I soon reached Rhiwabon. There was a prodigious noise in the
public-houses as I passed through it. "Colliers carousing," said
I. "Well, I shall not go amongst them to preach temperance, though
perhaps in strict duty I ought." At the end of the town, instead
of taking the road on the left side of the church, I took that on
the right. It was not till I had proceeded nearly a mile that I
began to be apprehensive that I had mistaken the way. Hearing some
people coming towards me on the road I waited till they came up;
they proved to be a man and a woman. On my inquiring whether I was
right for Llangollen, the former told me that I was not, and in
order to get there it was necessary that I should return to
Rhiwabon. I instantly turned round. About half-way back I met a
man who asked me in English where I was hurrying to. I said to
Rhiwabon, in order to get to Llangollen. "Well, then," said he,
"you need not return to Rhiwabon - yonder is a short cut across the
fields," and he pointed to a gate. I thanked him, and said I would
go by it; before leaving him I asked to what place the road led
which I had been following.
"To Pentre Castren," he replied. I struck across the fields and
should probably have tumbled half-a-dozen times over pales and the
like, but for the light of the Cefn furnaces before me which cast
their red glow upon my path. I debauched upon the Llangollen road
near to the tramway leading to the collieries. Two enormous sheets
of flame shot up high into the air from ovens, illumining two
spectral chimneys as high as steeples, also smoky buildings, and
grimy figures moving about. There was a clanging of engines, a
noise of shovels and a falling of coals truly horrible. The glare
was so great that I could distinctly see the minutest lines upon my
hand. Advancing along the tramway I obtained a nearer view of the
hellish buildings, the chimneys, and the demoniac figures. It was
just such a scene as one of those described by Ellis Wynn in his
Vision of Hell. Feeling my eyes scorching I turned away, and
proceeded towards Llangollen, sometimes on the muddy road,
sometimes on the dangerous causeway. For three miles at least I
met nobody. Near Llangollen, as I was walking on the causeway,
three men came swiftly towards me. I kept the hedge, which was my
right; the two first brushed roughly past me, the third came full
upon me and was tumbled into the road. There was a laugh from the
two first and a loud curse from the last as he sprawled in the
mire. I merely said "Nos Da'ki," and passed on, and in about a
quarter of an hour reached home, where I found my wife awaiting me
alone, Henrietta having gone to bed being slightly indisposed. My
wife received me with a cheerful smile. I looked at her and the
good wife of the Triad came to my mind.
"She is modest, void of deceit, and obedient.
"Pure of conscience, gracious of tongue, and true to her husband.
"Her heart not proud, her manners affable, and her bosom full of
compassion for the poor.
"Labouring to be tidy, skilful of hand, and fond of praying to God.
"Her conversation amiable, her dress decent, and her house orderly.
"Quick of hand, quick of eye, and quick of understanding.
"Her person shapely, her manners agreeable, and her heart innocent.
"Her face benignant, her head intelligent, and provident.
"Neighbourly, gentle, and of a liberal way of thinking.
"Able in directing, providing what is wanting, and a good mother to
her children.
"Loving her husband, loving peace, and loving God.
"Happy the man," adds the Triad, "who possesses such a wife." Very
true, O Triad, always provided he is in some degree worthy of her;
but many a man leaves an innocent wife at home for an impure
Jezebel abroad, even as many a one prefers a pint of hog's wash
abroad to a tankard of generous liquor at home.
CHAPTER LXIII
Preparations for Departure - Cat provided for - A Pleasant Party -
Last Night at Llangollen.
I WAS awakened early on the Sunday morning by the howling of wind.
There was a considerable storm throughout the day, but
unaccompanied by rain. I went to church both in the morning and
the evening. The next day there was a great deal of rain. It was
now the latter end of October; winter was coming on, and my wife
and daughter were anxious to return home. After some consultation
it was agreed that they should depart for London, and that I should
join them there after making a pedestrian tour in South Wales.
I should have been loth to quit Wales without visiting the
Deheubarth or Southern Region, a land differing widely, as I had
heard, both in language and customs from Gwynedd or the Northern, a
land which had given birth to the illustrious Ab Gwilym, and where
the great Ryce family had flourished, which very much distinguished
itself in the Wars of the Roses - a member of which Ryce ap Thomas
placed Henry the Seventh on the throne of Britain - a family of
royal extraction, and which after the death of Roderic the Great
for a long time enjoyed the sovereignty of the south.
We set about making the necessary preparations for our respective
journeys. Those for mine were soon made. I bought a small leather
satchel with a lock and key, in which I placed a white linen shirt,
a pair of worsted stockings, a razor and a prayer-book.
