THE WELSH BORDERLAND 



he seems to have been in request as companion on 

 fishing excursions far beyond the bounds of his native 

 waters. His widow moved into a roomy ancient 

 house standing in a considerable garden in the neigh- 

 bouring village of Kingsland. The venerable dame 

 told me she got it at a low rent by reason of its extreme 

 antiquity. It contained some quite capacious hand- 

 some rooms with carved mantels, and being kept 

 beautifully clean, and withal suitably furnished, was 

 most attractive. I lay there one night, and it was 

 not till I went aloft to bed that I began to perceive 

 the mystery of the landlord's moderation. For the 

 ascent from the door to the head of the bed and the 

 dressing-table was so precipitous that, with only a 

 bottle of cider to my credit, it took careful climbing 

 on the oak floor to accomplish the feat, and when I 

 had to make the return trip in the morning I felt 

 greatly moved to sit down and toboggan it. I don't 

 know what the age of that house can be. Jasper 

 Tudor might well have occupied it his last night 

 on earth before the battle ! 



It was Coronation Day that on this occasion, after 

 weeks of dry weather, broke cloudy and drizzly. I 

 was fishing that morning, and never felt in such an 

 awkward predicament in my life. The very notion of 

 rain at such a moment was unthinkable, yet under 

 any other conceivable conditions I should have been 

 on my knees praying that the threatening clouds 

 might break. Happily, I can honestly swear that I 

 repelled with disgust unworthy and insidious thoughts, 

 and rejoiced as heartily as the parson and the school- 

 master when the great flag on the church tower at 



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