"So it is, Mr. Oh, that is your State, is it? I come from Varmont.""You do, do you? Well, Varmont is not a bad state, but not equal to Pensilvany, and I'll tell you two reasons why; first it has not been so long settled, and second there is not so much Welsh blood in it as there is in Pensilvany.""Is there much Welsh blood in Pensilvany then?""Plenty, Mr, plenty. Welsh flocked over to Pensilvany even as far back as the time of William Pen, who as you know, Mr, was the first founder of the Pensilvany State. And that puts me in mind that there is a curious account extant of the adventures of one of the old Welsh settlers in Pensilvania. It is to be found in a letter in an old Welsh book. The letter is dated 1705, and is from one Huw Jones, born of Welsh parents in Pensilvany country, to a cousin of his of the same name residing in the neighbourhood of this very town of Bala in Merionethshire, where you and I, Mr, now are. It is in answer to certain inquiries made by the cousin, and is written in pure old Welsh language. It gives an account of how the writer's father left this neighbourhood to go to Pensilvania; how he embarked on board the ship WILLIAM PEN; how he was thirty weeks on the voyage from the Thames to the Delaware. Only think, Mr, of a ship now-a-days being thirty weeks on the passage from the Thames to the Delaware river; how he learnt the English language on the voyage; how he and his companions nearly perished with hunger in the wild wood after they landed; how Pensilvania city was built;how he became a farmer and married a Welsh woman, the widow of a Welshman from shire Denbigh, by whom he had the writer and several other children; how the father used to talk to his children about his native region and the places round about Bala, and fill their breasts with longing for the land of their fathers; and finally how the old man died leaving his children and their mother in prosperous circumstances. It is a wonderful letter, Mr, all written in the pure old Welsh language.""I say, Mr, you are a cute one and know a thing or two. I suppose Welsh was the first language you learnt, like myself?""No, it wasn't - I like to speak the truth - never took to either speaking or reading the Welsh language till I was past sixteen.""'Stonishing! but see the force of blood at last. In any line of business?""No, Mr, can't say I am."
"Have money in your pocket, and travel for pleasure. Come to see father's land.""Come to see old Wales. And what brings you here, Hiraeth?""That's longing. No, not exactly. Came over to England to see what I could do. Got in with house at Liverpool in the drapery business. Travel for it hereabouts, having connections and speaking the language. Do branch business here for a banking-house besides. Manage to get on smartly.""You look a smart 'un. But don't you find it sometimes hard to compete with English travellers in the drapery line?""I guess not. English travellers! set of nat'rals. Don't know the language and nothing else. Could whip a dozen any day. Regularly flummox them.""You do, Mr? Ah, I see you're a cute 'un. Glad to have met you.""I say, Mr, you have not told me from what county your forefathers were.""From Norfolk and Cornwall counties."
"Didn't know there were such counties in Wales.""But there are in England."
"Why, you told me you were of Welsh parents.""No, I didn't. You told yourself so."
"But how did you come to know Welsh?"
"Why, that's my bit of a secret."
"But you are of the United States?"
"Never knew that before."
"Mr, you flummox me."
"Just as you do the English drapery travellers. Ah, you're a cute 'un - but do you think it altogether a cute trick to stow all those sovereigns in that drawer?""Who should take them out, Mr?"
"Who should take them out? Why, any of the swell mob that should chance to be in the house might unlock the drawer with their flash keys as soon as your back is turned, and take out all the coin.""But there are none of the swell mob here.""How do you know, that?" said I, "the swell mob travel wide about -how do you know that I am not one of them?""The swell mob don't speak Welsh, I guess.""Don't be too sure of that," said I - "the swell coves spare no expense for their education - so that they may be able to play parts according to circumstances. I strongly advise you, Mr, to put that bag somewhere else lest something should happen to it.""Well, Mr, I'll take your advice. These are my quarters, and I was merely going to keep the money here for convenience' sake. The money belongs to the bank, so it is but right to stow it away in the bank safe. I certainly should be loth to leave it here with you in the room, after what you have said." He then got up, unlocked the drawer, took out the bag, and with a "Goodnight, Mr,"left the room.
I "trifled" over my brandy and water till I finished it, and then walked forth to look at the town. I turned up a street, which led to the east, and soon found myself beside the lake at the north-west extremity of which Bala stands. It appeared a very noble sheet of water stretching from north to south for several miles.
As, however, night was fast coming on I did not see it to its full advantage. After gazing upon it for a few minutes I sauntered back to the square, or marketplace, and leaning my back against a wall, listened to the conversation of two or three groups of people who were standing near, my motive for doing so being a desire to know what kind of Welsh they spoke. Their language as far as I heard it differed in scarcely any respect from that of Llangollen. I, however, heard very little of it, for I had scarcely kept my station a minute when the good folks became uneasy, cast side-glances at me, first dropped their conversation to whispers, next held their tongues altogether, and finally moved off, some going to their homes, others moving to a distance and then grouping together - even certain ragged boys who were playing and chattering near me became uneasy, first stood still, then stared at me, and then took themselves off and played and chattered at a distance. Now what was the cause of all this? Why, suspicion of the Saxon. The Welsh are afraid lest an Englishman should understand their language, and, by hearing their conversation, become acquainted with their private affairs, or by listening to it, pick up their language which they have no mind that he should know - and their very children sympathise with them. All conquered people are suspicious of their conquerors, The English have forgot that they ever conquered the Welsh, but some ages will elapse before the Welsh forget that the English have conquered them.
