AWAKING occasionally in the night I heard much storm and rain. The
following morning it was gloomy and lowering. As it was Sunday I
determined to pass the day at Bala, and accordingly took my Prayer
Book out of my satchel, and also my single white shirt, which I put
on.
Having dressed myself I went to the coffee-room and sat down to
breakfast. What a breakfast! - pot of hare; ditto of trout; pot of
prepared shrimps; dish of plain shrimps; tin of sardines; beautiful
beef-steak; eggs, muffin; large loaf, and butter, not forgetting
capital tea. There's a breakfast for you!
As the little freckled maid was removing the breakfast things I
asked her how old she was.
"Eighteen, sir, last Candlemas," said the freckled maid.
"Are your parents alive?"
"My mother is, sir, but my father is dead."
"What was your father?"
"He was an Irishman, sir! and boots to this inn."
"Is your mother Irish?"
"No, sir, she is of this place; my father married her shortly after
he came here."
"Of what religion are you?"
"Church, sir, Church."
"Was your father of the Church?"
"Not always, sir; he was once what is called a Catholic. He turned
to the Church after he came here."
"A'n't there a great many Methodists in Bala?"
"Plenty, sir, plenty."
"How came your father not to go over to the Methodists instead of
the Church?"
"'Cause he didn't like them, sir; he used to say they were a
trumpery, cheating set; that they wouldn't swear, but would lie
through a three-inch board."
"I suppose your mother is a Church-woman?"
"She is now, sir; but before she knew my father she was a
Methodist."
"Of what religion is the master of the house?"
"Church, sir, Church; so is all the family."
"Who is the clergyman of the place?"
"Mr Pugh, sir!"
"Is he a good preacher?"
"Capital, sir!
