He Was About Fifty Years Of Age, With A Carbuncled
Countenance, High But Narrow Forehead, Grey Eyebrows, And Small,
Malignant Grey Eyes.
He had a white hat, with narrow eaves and the
crown partly knocked out, a torn blue coat, corduroy breeches, long
stockings and highlows.
He was sucking a cutty pipe, but seemed
unable to extract any smoke from it. He had all the appearance of
a vagabond, and of a rather dangerous vagabond. I nodded to him,
and asked him in Welsh the name of the place. He glared at me
malignantly, then, taking the pipe out of his mouth, said that he
did not know, that he had been down below to inquire and light his
pipe, but could get neither light nor answer from the children. I
asked him where he came from, but he evaded the question by asking
where I was going to.
"To the Pont y Gwr Drwg," said I.
He then asked me if I was an Englishman.
"Oh yes," said I, "I am Carn Sais;" whereupon, with a strange
mixture in his face of malignity and contempt, he answered in
English that he didn't understand me.
"You understood me very well," said I, without changing my
language, "till I told you I was an Englishman. Harkee, man with
the broken hat, you are one of the bad Welsh who don't like the
English to know the language, lest they should discover your lies
and rogueries." He evidently understood what I said, for he
gnashed his teeth, though he said nothing.
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