"Yes, I can; that is, a little."
"Why didn't you try to learn to read Welsh?"
"Well, I did; but I could make no hand of it. It's one thing to
speak Welsh and another to read it."
"I can read Welsh much better than I can speak it," said I.
"Ah, you are a gentleman - gentlefolks always find it easier to
learn to read a foreign lingo than to speak it, but it's quite the
contrary with we poor folks."
"One of the most profound truths ever uttered connected with
language," said I to myself. I asked him if there were many Church
of England people in Llandovery.
"A good many," he replied.
"Do you belong to the Church?" said I.
"Yes, I do."
"If this were Sunday I would go to church," said I.
"Oh, if you wish to go to church you can go to-night. This is
Wednesday, and there will be service at half-past six. If you like
I will come for you."
"Pray do," said I; "I should like above all things to go."
Dinner over I sat before the fire occasionally dozing, occasionally
sipping a glass of whiskey-and-water. A little after six the old
fellow made his appearance with a kind of Spanish hat on his head.
We set out; the night was very dark; we went down a long street
seemingly in the direction of the west. "How many churches are
there in Llandovery?" said I to my companion.
"Only one, but you are not going to Llandovery Church, but to that
of Llanfair, in which our clergyman does duty once or twice a
week."
"Is it far?" said I.
"Oh no; just out of the town, only a few steps farther."
We seemed to pass over a bridge and began to ascend a rising
ground. Several people were going in the same direction.
"There," said the old man, "follow with these, and a little farther
up you will come to the church, which stands on the right hand."
He then left me. I went with the rest and soon came to the church.
I went in and was at once conducted by an old man, who I believe
was the sexton, to a large pew close against the southern wall.
The inside of the church was dimly lighted; it was long and narrow,
and the walls were painted with a yellow colour. The pulpit stood
against the northern wall near the altar, and almost opposite to
the pew in which I sat. After a little time the service commenced;
it was in Welsh. When the litanies were concluded the clergyman,
who appeared to be a middle-aged man, and who had rather a fine
voice, began to preach. His sermon was from the 119th Psalm: "Am
hynny hoffais dy gorchymynion yn mwy nag aur:" "Therefore have I
loved thy commandments more than gold." The sermon, which was
extempore, was delivered with great earnestness, and I make no
doubt was a very excellent one, but owing to its being in South
Welsh I did not derive much benefit from it as I otherwise might
have done. When it was over a great many got up and went away.
Observing, however, that not a few remained, I determined upon
remaining too. When everything was quiet the clergyman, descending
from the pulpit, repaired to the vestry, and having taken off his
gown went into a pew, and standing up began a discourse, from which
I learned that there was to be a sacrament on the ensuing Sabbath.
He spoke with much fervency, enlarging upon the high importance of
the holy communion, and exhorting people to come to it in a fit
state of mind. When he had finished a man in a neighbouring pew
got up and spoke about his own unworthiness, saying this and that
about himself, his sins of commission and omission, and dwelling
particularly on his uncharitableness and the malicious pleasure
which he took in the misfortunes of his neighbours. The clergyman
listened attentively, sometimes saying "Ah!" and the congregation
also listened attentively, a voice here and there frequently
saying "Ah." When the man had concluded the clergyman again spoke,
making observations on what he had heard, and hoping that the rest
would be visited with the same contrite spirit as their friend.
Then there was a hymn and we went away.
The moon was shining on high and cast its silvery light on the
tower, the church, some fine trees which surrounded it, and the
congregation going home; a few of the better dressed were talking
to each other in English, but with an accent and pronunciation
which rendered the discourse almost unintelligible to my ears.
I found my way back to my inn and went to bed, after musing awhile
on the concluding scene of which I had been witness in the church.
CHAPTER XCVII
Llandovery - Griffith ap Nicholas - Powerful Enemies - Last Words -
Llandovery Church - Rees Pritchard - The Wiser Creature - God's
better than All - The Old Vicarage.
THE morning of the ninth was very beautiful, with a slight tendency
to frost. I breakfasted, and having no intention of proceeding on
my journey that day, I went to take a leisurely view of Llandovery
and the neighbourhood.
Llandovery is a small but beautiful town, situated amidst fertile
meadows. It is a water-girdled spot, whence its name Llandovery or
Llanymdyfri, which signifies the church surrounded by water. On
its west is the Towey, and on its east the river Bran or Brein,
which descending from certain lofty mountains to the north-east
runs into the Towey a little way below the town. The most striking
object which Llandovery can show is its castle, from which the inn,
which stands near to it, has its name. This castle, majestic
though in ruins, stands on a green mound, the eastern side of which
is washed by the Bran. Little with respect to its history is
known.
