"To a certain extent," said I; "but my chief object in visiting
Anglesey was to view the birth-place of Gronwy Owen; I saw it
yesterday, and am now going to Holyhead chiefly with a view to see
the country."
"And how came you, an Englishman, to know anything of Gronwy Owen?"
"I studied Welsh literature when young," said I, "and was much
struck with the verses of Gronwy: he was one of the great bards of
Wales, and certainly the most illustrious genius that Anglesey ever
produced."
"A great genius, I admit," said the man in grey, "but pardon me,
not exactly the greatest Ynis Fon has produced. The race of the
bards is not quite extinct in the island, sir. I could name one or
two - however, I leave others to do so - but I assure you the race
of bards is not quite extinct here."
"I am delighted to hear you say so," said I, "and make no doubt
that you speak correctly, for the Red Bard has said that Mona is
never to be without a poet - but where am I to find one? just
before I saw you I was wishing to see a poet; I would willingly
give a quart of ale to see a genuine Anglesey poet."
"You would, sir, would you?" said the man in grey, lifting his head
on high, and curling his upper lip.
"I would, indeed," said I, "my greatest desire at present is to see
an Anglesey poet, but where am I to find one?"
"Where is he to find one?" said he of the tattered hat; "where's
the gwr boneddig to find a prydydd? No occasion to go far, he,
he, he."
"Well" said I, "but where is he?"
"Where is he? why, there," said he, pointing to the man in grey -
"the greatest prydydd in tir Fon or the whole world."
"Tut, tut, hold your tongue," said the man in grey.
"Hold my tongue, myn Diawl, not I - I speak the truth," then
filling his glass he emptied it exclaiming, "I'll not hold, my
tongue. The greatest prydydd in the whole world."
"Then I have the honour to be seated with a bard of Anglesey?" said
I, addressing the man in grey.
"Tut, tut," said he of the grey suit.
"The greatest prydydd in the whole world," iterated he of the
bulged shoe, with a slight hiccup, as he again filled his glass.
"Then," said I, "I am truly fortunate."
"Sir," said the man in grey, "I had no intention of discovering
myself, but as my friend here has betrayed my secret, I confess
that I am a bard of Anglesey - my friend is an excellent individual
but indiscreet, highly indiscreet, as I have frequently told him,"
and here he looked most benignantly reproachful at him of the
tattered hat.
"The greatest prydydd," said the latter, "the greatest prydydd that
- " and leaving his sentence incomplete he drank off the ale which
he had poured into his glass.
"Well," said I, "I cannot sufficiently congratulate myself for
having met an Anglesey bard - no doubt a graduate one. Anglesey,
was always famous for graduate bards, for what says Black Robin?
"'Though Arvon graduate bards can boast,
Yet more canst thou, O Anglesey.'"
"I suppose by graduate bard you mean one who has gained the chair
at an eisteddfod?" said the man in grey. "No, I have never gained
the silver chair - I have never had an opportunity. I have been
kept out of the eisteddfodau. There is such a thing as envy, sir -
but there is one comfort, that envy will not always prevail."
"No," said I; "envy will not always prevail - envious scoundrels
may chuckle for a time at the seemingly complete success of the
dastardly arts to which they have recourse, in order to crush merit
- but Providence is not asleep. All of a sudden they see their
supposed victim on a pinnacle far above their reach. Then there is
weeping, and gnashing of teeth with a vengeance, and the long,
melancholy howl. Oh, there is nothing in this world which gives
one so perfect an idea of retribution as the long melancholy howl
of the disappointed envious scoundrel when he sees his supposed
victim smiling on an altitude far above his reach."
"Sir," said the man in grey, "I am delighted to hear you. Give me
your hand, your honourable hand. Sir, you have now felt the hand-
grasp of a Welshman, to say nothing of an Anglesey bard, and I have
felt that of a Briton, perhaps a bard, a brother, sir? Oh, when I
first saw your face out there in the dyffryn, I at once recognised
in it that of a kindred spirit, and I felt compelled to ask you to
drink. Drink, sir! but how is this? the jug is empty - how is
this? - Oh, I see - my friend sir, though an excellent individual,
is indiscreet, sir - very indiscreet. Landlord, bring this moment
another jug of ale!"
"The greatest prydydd," stuttered he of bulged shoe - "the greatest
prydydd - Oh - "
"Tut, tut," said the man in grey.
"I speak the truth and care for no one," said he of the tattered
hat. "I say the greatest prydydd. If any one wishes to gainsay me
let him show his face and Myn Diawl - "
The landlord brought the ale, placed it on the table, and then
stood as if waiting for something.
"I suppose you are waiting to be paid," said I; "what is your
demand?"
"Sixpence for this jug, and sixpence for the other," said the
landlord.
I took out a shilling and said: "It is but right that I should pay
half of the reckoning, and as the whole affair is merely a shilling
matter, I should feel obliged in being permitted to pay the whole,
so, landlord, take the shilling and remember you are paid." I then
delivered the shilling to the landlord, but had no sooner done so
than the man in grey, starting up in violent agitation, wrested the
money from the other, and flung it down on the table before me
saying:-
"No, no, that will never do.
