Strolling Along In This Manner I Was Overtaken By An Old Fellow
With A Stick In His Hand, Walking Very Briskly.
He had a crusty
and rather conceited look.
I spoke to him in Welsh, and he
answered in English, saying that I need not trouble myself by
speaking Welsh, as he had plenty of English, and of the very best.
We were from first to last at cross purposes. I asked him about
Rhys Goch and his chair. He told me that he knew nothing of
either, and began to talk of Her Majesty's ministers and the fine
sights of London. I asked him the name of a stream which,
descending a gorge on our right, ran down the side of a valley, to
join the river at its bottom. He told me that he did not know, and
asked me the name of the Queen's eldest daughter. I told him I did
not know, and remarked that it was very odd that he could not tell
me the name of a stream in his own vale. He replied that it was
not a bit more odd than that I could not tell him the name of the
eldest daughter of the Queen of England: I told him that when I
was in Wales I wanted to talk about Welsh matters, and he told me
that when he was with English he wanted to talk about English
matters. I returned to the subject of Rhys Goch and his chair, and
he returned to the subject of Her Majesty's ministers, and the fine
folks of London.
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