said, in English, ‘We hoped to have heard you speak to-night, Peter, but we cannot expect that now, seeing that it is so late, owing to your having been detained by the way, as Winifred tells me; nothing remains for you to do now but to sup - to-morrow, with God’s will, we shall hear you.’ ‘And to-night, also, with God’s will, provided you be so disposed. Let those of your family come hither.’ ‘They will be hither presently,’ said Mary, ‘for knowing that thou art arrived, they will, of course, come and bid thee welcome.’ And scarcely had she spoke, when I beheld a party of people descending the moonlit side of the hill. They soon arrived at the place where we were; they might amount in all to twelve individuals. The principal person was a tall, athletic man, of about forty, dressed like a plain country farmer; this was, I soon found, the husband of Mary; the rest of the group consisted of the children of these two, and their domestic servants. One after another they all shook Peter by the hand, men and women, boys and girls, and expressed their joy at seeing him. After which he said, ‘Now, friends, if you please, I will speak a few words to you.’ A stool was then brought him from the cart, which he stepped on, and the people arranging themselves round him, some standing, some seated on the ground, he forthwith began to address them in a clear, distinct voice; and the subject of his discourse was the necessity, in all human beings, of a change of heart.

The preacher was better than his promise, for, instead of speaking a few words, he preached for at least three-quarters of an hour; none of the audience, however, showed the slightest symptom of weariness; on the contrary, the hope of each individual appeared to hang upon the words which proceeded from his mouth. At the conclusion of the sermon or discourse the whole assembly again shook Peter by the hand, and returned to their house, the mistress of the family saying, as she departed, ‘I shall soon be back, Peter; I go but to make arrangements for the supper of thyself and company’; and, in effect, she presently returned, attended by a young woman, who bore a tray in her hands. ‘Set it down, Jessy,’ said the mistress to the girl, ‘and then betake thyself to thy rest, I shall remain here for a little time to talk with my friends.’ The girl departed, and the preacher and the two females placed themselves on the ground about the tray. The man gave thanks, and himself and his wife appeared to be about to eat, when the latter suddenly placed her hand upon his arm, and said something to him in a low voice, whereupon he exclaimed, ‘Ay, truly, we were both forgetful’; and then getting up, he came towards me, who stood a little way off, leaning against the wheel of my cart; and, taking me by the hand, he said, ‘Pardon us, young man, we were both so engaged in our own creature-comforts, that we forgot thee, but it is not too late to repair our fault; wilt thou not join us, and taste our bread and milk?’ ‘I cannot eat,’ I replied, ‘but I think I could drink a little milk’; whereupon he led me to the rest, and seating me by his side, he poured some milk into a horn cup, saying, ‘"Croesaw." That,’ added he, with a smile, ‘is Welsh for welcome.’

The fare upon the tray was of the simplest description, consisting of bread, cheese, milk, and curds. My two friends partook with a good appetite. ‘Mary,’ said the preacher, addressing himself to the woman of the house, ‘every time I come to visit thee, I find thee less inclined to speak Welsh. I suppose, in a little time, thou wilt entirely have forgotten it; hast thou taught it to any of thy children?’ ‘The two eldest understand a few words,’ said the woman, ‘but my husband does not wish them to learn it; he says sometimes, jocularly, that though it pleased him to marry a Welsh wife, it does not please him to have Welsh children. Who, I have heard him say, would be a Welshman, if he could be an Englishman?’ ‘I for one,’ said the preacher, somewhat hastily; ‘not to be king of all England would I give up my birthright as a Welshman. Your husband is an excellent person, Mary, but I am afraid he is somewhat prejudiced.’ ‘You do him justice, Peter, in saying that he is an excellent person,’ sail the woman; ‘as to being prejudiced, I scarcely know what to say, but he thinks that two languages in the same kingdom are almost as bad as two kings.’ ‘That’s no bad observation,’ said the preacher, ‘and it is generally the case; yet, thank God, the Welsh and English go on very well, side by side, and I hope will do so till the Almighty calls all men to their long account.’ ‘They jog on very well now,’ said the woman; ‘but I have heard my husband say that it was not always so, and that the Welsh, in old times, were a violent and ferocious people, for that once they hanged the mayor of Chester.’ ‘Ha, ha!’ said the preacher, and his eyes flashed in the moonlight; ‘he told you that, did he?’ ‘Yes,’ said Mary; ‘once, when the mayor of Chester, with some of his people, was present at one of the fairs over the border, a quarrel arose between the Welsh and the English, and the Welsh beat the English, and hanged the mayor.’ ‘Your husband is a clever man,’ said Peter, ‘and knows a great deal; did he tell you the name of the leader of the Welsh? No! then I will: the leader of