WOMAN. - Oh yes, sir, the Welsh have plenty of friends both in life
and death.
MYSELF. - A'n't you Welsh, then?
WOMAN. - Oh no, sir, I am English, like yourself, as I suppose.
MYSELF. - Yes, I am English. What part of England do you come
from?
WOMAN. - Shropshire, sir.
MYSELF. - Is that little child yours?
WOMAN. - Yes, sir, it is my husband's child and mine.
MYSELF. - I suppose your husband is Welsh.
WOMAN. - Oh no, sir, we are all English.
MYSELF. - And what is your husband?
WOMAN. - A little farmer, sir, he farms about forty acres under Mrs
-.
MYSELF. - Well, are you comfortable here?
WOMAN. - Oh dear me, no, sir, we are anything but comfortable.
Here we are three poor lone creatures in a strange land, without a
soul to speak to but one another. Every day of our lives we wish
we had never left Shropshire.
MYSELF. - Why don't you make friends amongst your neighbours?
WOMAN. - Oh, sir, the English cannot make friends amongst the
Welsh. The Welsh won't neighbour with them, or have anything to do
with them, except now and then in the way of business.
MYSELF. - I have occasionally found the Welsh very civil.
WOMAN. - Oh yes, sir, they can be civil enough to passers-by,
especially those who they think want nothing from them - but if you
came and settled amongst them you would find them, I'm afraid,
quite the contrary.
MYSELF. - Would they be uncivil to me if I could speak Welsh?
WOMAN. - Most particularly, sir; the Welsh don't like any
strangers, but least of all those who speak their language.
MYSELF. - Have you picked up anything of their language?
WOMAN. - Not a word, sir, nor my husband neither. They take good
care that we shouldn't pick up a word of their language. I stood
the other day and listened whilst two women were talking just where
you stand now, in the hope of catching a word, and as soon as they
saw me they passed to the other side of the bridge, and began
buzzing there. My poor husband took it into his head that he might
possibly learn a word or two at the public-house, so he went there,
called for a jug of ale and a pipe, and tried to make himself at
home just as he might in England, but it wouldn't do. The company
instantly left off talking to one another and stared at him, and
before he could finish his pot and pipe took themselves off to a
man, and then came the landlord, and asked him what he meant by
frightening away his customers. So my poor husband came home as
pale as a sheet, and sitting down in a chair said, "Lord, have
mercy upon me!"
MYSELF. - Why are the Welsh afraid that strangers should pick up
their language?
