“Since the death of my grandfather,” said the girl, “which happened about a year ago. When he died my father came here and took possession of his birth-right.”
“You speak very good English,” said I; “have you any Welsh?”
“Oh yes, plenty,” said the girl; “we always speak Welsh together, but being born at Liverpool, I of course have plenty of English.”
“And which language do you prefer?” said I.
“I think I like English best,” said the girl, “it is the most useful language.”
“Not in Anglesey,” said I.
“Well,” said the girl, “it is the most genteel.”
“Gentility,” said I, “will be the ruin of Welsh, as it has been of many other things—what have I to pay for the ale?”
“Three pence,” said she.
I paid the money and the girl went out. I finished my ale, and getting up made for the door; at the door I was met by Mr Hugh Pritchard, who came out of the tap-room to thank me for my custom, and to bid me farewell. I asked him whether I should have any difficulty in finding the way to Llanfair.