“That is, single-handed,” said I.
“Single-handed, no nor double-handed either. Let England and France and the State which they are now trying to whip without being able to do it, that’s Russia, all unite in a union to whip the Union, and if instead of whipping the States they don’t get a whipping themselves, call me a braying jackass—”
“I see, Mr,” said I, “that you are a sensible man, because you speak very much my own opinion. However, as I am an unprejudiced person, like yourself, I wish to do justice to other countries—the States are fine countries—but there are other fine countries in the world. I say nothing of England; catch me saying anything good of England; but I call Wales a fine country; gainsay it who may, I call Wales a fine country.”
“So it is, Mr.”
“I’ll go farther,” said I; “I wish to do justice to everything: I call the Welsh a fine language.”
“So it is, Mr. Ah, I see you are an unprejudiced man. You don’t understand Welsh, I guess.”
“I don’t understand Welsh,” said I; “I don’t understand Welsh. That’s what I call a good one.”
“Medrwch siarad Cumraeg?” said the short figure spitting on the carpet.
“Medraf,” said I.
“You can, Mr! Well, if that don’t whip the Union. But I see: you were born in the States of Welsh parents.”