How thankful I am that I live in wiser days.
If such things were going on in the old Monachlog it was high time
to pull it down.
MYSELF. - What kind of a rent do you pay for your land?
FARMER. - Oh, rather a stiffish one.
MYSELF. - Two pounds an acre?
FARMER. - Two pound an acre! I wish I paid no more!
MYSELF. - Well, I think that would be quite enough. In the time of
the old monastery you might have had the land at two shillings an
acre.
FARMER. - Might I? Then those couldn't have been such bad times,
after all.
MYSELF. - I beg your pardon! They were horrible times - times in
which there were monks and friars and graven images, which people
kissed and worshipped and sang pennillion to. Better pay three
pounds an acre and live on crusts and water in the present
enlightened days than pay two shillings an acre and sit down to
beef and ale three times a day in the old superstitious times.
FARMER. - Well, I scarcely know what to say to that.
MYSELF. - What do you call that high hill on the other side of the
river?
FARMER. - I call that hill Bunk Pen Bannedd.
MYSELF. - Is the source of the Teivi far from here?
FARMER. - The head of the Teivi is about two miles from here high
up in the hills.
