Wild Wales: Its People, Language And Scenery By George Borrow





































































 -   Thank you!  Farewell.

Then you won't walk in, sir?

Not to drink tea, said I, tea is a good thing - Page 195
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Thank You!

Farewell."

"Then you won't walk in, sir?

"Not to drink tea," said I, "tea is a good thing at a proper time, but were I to drink it now, it would make me ill."

"Pray, sir, walk in," said the woman, "and perhaps I can accommodate you."

"Then you have ale?" said I.

"No, sir; not a drop, but perhaps I can set something before you which you will like as well."

"That I question," said I, "however, I will walk in."

The woman conducted me into a nice little parlour, and, leaving me, presently returned with a bottle and tumbler on a tray.

"Here, sir," said she, "is something, which though not ale, I hope you will be able to drink."

"What is it?" said I.

"It is -, sir; and better never was drunk."

I tasted it; it was terribly strong. Those who wish for either whisky or brandy far above proof, should always go to a temperance house.

I told the woman to bring me some water, and she brought me a jug of water cold from the spring. With a little of the contents of the bottle, and a deal of the contents of the jug, I made myself a beverage tolerable enough; a poor substitute, however, to a genuine Englishman for his proper drink, the liquor which, according to the Edda, is called by men ale, and by the gods beer.

I asked the woman whether she could read; she told me that she could, both Welsh and English; she likewise informed me that she had several books in both languages. I begged her to show me some, whereupon she brought me some half dozen, and placing them on the table left me to myself. Amongst the books was a volume of poems in Welsh, written by Robert Williams of Betws Fawr, styled in poetic language, Gwilym Du O Eifion. The poems were chiefly on religious subjects. The following lines which I copied from "Pethau a wnaed mewn Gardd," or things written in a garden, appeared to me singularly beautiful:-

"Mewn gardd y cafodd dyn ei dwyllo; Mewn gardd y rhoed oddewid iddo; Mewn gardd bradychwyd Iesu hawddgar; Mewn gardd amdowyd ef mewn daear."

"In a garden the first of our race was deceived; In a garden the promise of grace he received; In a garden was Jesus betrayed to His doom; In a garden His body was laid in the tomb."

Having finished my glass of "summut" and my translation, I called to the woman and asked her what I had to pay.

"Nothing," said she, "if you had had a cup of tea I should have charged sixpence."

"You make no charge," said I, "for what I have had?"

"Nothing, sir, nothing."

"But suppose," said I, "I were to give you something by way of present would you - " and here I stopped. The woman smiled.

"Would you fling it in my face?" said I.

"Oh dear, no, sir," said the woman, smiling more than before.

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