"To Llangollen," said I.
"By the ten o'clock train?" said he.
"No," I replied, "I'm going on foot."
"On foot!" said he; "I would not go on foot there this night for
fifty pounds."
"Why not?" said I.
"For fear of being knocked down by the colliers, who will be all
out and drunk."
"If not more than two attack me," said I, "I shan't much mind.
With this book I am sure I can knock down one, and I think I can
find play for the other with my fists."
The commercial traveller looked at me. "A strange kind of Baptist
minister," I thought I heard him say.
CHAPTER LXII
Rhiwabon Road - The Public-house Keeper - No Welsh - The Wrong Road
- The Good Wife.
I PAID my reckoning and started. The night was now rapidly closing
in. I passed the toll-gate and hurried along the Rhiwabon road,
overtaking companies of Welsh going home, amongst whom were many
individuals, whom, from their thick and confused speech, as well as
from their staggering gait, I judged to be intoxicated. As I
passed a red public-house on my right hand, at the door of which
stood several carts, a scream of Welsh issued from it.
"Let any Saxon," said I, "who is fond of fighting and wishes for a
bloody nose go in there."
Coming to the small village about a mile from Rhiwabon, I felt
thirsty, and seeing a public-house, in which all seemed to be
quiet, I went in.
Pages:
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556