"Here I Have Had," Said I To Myself, As I Proceeded On My Way, "To
Pay For The Over-Praise Which I Lately Received.
The farmer on the
other side of the mountain called me a person of great
intelligence, which I never pretended to be, and now this collier
calls me a low, illiterate fellow, which I really don't think I am.
There is certainly a Nemesis mixed up with the affairs of this
world; every good thing which you get, beyond what is strictly your
due, is sure to be required from you with a vengeance. A little
over-praise by a great deal of underrating - a gleam of good
fortune by a night of misery."
I now saw Wrexham Church at about the distance of three miles, and
presently entered a lane which led gently down from the hills,
which were the same heights I had seen on my right hand, some
months previously, on my way from Wrexham to Rhiwabon. The scenery
now became very pretty - hedge-rows were on either side, a
luxuriance of trees and plenty of green fields. I reached the
bottom of the lane, beyond which I saw a strange-looking house upon
a slope on the right hand. It was very large, ruinous, and
seemingly deserted. A little beyond it was a farm-house, connected
with which was a long row of farming buildings along the road-side.
Seeing a woman seated knitting at the door of a little cottage, I
asked her in English the name of the old, ruinous house?
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