Perhaps you have Welsh?"
"Plenty," said he, laughing "there is no lack of Welsh amongst any
of us here. Are you a Welshman?"
"No," said I, "an Englishman from the far east of Lloegr."
"And what brings you here?" said the man.
"A strange errand," I replied, "to look at the birth-place of a man
who has long been dead."
"Do you come to seek for an inheritance?" said the man.
"No," said I. "Besides the man whose birth-place I came to see,
died poor, leaving nothing behind him but immortality."
"Who was he?" said the miller.
"Did you ever hear a sound of Gronwy Owen?" said I.
"Frequently," said the miller; "I have frequently heard a sound of
him. He was born close by in a house yonder," pointing to the
south.
"Oh yes, gentleman," said a nice-looking woman, who holding a
little child by the hand was come to the house-door, and was
eagerly listening, "we have frequently heard speak of Gronwy Owen;
there is much talk of him in these parts."
"I am glad to hear it," said I, "for I have feared that his name
would not be known here."
"Pray, gentleman, walk in!" said the miller; "we are going to have
our afternoon's meal, and shall be rejoiced if you will join us."
"Yes, do, gentleman," said the miller's wife, for such the good
woman was; "and many a welcome shall you have."
I hesitated, and was about to excuse myself.
"Don't refuse, gentleman!" said both, "surely you are not too proud
to sit down with us?"
"I am afraid I shall only cause you trouble," said I.
"Dim blinder, no trouble," exclaimed both at once; "pray do walk
in!"
I entered the house, and the kitchen, parlour, or whatever it was,
a nice little room with a slate floor. They made me sit down at a
table by the window, which was already laid for a meal. There was
a clean cloth upon it, a tea-pot, cups and saucers, a large plate
of bread-and-butter, and a plate, on which were a few very thin
slices of brown, watery cheese.
My good friends took their seats, the wife poured out tea for the
stranger and her husband, helped us both to bread-and-butter and
the watery cheese, then took care of herself. Before, however, I
could taste the tea, the wife, seeming to recollect herself,
started up, and hurrying to a cupboard, produced a basin full of
snow-white lump sugar, and taking the spoon out of my hand, placed
two of the largest lumps in my cup, though she helped neither her
husband nor herself; the sugar-basin being probably only kept for
grand occasions.
My eyes filled with tears; for in the whole course of my life I had
never experienced so much genuine hospitality.
