书城公版Wild Wales
19886000000136

第136章 CHAPTER LVII(2)

Continuing my way I soon overtook a man driving five or six very large hogs. One of these which was muzzled was of a truly immense size, and walked with considerable difficulty on account of its fatness. I walked for some time by the side of the noble porker, admiring it. At length a man rode up on horseback from the way we had come; he said something to the driver of the hogs, who instantly unmuzzled the immense creature, who gave a loud grunt on finding his snout and mouth free. From the conversation which ensued between the two men I found that the driver was the servant and the other the master.

"Those hogs are too fat to drive along the road," said I at last to the latter.

"We brought them in a cart as far as the Pentre Dwr," said the man on horseback, "but as they did not like the jolting we took them out.""And where are you taking them to?" said. I.

"To Llangollen," said the man, "for the fair on Monday.""What does that big fellow weigh?" said I, pointing to the largest hog.

"He'll weigh about eighteen score," said the man.

"What do you mean by eighteen score?" said I.

"Eighteen score of pounds," said the man.

"And how much do you expect to get for him?""Eight pounds; I shan't take less."

"And who will buy him?" said I.

"Some gent from Wolverhampton or about there," said the man; "there will be plenty of gents from Wolverhampton at the fair.""And what do you fatten your hogs upon?" said I.

"Oatmeal," said the man.

"And why not on barley-meal?"

"Oatmeal is the best," said the man; "the gents from Wolverhampton prefer them fattened on oatmeal.""Do the gents of Wolverhampton," said I, "eat the hogs?""They do not," said the man; "they buy them to sell again; and they like hogs fed on oatmeal best, because they are the fattest.""But the pork is not the best," said I; "all hog-flesh raised on oatmeal is bitter and wiry; because do you see - ""I see you are in the trade," said the man, "and understand a thing or two.""I understand a thing or two," said I, "but I am not in the trade.

Do you come from far?"

"From Llandeglo," said the man.

"Are you a hog-merchant?" said I.

"Yes," said he, "and a horse-dealer, and a farmer, though rather a small one.""I suppose as you are a horse-dealer," said I, "you travel much about?""Yes," said the man; "I have travelled a good deal about Wales and England.""Have you been in Ynys Fon?" said I.

"I see you are a Welshman," said the man.

"No," said I, "but I know a little Welsh.""Ynys Fon!" said the man. "Yes, I have been in Anglesey more times than I can tell.""Do you know Hugh Pritchard," said I, "who lives at Pentraeth Coch?""I know him well," said the man, "and an honest fellow he is.""And Mr Bos?" said I.

"What Bos?" said he. "Do you mean a lusty, red-faced man in top-boots and grey coat?"

"That's he," said I.

"He's a clever one," said the man. "I suppose by your knowing these people you are a drover or a horse-dealer. Yes," said he, turning half-round in his saddle and looking at me, "you are a horse-dealer. I remember you well now, and once sold a horse to you at Chelmsford.""I am no horse-dealer," said I, "nor did I ever buy a horse at Chelmsford. I see you have been about England. Have you ever been in Norfolk or Suffolk?""No," said the man, "but I know something of Suffolk. I have an uncle there.""Whereabouts in Suffolk?" said I.

"At a place called -," said the man.

"In what line of business?" said I.

"In none at all; he is a clergyman."

"Shall I tell you his name?" said I.

"It is not likely you should know his name," said the man.

"Nevertheless," said I, "I will tell it you - his name was - ""Well," said the man, "sure enough that is his name.""It was his name," said I, "but I am sorry to tell you he is no more. To-day is Saturday. He died last Tuesday week and was probably buried last Monday. An excellent man was Dr. H. O. Acredit to his country and to his order."

The man was silent for some time and then said with a softer voice and a very different manner from that he had used before, "I never saw him but once, and that was more than twenty years ago - but Ihave heard say that he was an excellent man - I see, sir, that you are a clergyman.""I am no clergyman," said I, "but I knew your uncle and prized him.

What was his native place?"

"Corwen," said the man, then taking out his handkerchief he wiped his eyes, and said with a faltering voice: "This will be heavy news there."We were now past the monastery, and bidding him farewell Idescended to the canal, and returned home by its bank, whilst the Welsh drover, the nephew of the learned, eloquent and exemplary Welsh doctor, pursued with his servant and animals his way by the high road to Llangollen.

Many sons of Welsh yeomen brought up to the Church have become ornaments of it in distant Saxon land, but few, very few, have by learning, eloquence and Christian virtues reflected so much lustre upon it as Hugh O- of Corwen.