“Oh, Squire Eli, of Ffynnon Hall.”
Myself. What kind of a person is he? Is he old or young, has he a hump on his back, and does he wear spectacles? is he a nice, good-tempered fellow, or sour as crab beer? Tell me, gentle maid, the kind of companion I am to be honoured with.
“Oh, sir, how you do talk. Squire is a nice, well-spoken gentleman; and I am sure you’ll like him.”
Myself. Show the gentleman up; but tell your mistress that she will be a loser by his introduction, because I generally eat twice as much in company as when alone.
Presently Mr. Eli made his appearance, and I expressed to him how greatly pleased I was at his honouring me with his presence.
He replied to my remarks in a very neat speech, and said he was delighted in the opportunity of making my acquaintance, having heard of me from a common friend.
Before rising from the table I said, “What a beautiful name you have selected for your seat!”
“Then do you know Welsh?”
Myself. I know a little; I wish I knew more. It is the grandest language under the sun.
“For expressiveness and eloquence and poetry, you are right.”