Kindly ground,
Its meads and farms, where mead is found,
A land whose commons live content,
Where each man's lot is excellent,
Where hosts to hail thee shall upstand,
Where lads are bold and lasses bland,
A land I oft from hill that's high
Have gazed upon with raptur'd eye;
Where maids are trained in virtue's school,
Where duteous wives spin dainty wool;
A country with each gift supplied,
Confronting Cornwall's cliffs of pride."
Came to Llanguick, a hamlet situated near a tremendous gorge, the
sides of which were covered with wood. Thence to the village of
Tawy Bridge, at the bottom of a beautiful valley, through which
runs the Tawy, which, after the Taf, is the most considerable river
in Glamorganshire. Continuing my course, I passed by an enormous
edifice which stood on my right hand. It had huge chimneys, which
were casting forth smoke, and from within I heard the noise of a
steam-engine and the roar of furnaces.
"What place is this?" said, I to a boy.
"Gwaith haiarn, sir; ym perthyn i Mr Pearson. Mr Pearson's iron
works, sir."
I proceeded, and in about half-an-hour saw a man walking before me
in the same direction in which I was. He was going very briskly,
but I soon came up to him. He was a small, well-made fellow, with
reddish hair and ruddy, determined countenance, somewhat tanned.
He wore a straw hat, checkered shirt, open at the neck, canvas
trousers and blue jacket. On his feet were shoes remarkably thin,
but no stockings, and in his hand he held a stout stick, with
which, just before I overtook him, he struck a round stone which
lay on the ground, sending it flying at least fifty yards before
him on the road, and following it in its flight with a wild and
somewhat startling halloo.
"Good-day, my friend," said I; "you seem to be able to use a
stick."
"And sure I ought to be, your honour, seeing as how my father
taught me, who was the best fighting man with a stick that the
Shanavests ever had. Many is the head of a Caravaut that he has
broken with some such an Alpeen wattle as the one I am carrying
with me here."
"A good thing," said I, "that there are no Old Waist-coats and
Cravats at present, at least bloody factions bearing those names."
"Your honour thinks so! Faith! I am clane of a contrary opinion.
I wish the ould Shanavests and Caravauts were fighting still, and I
among them. Faith! there was some life in Ireland in their days."
"And plenty of death too," said I. "How fortunate it is that the
Irish have the English among them to prevent their cutting each
other's throats."
"The English prevent the Irish from cutting each other's throats!
Well, if they do, it is only that they may have the pleasure of
cutting them themselves. The bloody tyrants! too long has their
foot been upon the neck of poor old Ireland."
"How do the English tyrannise over Ireland?"
"How do they tyrannise over her? Don't they prevent her from
having the free exercise of her Catholic religion, and make her
help to support their own Protestant one?"
"Well, and don't the Roman Catholics prevent the Protestants from
having the free exercise of their religion, whenever they happen to
be the most numerous, and don't they make them help to support the
Roman Catholic religion?"
"Of course they do, and quite right! Had I my will, there
shouldn't be a place of Protestant worship left standing, or a
Protestant churl allowed to go about with a head unbroken."
"Then why do you blame the Protestants for keeping the Romans a
little under?"
"Why do I blame them? A purty question! Why, an't they wrong, and
an't we right?"
"But they say that they are right and you wrong."
"They say! who minds what they say? Haven't we the word of the
blessed Pope that we are right?"
"And they say that they have the word of the blessed Gospel that
you are wrong."
"The Gospel! who cares for the Gospel? Surely you are not going to
compare the Gospel with the Pope?"
"Well, they certainly are not to be named in the same day."
"They are not? Then good luck to you! We are both of the same
opinion. Ah, I thought your honour was a rale Catholic. Now, tell
me from what kingdom of Ireland does your honour hail?"
"Why, I was partly educated in Munster."
"In Munster! Hoorah! Here's the hand of a countryman to your
honour. Ah, it was asy to be seen from the learning, which your
honour shows, that your honour is from Munster. There's no spot in
Ireland like Munster for learning. What says the old song?
"'Ulster for a soldier,
Connaught for a thief,
Munster for learning,
And Leinster for beef.'
"Hoorah for learned Munster! and down with beggarly, thievish
Connaught! I would that a Connaught man would come athwart me now,
that I might break his thief's head with my Alpeen."
"You don't seem to like the Connaught men," said I.
"Like them! who can like them? a parcel of beggarly thievish
blackguards. So your honour was edicated in Munster - I mane
partly edicated. I suppose by your saying that you were partly
edicated, that your honour was intended for the clerical
profession, but being over fond of the drop was forced to lave
college before your edication was quite completed, and so for want
of a better profession took up with that of merchandise. Ah, the
love of the drop at college has prevented many a clever young
fellow from taking holy orders. Well, it's a pity but it can't be
helped.
