human
Tourist coaches, running between Caernarvon and Dolgelly, which had pulled up at a wayside inn about thirteen miles from Tan-y-bwlch. I was attracted by the coachman, whose name was, if I recollect rightly, Roberts, intently studying the address on a small parcel. It evidently caused him great trouble to decipher it, as he first turned it up, and then he turned it down, but neither right side up nor wrong side up could he satisfy himself, and, at last, looking up and seeing me, he came for assistance out of his difficulties, saying he was not a very good scholar. When I looked at the address, I said,
gpt
You should have left this at Tan-y-bwlch.
human
Well, dear me, said he,