One of the most tremendous conflicts
recorded in history or poetry."
"Dear me," said the old reaper; "and whom may it have been between?
the French and English, I suppose."
"No," said I; "it was fought between one of your Welsh kings, the
great Owain Gwynedd, and certain northern and Irish enemies of
his."
"Only think," said the old man, "and it was a fierce battle, sir?"
"It was, indeed," said I; "according to the words of a poet, who
described it, the Menai could not ebb on account of the torrent of
blood which flowed into it, slaughter was heaped upon slaughter,
shout followed shout, and around Moelfre a thousand war flags
waved."
"Well, sir," said the old man, "I never before heard anything about
it, indeed I don't trouble my head with histories, unless they be
Bible histories."
"Are you a Churchman?" said I.
"No," said the old man, shortly; "I am a Methodist."
"I belong to the Church," said I.
"So I should have guessed, sir, by your being so well acquainted
with pennillion and histories. Ah, the Church. . . . ."
"This is dreadfully hot weather, said I, "and I should like to
offer you sixpence for ale, but as I am a Churchman I suppose you
would not accept it from my hands."
"The Lord forbid, sir," said the old man, "that I should be so
uncharitable!
