The view from the hill over Llanvair, and the stream beyond it, meandring betwixt woods, aided by a glittering setting sun, was truly enlivening; as well as the sound of the church bells, and the buz of the people: but, too soon, I discover’d the little town to be throng’d with market folk, and uproar.  T.B. came forth to say, that at the Goat ale-house (to which we had a recommendation) there were no horse-lodgings; and so, he had try’d the Cross-Foxes, (the arms of Sr W. W. Wynn) where, at last, the horses were shelter’d in something like a stable; as for the house, it was fill’d by dancers, and drinkers, celebrating a wedding.  I return’d to meet Mr P[almer]. and then we retir’d to a seat in the church yard; under an immense yew tree; […] whence we often arose to see the dancing, and observe the drunkenness. […] There is no harper at this place, but only a (fine) violin player, who has had very hard work to day.