MYSELF. - That is a fine name.
LAD. - It is, sir; I have heard my father say that it was the name
of a king.
MYSELF. - What is your father?
LAD. - A farmer, sir.
MYSELF. - Does he farm his own land?
LAD. - He does not, sir; he is tenant to Mr Price of Hiwlas.
MYSELF. - Do you live far from Bala?
LAD. - Not very far, sir.
MYSELF. - Are you going home now?
LAD. - I am not, sir; our home is on the other side of Bala. I am
going to see a relation up the road.
MYSELF. - Bala is a nice place.
LAD. - It is, sir; but not so fine as old Bala.
MYSELF. - I never heard of such a place. Where is it?
LAD. - Under the lake, sir.
MYSELF. - What do you mean?
LAD. - It stood in the old time where the lake now is, and a fine
city it was, full of fine houses, towers, and castles, but with
neither church nor chapel, for the people neither knew God nor
cared for Him, and thought of nothing but singing and dancing and
other wicked things. So God was angry with them, and one night,
when they were all busy at singing and dancing and the like, God
gave the word, and the city sank down into Unknown, and the lake
boiled up where it once stood.
MYSELF. - That was a long time ago.
LAD. - In truth, sir, it was.
