"Good evening," said I to him in Welsh.
"Good evening, gentleman," said he in the same language.
"Have you much English?" said I.
"Very little; I can only speak a few words."
"Are you the farmer?"
"Yes! I farm the greater part of the Strath."
"I suppose the land is very good here?"
"Why do you suppose so?"
"Because the monks built their house here in the old time, and the
monks never built their houses except on good land."
"Well, I must say the land is good; indeed I do not think there is
any so good in Shire Aberteifi."
"I suppose you are surprised to see me here; I came to see the old
Monachlog."
"Yes, gentleman; I saw you looking about it."
"Am I welcome to see it?"
"Croesaw! gwr boneddig, croesaw! many, many welcomes to you,
gentleman!"
"Do many people come to see the monastery?"
FARMER. - Yes! many gentlefolks come to see it in the summer time.
MYSELF. - It is a poor place now.
FARMER. - Very poor, I wonder any gentlefolks come to look at it.
MYSELF. - It was a wonderful place once; you merely see the ruins
of it now. It was pulled down at the Reformation.
FARMER. - Why was it pulled down then?
MYSELF. - Because it was a house of idolatry to which people used
to resort by hundreds to worship images. Had you lived at that
time you would have seen people down on their knees before stocks
and stones, worshipping them, kissing them, and repeating
pennillion to them.
FARMER. - What fools! How thankful I am that I live in wiser days.
If such things were going on in the old Monachlog it was high time
to pull it down.
MYSELF. - What kind of a rent do you pay for your land?
FARMER. - Oh, rather a stiffish one.
MYSELF. - Two pounds an acre?
FARMER. - Two pound an acre! I wish I paid no more!
MYSELF. - Well, I think that would be quite enough. In the time of
the old monastery you might have had the land at two shillings an
acre.
FARMER. - Might I? Then those couldn't have been such bad times,
after all.
MYSELF. - I beg your pardon! They were horrible times - times in
which there were monks and friars and graven images, which people
kissed and worshipped and sang pennillion to. Better pay three
pounds an acre and live on crusts and water in the present
enlightened days than pay two shillings an acre and sit down to
beef and ale three times a day in the old superstitious times.
FARMER. - Well, I scarcely know what to say to that.
MYSELF. - What do you call that high hill on the other side of the
river?
FARMER. - I call that hill Bunk Pen Bannedd.
MYSELF. - Is the source of the Teivi far from here?
