By Berwen Banks

"At Morfa," said Shanw, "they have killed a cow and a sheep; and the

tongues, and fowls, and hams will fill every oven in the parish."

Betto sniffed and tossed her head scornfully. "They may well give them

bread and meat," she said, "for I don't see what else they have to give

them."

"What else, indeed," said Shanw, ready for the frequent fray. "They

won't have your hum-drum old church fregot, perhaps, but you come

and see, and hear Hughes Bangor, Price Merthyr, Jones Welshpool.

Nothing to give them, indeed! Why, Price Merthyr would send your old

red velvet cushion at church flying into smithireens in five minutes.

Haven't I heard him. He begins soft and low, like a cat purring on the

hearth, and then he gets louder and louder, till he ends like a roaring

lion. And our own preacher, Essec Powell, to begin and finish the

meeting. There's busy Valmai must be. Marged Hughes is there to help,

and she says--"

"Oh, be quiet," said Betto, "and go along with your Valmai, and your

Price Merthyr, and your hams, and lions, and things. Ach y fi! I

don't want to hear about such things in a clergyman's house."

"Valmai is a beauty, whatever," said Dye, the ploughboy. "I kiwked

at her over the hedge this morning when she was going to Caer Madoc;

she's as pretty as an angel. Have you ever seen her, Ser?"

"Valmai," said Cardo, prevaricating, "surely that is a new name in this

neighbourhood?"

"Yes, she is Essec Powell's niece come home from over the sea. She is

an orphan, and they say the old man is keeping her reading and reading

to him all day till she is fair tired, poor thing."

"Well, it is getting late," said Cardo, "good-night." And his rising

was the signal for them all to disperse, the men servants going to

their beds over the hay loft or stable; while the women, leaving their

wooden shoes at the bottom, followed each other with soft tread up the

creaking back stairs.

In the study the Vicar poured over his books, as he translated from

English into Welsh the passages which interested him most. He was,

like many of the inhabitants of the South Wales coast, a descendant of

the Flemings, who had long ago settled there, and who have left such

strong and enduring marks of their presence.

Their language has long given place to a sort of doggerel English, but

they have never learned to speak the language of the country except in

some of the straggling border villages.

Pembrokeshire, in particular, retains a complete separateness, so to

speak, from the rest of the country, and is often called "Little

England beyond Wales." Thus it was that the English language seemed

always more natural to Meurig Wynne than the Welsh. His sermons were

always thought out in that language, and then translated into the

vernacular, and this, perhaps, accounted in some degree for their

stiffness and want of living interest. His descent from the Flemings

had the disadvantage of drawing a line of distinction between him and

his parishioners, and thus added to his unpopularity. In spite of

this, Cardo was an immense favourite, his frank and genial

manner--inherited from his mother, who was thoroughly Welsh--making its

way easily to the warm Welsh hearts. There was a deep well of

tenderness, almost of pity, within him for his cold stern father, a

longing to break through his reserve, a hankering after the loving ways

of home life, which he missed though he had never known them. The cold

Fleming had very little part in Cardo's nature, and, with his

enthusiastic Welsh sympathies, he was wont to regret and disclaim his

connection with these ancient ancestors. His father's pedigree,

however, made it very plain that the Gwynnes of Brynderyn were

descended from Gwayn, a Flemish wool merchant who had settled there in

the reign of Henry I.--these settlers being protected and encouraged by

the English king, who found their peaceable, industrious habits a great

contrast to the turbulence and restlessness of the Welsh under their

foreign yoke. Time has done but little to soften the difference

between the Welsh and Flemish characters; they have never really

amalgamated, and to this day the descendants of the Flemings remain a

separate people in language, disposition, and appearance. In

Pembrokeshire, Gower, and Radnorshire, we find them still flourishing,

and for some distance along the coast northwards from Pembrokeshire

there are still families, and even whole hamlets, descended from them,

exhibiting traits of character and peculiarities of manner easily

discernible to an observant eye.