At length a whisper
ran about the alley that the groom was a Welshman; this whisper
much increased the malice of my brother clerks against him, who
were now whenever he passed the door, and they happened to be there
by twos or threes, in the habit of saying something, as if by
accident, against Wales and Welshmen, and, individually or
together, were in the habit of shouting out "Taffy," when he was at
some distance from them, and his back was turned, or regaling his
ears with the harmonious and well-known distich of "Taffy was a
Welshman, Taffy was a thief: Taffy came to my house and stole a
piece of beef." It had, however, a very different effect upon me.
I was trying to learn Welsh, and the idea occurring to me that the
groom might be able to assist me in my pursuit, I instantly lost
all desire to torment him, and determined to do my best to scrape
acquaintance with him, and persuade him to give me what assistance
he could in Welsh. I succeeded; how I will not trouble the reader
with describing: he and I became great friends, and he taught me
what Welsh he could. In return for his instructions I persuaded my
brother clerks to leave off holloing after him, and to do nothing
further to hurt his feelings, which had been very deeply wounded,
so much so, that after the first two or three lessons he told me in
confidence that on the morning of the very day I first began to
conciliate him he had come to the resolution of doing one of two
things, namely, either to hang himself from the balk of the
hayloft, or to give his master warning, both of which things he
told me he should have been very unwilling to do, more particularly
as he had a wife and family.
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