of the same, if he had remained at
home?"

"No, your honour, no! he lived here many a year, and never died of a
drunken fever; he was rather fond of liquor, it is true, but he never
died at Bala of a drunken fever; but when he went to Llangollen he did.
Now, your honour, if there is not something more drunken about Llangollen
than about Bala, why did my nephew die at Llangollen of a drunken fever?"

"Really," said I, "you are such a close reasoner, that I do not like to
dispute with you. One observation however, I wish to make: I have lived
at Llangollen, without, I hope, becoming a drunkard."

"Oh, your honour is out of the question," said the Celtic waiter with a
strange grimace. "Your honour is an Englishman, an English gentleman,
and of course could live all the days of your life at Llangollen without
being a drunkard, he, he! Who ever heard of an Englishman, especially an
English gentleman, being a drunkard, he, he, he. And now, your honour,
pray excuse me, for I must go and see that your honour's dinner is being
got ready in a suitable manner."

Thereupon he left me with a bow yet lower than any I had previously seen
him make. If his manners put me in mind of those of a Frenchman, his
local prejudices brought powerfully to my recollection those of a
Spaniard. Tom Jenkins swears by Bala and abuses Llangollen, and calls
its people drunkards, just as a Spaniard exalts his own village and
vituperates the next and its inhabitants, whom, though he will not call
them drunkards, unless indeed he happens to be a Gallegan, he will not
hesitate to term "una caterva de pillos y embusteros."

The dinner when it appeared was excellent, and consisted of many more
articles than I had ordered. After dinner, as I sat "trifling" with my
cold brandy and water, an individual entered, a short thick dumpy man
about thirty, with brown clothes and a broad hat, and holding in his hand
a large leather bag. He gave me a familiar nod, and passing by the table
at which I sat, to one near the window, he flung the bag upon it, and
seating himself in a chair with his profile towards me, he untied the
bag, from which he poured a large quantity of sovereigns upon the table
and fell to counting them. After counting them three times he placed
them again in the bag which he tied up, then taking a small book,
seemingly an account-book, out of his pocket, he wrote something in it
with a pencil, then putting it in his pocket he took the bag