"Why he went to Llangollen, your honour, and died of a drunken fever in less than a month.""Well, but might he not have died of the same, if he had remained at home?""No, your honour, no! he lived here many a year, and never died of a drunken fever; he was rather fond of liquor, it is true, but he never died at Bala of a drunken fever; but when he went to Llangollen he did. Now, your honour, if there is not something more drunken about Llangollen than about Bala, why did my nephew die at Llangollen of a drunken fever?""Really," said I, "you are such a close reasoner, that I do not like to dispute with you. One observation however, I wish to make:
I have lived at Llangollen, without, I hope, becoming a drunkard.""Oh, your honour is out of the question," said the Celtic waiter with a strange grimace. "Your honour is an Englishman, an English gentleman, and of course could live all the days of your life at Llangollen without being a drunkard, he, he! Who ever heard of an Englishman, especially an English gentleman, being a drunkard, he, he, he. And now, your honour, pray excuse me, for I must go and see that your honour's dinner is being got ready in a suitable manner."Thereupon he left me with a bow yet lower than any I had previously seen him make. If his manners put me in mind of those of a Frenchman, his local prejudices brought powerfully to my recollection those of a Spaniard. Tom Jenkins swears by Bala and abuses Llangollen, and calls its people drunkards, just as a Spaniard exalts his own village and vituperates the next and its inhabitants, whom, though he will not call them drunkards, unless indeed he happens to be a Gallegan, he will not hesitate to term "una caterva de pillos y embusteros."The dinner when it appeared was excellent, and consisted of many more articles than I had ordered. After dinner, as I sat "trifling" with my cold brandy and water, an individual entered, a short thick dumpy man about thirty, with brown clothes and a broad hat, and holding in his hand a large leather bag. He gave me a familiar nod, and passing by the table at which I sat, to one near the window, he flung the bag upon it, and seating himself in a chair with his profile towards me, he untied the bag, from which he poured a large quantity of sovereigns upon the table and fell to counting them. After counting them three times he placed them again in the bag which he tied up, then taking a small book, seemingly an account-book, out of his pocket, he wrote something in it with a pencil, then putting it in his pocket he took the bag and unlocking a beaufet which stood at some distance behind him against the wall, he put the bag into a drawer; then again locking the beaufet he sat down in the chair, then tilting the chair back upon its hind legs he kept swaying himself backwards and forwards upon it, his toes sometimes upon the ground, sometimes mounting until they tapped against the nether side of the table, surveying me all the time with a queer kind of a side glance, and occasionally ejecting saliva upon the carpet in the direction of place where Isat.
"Fine weather, sir," said I, at last, rather tired of being skewed and spit at in this manner.
"Why yaas," said the figure; "the day is tolerably fine, but I have seen a finer.""Well, I don't remember to have seen one," said I; "it is as fine a day as I have seen during the present season, and finer weather than I have seen during this season I do not think I ever saw before.""The weather is fine enough for Britain," said the figure, "but there are other countries besides Britain.""Why," said I, "there's the States, 'tis true.""Ever been in the States, Mr?" said the figure quickly.
"Have I ever been in the States," said I, "have I ever been in the States?""Perhaps you are of the States, Mr; I thought so from the first.""The States are fine countries," said I.
"I guess they are, Mr."
"It would be no easy matter to whip the States.""So I should guess, Mr."
"That is, single-handed," said I.
"Single-handed, no nor double-handed either. Let England and France and the State which they are now trying to whip without being able to do it, that's Russia, all unite in a union to whip the Union, and if instead of whipping the States they don't get a whipping themselves, call me a braying jackass - ""I see, Mr," said I, "that you are a sensible man, because you speak very much my own opinion. However, as I am an unprejudiced person, like yourself, I wish to do justice to other countries -the States are fine countries - but there are other fine countries in the world. I say nothing of England; catch me saying anything good of England; but I call Wales a fine country; gainsay it who may, I call Wales a fine country.""So it is, Mr."
"I'll go farther," said I; "I wish to do justice to everything: Icall the Welsh a fine language."
"So it is, Mr. Ah, I see you are an unprejudiced man. You don't understand Welsh, I guess.""I don't understand Welsh," said I; "I don't understand Welsh.
That's what I call a good one."
"Medrwch siarad Cumraeg?" said the short figure spitting on the carpet.
"Medraf," said I.
"You can, Mr! Well, if that don't whip the Union. But I see: you were born in the States of Welsh parents.""No harm in being born in the States of Welsh parents," said I.
"None at all, Mr; I was myself, and the first language I learnt to speak was Welsh. Did your people come from Bala, Mr?""Why no! Did yourn?"
"Why yaas - at least from the neighbourhood. What State do you come from? Virginny?""Why no!"
"Perhaps Pensilvany country?"
"Pensilvany is a fine State," said I.