LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

weather,” said I.

      “Very, sir,” said the elder female. “Won’t you please to sit down?” and reaching back into the tent, she pulled out a stool which she placed near me.

      I sat down on the stool. “You are not from these parts?” said I, addressing myself to the man.

      “We are not, your haner,” said the man; “we are from Ireland.”

      “And this lady,” said I, motioning with my head to the elder female, “is, I suppose, your wife.”

      “She is, your haner, and the children which your haner sees are my children.”

      “And who is this young lady?” said I, motioning to the uncouth-looking girl.

      “The young lady, as your haner is pleased to call her, is a daughter of a sister of mine who is now dead, along with her husband. We have her with us, your haner, because if we did not she would be alone in the world.”

      “And what trade or profession do you follow?” said I.

      “We do a bit in the tinkering line, your haner.”

      “Do you find tinkering a very profitable profession?” said I.

      “Not very, your haner; but we contrive to get a crust and a drink by it.”

      “That’s more than I ever could,” said I.

      “Has your haner then ever followed tinkering?” said the man.

      “Yes,” said I, “but I soon left off.”

      “And became a minister,” said the elder female. “Well, your honour is not the first indifferent tinker, that’s turn’d out a shining minister.”

      “Why do you think me a minister?”

      “Because your honour has the very look and voice of one. Oh, it was kind of your honour to come to us here in the Sabbath evening, in order that you might bring us God.”

      “What do you mean by bringing you God?” said I.

      “Talking to us about good things, sir, and instructing us out of the Holy Book.”

      “I am no minister,” said I.

      “Then you are a priest; I am sure that you are either a minister or a priest; and now that I look on you, sir, I think you look more like a priest than a minister. Yes, I see you are a priest. Oh, your Reverence, give us God! pull out the crucifix from your bosom, and let us kiss the face of God!”

      “Of what religion are you?” said I.

      “Catholics, your Reverence, Catholics are we all.”

      “I am no priest.”

      “Then you are a minister; I am sure you are either a priest or a minister. O sir, pull out the Holy Book, and instruct us from it this blessed Sabbath evening. Give us God, sir, give us God!”

      “And would you, who are Catholics, listen to the voice of a minister?”

      “That would we, sir; at least I would. If you are a minister, and a good minister, I would as soon listen to your words as those of Father Toban himself.”

      “And who is Father Toban?”

      “A powerful priest in these parts, sir, who has more than once eased me of my sins, and given me God upon the cross. Oh, a powerful and comfortable priest is Father Toban.”

      “And what would he say if he were to know that you asked for God from a minister?”

      “I do not know, and do not much care; if I get God, I do not care whether I get Him from a minister or a priest; both have Him, no doubt, only give Him in different ways. O sir, do give us God; we need Him, sir, for we are sinful people; we call ourselves tinkers, but many is the sinful thing – ”

      “Bi-do-hosd,” said the man: Irish words tantamount to “Be silent!”

      “I will not be hushed,” said the woman, speaking English. “The man is a good man, and he will do us no harm. We are tinkers, sir; but we do many things besides tinkering, many sinful things, especially in Wales, whither we are soon going again. Oh, I want to be eased of some of my sins before I go into Wales again, and so do you Tourlough, for you know how you are sometimes haunted by Devils at night in those dreary Welsh hills. O sir, give us comfort in some shape or other, either as priest or minister; give us God! give us God!”

      “I am neither priest nor minister,” said I, “and can only say: Lord have mercy upon you!” Then getting up I flung the children some money and departed.

      “We do not want your money, sir,” screamed the woman after me; “we have plenty of money. Give us God! give us God!”

      “Yes, your haner,” said the man, “Give us God! we do not want money;” and the uncouth girl said something, which sounded much like Give us God! but I hastened across the meadow, which was now quite dusky, and was presently in the inn with my wife and daughter.

      CHAPTER V

      Welsh Book-Stall – Wit and Poetry – Welsh of Chester – Beautiful Morning – Noble Fellow – The Coiling Serpent – Wrexham Church – Welsh or English? – Codiad yr Ehedydd.

      On the afternoon of Monday I sent my family off by the train to Llangollen, which place we had determined to make our headquarters during our stay in Wales. I intended to follow them next day, not in train, but on foot, as by walking I should be better able to see the country, between Chester and Llangollen, than by making the journey by the flying vehicle. As I returned to the inn from the train I took refuge from a shower in one of the rows or covered streets, to which, as I have already said, one ascends by flights of steps; stopping at a book-stall I took up a book which chanced to be a Welsh one – the proprietor, a short red-faced man, observing me reading the book, asked me if I could understand it. I told him that I could.

      “If so,” said he, “let me hear you translate the two lines on the title-page.”

      “Are you a Welshman?” said I.

      “I am!” he replied.

      “Good!” said I, and I translated into English the two lines which were a couplet by Edmund Price, an old archdeacon of Merion, celebrated in his day for wit and poetry.

      The man then asked me from what part of Wales I came, and when I told him that I was an Englishman was evidently offended, either because he did not believe me, or, as I more incline to think, did not approve of an Englishman’s understanding Welsh.

      The book was the life of the Rev. Richards, and was published at Caerlleon, or the city of the legion, the appropriate ancient British name for the place now called Chester, a legion having been kept stationed there during the occupation of Britain by the Romans.

      I returned to the inn and dined, and then yearning for society, descended into the kitchen and had some conversation with the Welsh maid. She told me that there were a great many Welsh in Chester from all parts of Wales, but chiefly from Denbighshire and Flintshire, which latter was her own county. That a great many children were born in Chester of Welsh parents, and brought up in the fear of God and love of the Welsh tongue. That there were some who had never been in Wales, who spoke as good Welsh as herself, or better. That the Welsh of Chester were of various religious persuasions; that some were Baptists, some Independents, but that the greater parts were Calvinistic-Methodists; that she herself was a Calvinistic-Methodist; that the different persuasions had their different chapels, in which God was prayed to in Welsh; that there were very few Welsh in Chester who belonged to the Church of England, and that the Welsh in general do not like Church of England worship, as I should soon find if I went into Wales.

      Late in the evening I directed my steps across the bridge to the green, where I had discoursed with the Irish itinerants. I wished to have some more conversation with them respecting their way of life, and, likewise, as they had so strongly desired it, to give them a little Christian comfort, for my conscience reproached me for my abrupt departure on the preceding evening. On arriving at the green, however, I found them gone, and no traces of them but the mark of their

Скачать книгу