Tom Jenkins - Ale of Bala - Sober Moments - Local Prejudices - The States - Unprejudiced Man - Welsh Pensilvanian Settlers - Drapery Line - Evening Saunter.
SCARCELY had I entered the door of the inn when a man presented himself to me with a low bow. He was about fifty years of age, somewhat above the middle size, and had grizzly hair and a dark, freckled countenance, in which methought I saw a considerable dash of humour. He wore brown clothes, had no hat on his head, and held a napkin in his hand. "Are you the master of this hotel?" said I.
"No, your honour," he replied, "I am only the waiter, but Iofficiate for my master in all things; my master has great confidence in me, sir.""And I have no doubt," said I, "that he could not place his confidence in any one more worthy."With a bow yet lower than the preceding one the waiter replied with a smirk and a grimace, "Thanks, your honour, for your good opinion.
I assure your honour that I am deeply obliged."His air, manner, and even accent, were so like those of a Frenchman, that I could not forbear asking him whether he was one.
He shook his head and replied, "No, your honour, no, I am not a Frenchman, but a native of this poor country, Tom Jenkins by name.""Well," said I, "you really look and speak like a Frenchman, but no wonder; the Welsh and French are much of the same blood. Please now to show me into the parlour."He opened the door of a large apartment, placed a chair by a table which stood in the middle, and then, with another bow, requested to know my farther pleasure. After ordering dinner I said that as Iwas thirsty I should like to have some ale forthwith.
"Ale you shall have, your honour," said Tom, "and some of the best ale that can be drunk. This house is famous for ale.""I suppose you get your ale from Llangollen," said I, "which is celebrated for its ale over Wales.""Get our ale from Llangollen?" said Tom, with sneer of contempt, "no, nor anything else. As for the ale it was brewed in this house by your honour's humble servant.""Oh," said I, "if you brewed it, it must of course be good. Pray bring me some immediately, for I am anxious to drink ale of your brewing.""Your honour shall be obeyed," said Tom, and disappearing returned in a twinkling with a tray on which stood a jug filled with liquor and a glass. He forthwith filled the glass, and pointing to its contents said:
"There, your honour, did you ever see such ale? Observe its colour! Does it not look for all the world as pale and delicate as cowslip wine?""I wish it may not taste like cowslip wine," said I; "to tell you the truth, I am no particular admirer of ale that looks pale and delicate; for I always think there is no strength in it.""Taste it, your honour," said Tom, "and tell me if you ever tasted such ale."I tasted it, and then took a copious draught. The ale was indeed admirable, equal to the best that I had ever before drunk - rich and mellow, with scarcely any smack of the hop in it, and though so pale and delicate to the eye nearly as strong as brandy. Icommended it highly to the worthy Jenkins, who exultingly exclaimed:
"That Llangollen ale indeed! no, no! ale like that, your honour, was never brewed in that trumpery hole Llangollen.""You seem to have a very low opinion of Llangollen?" said I.
"How can I have anything but a low opinion of it, your honour? Atrumpery hole it is, and ever will remain so.""Many people of the first quality go to visit it," said I.
"That is because it lies so handy for England, your honour. If it did not, nobody would go to see it. What is there to see in Llangollen?""There is not much to see in the town, I admit," said I, "but the scenery about it is beautiful: what mountains!""Mountains, your honour, mountains! well, we have mountains too, and as beautiful as those of Llangollen. Then we have our lake, our Llyn Tegid, the lake of beauty. Show me anything like that near Llangollen?""Then," said I, "there is your mound, your Tomen Bala. The Llangollen people can show nothing like that."Tom Jenkins looked at me for a moment with some surprise, and then said: "I see you have been here before, sir.""No," said I, "never, but I have read about the Tomen Bala in books, both Welsh and English.""You have, sir," said Tom. "Well, I am rejoiced to see so book-learned a gentleman in our house. The Tomen Bala has puzzled many a head. What do the books which mention it say about it, your honour?""Very little," said I, "beyond mentioning it; what do the people here say of it?""All kinds of strange things, your honour.""Do they say who built it?"
"Some say the Tylwyth Teg built it, others that it was cast up over a dead king by his people. The truth is, nobody here knows who built it, or anything about it, save that it is a wonder. Ah, those people of Llangollen can show nothing like it.""Come," said I, "you must not be so hard upon the people of Llangollen. They appear to me upon the whole to be an eminently respectable body."The Celtic waiter gave a genuine French shrug. "Excuse me, your honour, for being of a different opinion. They are all drunkards.""I have occasionally seen drunken people at Llangollen," said I, "but I have likewise seen a great many sober.""That is, your honour, you have seen them in their sober moments;but if you had watched, your honour, if you had kept your eye on them, you would have seen them reeling too.""That I can hardly believe," said I.
"Your honour can't! but I can who know them. They are all drunkards, and nobody can live among them without being a drunkard.
There was my nephew - "
"What of him?" said I.
