I soon found the clerk
what his countenance represented him to be, a highly intelligent
person. His answers to my questions were in general ready and
satisfactory.
"This seems rather an ancient edifice," said I; "when was it
built?"
"In the sixteenth century," said the clerk; "in the days of Harry
Tudor."
"Have any remarkable men been clergymen of this church?"
"Several, sir; amongst its vicars was Doctor William Morgan, the
great South Welshman, the author of the old Welsh version of the
Bible, who flourished in the time of Queen Elizabeth. Then there
was Doctor Robert South, an eminent divine, who, though not a
Welshman, spoke and preached Welsh better than many of the native
clergy. Then there was the last vicar, Walter D-, a great preacher
and writer, who styled himself in print Gwalter Mechain."
"Are Morgan and South buried here?" said I.
"They are not, sir," said the clerk; "they had been transferred to
other benefices before they died."
I did not inquire whether Walter D- was buried there, for of him I
had never heard before, but demanded whether the church possessed
any ancient monuments.
"This is the oldest which remains, sir," said the clerk, and he
pointed with his finger to a tablet-stone over a little dark pew on
the right side of the oriel window. There was an inscription upon
it, but owing to the darkness I could not make out a letter. The
clerk, however, read as follows.
1694. 21 Octr.
Hic Sepultus Est
Sidneus Bynner.
"Do you understand Latin?" said I to the clerk.
"I do not, sir; I believe, however, that the stone is to the memory
of one Bynner."
"That is not a Welsh name," said I.
"It is not, sir," said the clerk.
"It seems to be radically the same as Bonner," said I, "the name of
the horrible Popish Bishop of London in Mary's time. Do any people
of the name of Bynner reside in this neighbourhood at present?"
"None, sir," said the clerk; "and if the Bynners are descendants of
Bonner, it is, perhaps, well that there are none."
I made the clerk, who appeared almost fit to be a clergyman, a
small present, and returned to the inn. After paying my bill I
flung my satchel over my shoulder, took my umbrella by the middle
in my right hand, and set off for the Rhyadr.
I entered the narrow glen at the western extremity of the town and
proceeded briskly along. The scenery was romantically beautiful;
on my left was the little brook, the waters of which run through
the town; beyond it a lofty hill; on my right was a hill covered
with wood from the top to the bottom. I enjoyed the scene, and
should have enjoyed it more had there been a little sunshine to
gild it.
