It Is A
Stirring Bustling Place, Of Much Traffic, And Of Several Thousand
Inhabitants.
Its most remarkable object is its church, which
stands at the south-western side.
To this church, after wandering
for some time about the streets, I repaired. The tower is
quadrangular, and is at least one hundred feet high; it has on its
summit four little turrets, one at each corner, between each of
which are three spirelets, the middlemost of the three the highest.
The nave of the church is to the east; it is of two stories, both
crenulated at the top. I wished to see the interior of the church,
but found the gate locked. Observing a group of idlers close at
hand with their backs against a wall, I went up to them, and,
addressing myself to one, inquired whether I could see the church.
"Oh yes, sir," said the man; "the clerk who has the key lives close
at hand; one of us shall go and fetch him - by-the-bye, I may as
well go myself." He moved slowly away. He was a large bulky man
of about the middle age, and his companions were about the same age
and size as himself. I asked them if they were Welsh. "Yes, sir,"
said one, "I suppose we are, for they call us Welsh." I asked if
any of them could speak Welsh. "No, sir," said the man, "all the
Welsh that any of us know, or indeed wish to know, is 'Cwrw da.'"
Here there was a general laugh.
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