the landscape of the valley below—not by any means an accurate representation of the scene, but sufficiently like to show how much I was unconsciously indebted to the original for my composition. I have still the painting by me, and on showing it to a friend well acquainted with the district, and after so far enlightening him as to say it was a Welsh view, he declared he knew the very spot I had painted it from! So powerful oftentimes are impressions; for it was solely a forgotten impression I had painted!
Now, it happened that later on our journey we mentioned to a stranger (with whom we gossiped, as we always do with interesting strangers we come across, if they will) the fact that so struck us about Harrington Church, its looking so new, whilst the tombs inside were so old. He exclaimed in reply, "Well, you see the old church was pulled down and entirely rebuilt. It was a pity, but it had to be. Its foundations had given way so that the building was slowly sinking into the ground." This remark brought to our mind one of the few possible clues of subject detail, as showing some distinct local colouring, for in "Locksley Hall Sixty Years After," we read:—
