though they are often very Welsh. They are sketched, with dialogue and
description, after the manner of "The Bible in Spain," though being
nearer home they had to be more modest in their peculiarities. He
establishes Welsh enthusiasm, hospitality and suspiciousness, in a very
friendly manner. The poet-innkeeper is an excellent sketch of a mild but
by no means spiritless type. He is accompanied by a man with a bulging
shoe who drinks ale and continually ejaculates: "The greatest poet in the
world"; for example, when Borrow asks: "Then I have the honour to be
seated with a bard of Anglesey?" "Tut, tut," says the bard. Borrow
agrees with him that envy--which has kept him from the bardic chair--will
not always prevail:

"'Sir,' said the man in grey, 'I am delighted to hear you. Give me your
hand, your honourable hand. Sir, you have now felt the hand-grasp of a
Welshman, to say nothing of an Anglesey bard, and I have felt that of a
Briton, perhaps a bard, a brother, sir? O, when I first saw your face
out there in the dyffryn, I at once recognised in it that of a kindred
spirit, and I felt compelled to ask you to drink. Drink, sir! but how is
this? the jug is empty--how is this?--O, I see--my friend, sir, though an
excellent individual, is indiscreet, sir--very indiscreet. Landlord,
bring this moment another jug of ale.'

"'The greatest prydydd,' stuttered he of the bulged shoe--'the greatest
prydydd--Oh--'

"'Tut, tut,' said the man in grey.

"'I speak the truth and care for no one,' said he of the tattered hat. 'I
say the greatest prydydd. If any one wishes to gainsay me let him show
his face, and Myn Diawl--'