priety. He replied that I
must be very different from my countrymen in general, who were ashamed to
be seen walking with any people, who were not, at least, as well-dressed
as themselves. I said that my country-folk in general had a great many
admirable qualities, but at the same time a great many foibles, foremost
amongst which last was a crazy admiration for what they called gentility,
which made them sycophantic to their superiors in station, and extremely
insolent to those whom they considered below them. He said that I had
spoken his very thoughts, and then asked me whether I wished to be taken
the most agreeable walk near Llangollen.
On my replying by all means, he led me along the road to the south-east.
A pleasant road it proved: on our right at some distance was the mighty
Berwyn; close on our left the hill called Pen y Coed. I asked him what
was beyond the Berwyn?
"A very wild country, indeed," he replied, "consisting of wood, rock, and
river; in fact, an anialwch."
He then asked if I knew the meaning of anialwch.
"A wilderness," I replied, "you will find the word in the Welsh Bible."
"Very true, sir," said he, "it was there I met it, but I did not know the
meaning of it, till it was explained to me by one of our teachers."
On my inquiring of what religion he was, he told me he was a
Calvinistic-Methodist.
We passed an ancient building which stood on our right. I turned round
to look at it. Its back was to the road: at its eastern end was a fine
arched window like the oriel window of a church.
"That building," said my companion, "is called Pengwern Hall. It was
once a convent of nuns; a little time ago a farm-house, but is now used
as a barn, and a place of stowage. Till lately it belonged to the Mostyn
family, but they disposed of it, with the farm on which it stood,
together with several other farms, to certain people from Liverpool, who
now live yonder," pointing to a house a little way farther on. I still
looked at the edifice.
"You seem to admire the old building," said my companion.
"I was not admiring it," said I; "I was thinking of the difference
between its present and former state. Formerly it was a place devoted to
gorgeous idolatry and obscene lust; now it is a quiet old barn in which
hay and straw are placed, and broken tumbrels stowed away: surely the
hand of God is visible here?"
"It is so, sir," said the man in a respectful tone, "and so it is in
another place
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