Richards, and was published at
Caerlleon, or the city of the legion, the appropriate ancient
British name for the place now called Chester, a legion having been
kept stationed there during the occupation of Britain by the
Romans.
I returned to the inn and dined, and then yearning for society,
descended into the kitchen and had some conversation with the Welsh
maid. She told me that there were a great many Welsh in Chester
from all parts of Wales, but chiefly from Denbighshire and
Flintshire, which latter was her own country. That a great many
children were born in Chester of Welsh parents, and brought up in
the fear of God and love of the Welsh tongue. That there were some
who had never been in Wales, who spoke as good Welsh as herself, or
better. That the Welsh of Chester were of various religious
persuasions; that some were Baptists, some Independents, but that
the greater part were Calvinistic-Methodists; that she herself was
a Calvinistic-Methodist; that the different persuasions had their
different chapels, in which God was prayed to in Welsh; that there
were very few Welsh in Chester who belonged to the Church of
England, and that the Welsh in general do not like Church of
England worship, as I should soon find if I went into Wales.
Late in the evening I directed my steps across the bridge to the
green, where I had discoursed with the Irish itinerants. I wished
to have some more conversation with them respecting their way of
life, and, likewise, as they had so strongly desired it, to give
them a little Christian comfort, for my conscience reproached me
for my abrupt departure on the preceding evening. On arriving at
the green, however, I found them gone, and no traces of them but
the mark of their fire and a little dirty straw. I returned,
disappointed and vexed, to my inn.
Early the next morning I departed from Chester for Llangollen,
distant about twenty miles; I passed over the noble bridge and
proceeded along a broad and excellent road, leading in a direction
almost due south through pleasant meadows. I felt very happy - and
no wonder; the morning was beautiful, the birds sang merrily, and a
sweet smell proceeded from the new-cut hay in the fields, and I was
bound for Wales. I passed over the river Allan and through two
villages called, as I was told, Pulford and Marford, and ascended a
hill; from the top of this hill the view is very fine. To the east
are the high lands of Cheshire, to the west the bold hills of
Wales, and below, on all sides a fair variety of wood and water,
green meads and arable fields.
"You may well look around, Measter," said a waggoner, who, coming
from the direction in which I was bound, stopped to breathe his
team on the top of the hill; "you may well look around - there
isn't such a place to see the country from, far and near, as where
we stand.
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