"
"Are you a Churchman?" said I.
"No," said the old man, shortly; "I am a Methodist."
"I belong to the Church," said I.
"So I should have guessed, sir, by your being so well acquainted
with pennillion and histories. Ah, the Church. . . . ."
"This is dreadfully hot weather, said I, "and I should like to
offer you sixpence for ale, but as I am a Churchman I suppose you
would not accept it from my hands."
"The Lord forbid, sir," said the old man, "that I should be so
uncharitable! If your honour chooses to give me sixpence, I will
receive it willingly. Thank your honour! Well, I have often said
there is a great deal of good in the Church of England."
I once more looked at the hill which overlooked the scene of Owen
Gwynedd's triumph over the united forces of the Irish Lochlanders
and Normans, and then after inquiring of the old man whether I was
in the right direction for Penmynnydd, and finding that I was, I
set off at a great pace, singing occasionally snatches of Black
Robin's ode in praise of Anglesey, amongst others the following
stanza:-
"Bread of the wholesomest is found
In my mother-land of Anglesey;
Friendly bounteous men abound
In Penmynnydd of Anglesey."
I reached Penmynnydd, a small village consisting of a few white
houses and a mill.
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