THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 19 



courtesy, and that measured by the guinea ; but speak 

 a word only in the native tongue, and it will draw 

 forth at once, not only a welcome, but the best of fare 

 and the heartiest reception. I cannot tell how, but 

 certain is it, that years of interchange with the Saxon 

 have not brought about anything like such a fusion of 

 the races as the intermixture, which has occurred com- 

 mercially and otherwise, might have fairly been pre- 

 dicted to produce. The Cymry in their country are yet 

 as distinct in regard to passionate feeling from the 

 Saxon as the wild-eyed pony of Merioneth and the 

 quick cob of Carmarthenshire are from the stately 

 Lincoln black. An amusing illustration of this strange 

 feeling towards the Saxon is recorded to have occurred 

 at a well-known ford in Glamorganshire. A rider in 

 haste rode down to the river, attracting the curiosity of 

 a countryman, who was ploughing alongside, and whose 

 counsel the stranger solicited as to crossing. "All 

 right, go on you." A gravel bank lay before him, 

 which dropped down quite suddenly into a pool of con- 

 siderable depth. The ford followed a half-circle of solid 

 footing around it. One step forward, and the poor 

 horseman was aware of the trap. At once the steed 

 was swimming, and his rider immersed by the strong 

 action in danger of being kicked out of life altogether. 

 Blubbering and spluttering, he spoke out. strongly to 

 the giggling onlooker, who had his plough upon the 

 turn, and it was luckily in Celtic that he spoke — some- 

 what vehemently, we doubt not, as the local tradition 

 records. But whatever he did say or did not say, any- 

 how instantaneous and effective was the help ren- 

 dered, as by one who knew the danger and the mode 

 of deliverance. 



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