morning, Mr. Morgan,' he said, 'wass blow fery hard last night got slates off your church roof, they tell me?

Yes,' I said, 'I'm on my way to Moses Jenkins to get it mended.'

"He leered at me with horrible malice and cunning: 'Wass no-a sle-ates off our chapel roof, Mr. Morgan.'

"I leered back at him: 'D'ye think, Risiard, the Prince of the power of the air would unroof his own chapel?' And he fled."

"Too bad, too bad," protested the Rector feebly; for he had laughed with the rest, though all unwillingly. "Too bad for Richard Jones," murmured David to

me.

"Well, I am not so bad as Dr. Johnson, whatever," retorted the Druid. "I was reading last week how Boswell found him throwing snails over his garden wall." "Sir,' remonstrated Bozzy, 'that is rather hard on your neighbour.'

"Sir,' replied the Doctor, 'I believe the dog is a Dissenter.'

The Rector rose from his chair with marked disapproval. "Shall we go into the study?" he said. And we adjourned.

CHAPTER V

LLANGASTANAU THE LIBRARY

Dissolve frigus ligna super foco
Large reponens, atque benignius
Deprome quadrimum Sabina,
O Thaliarche, merum diota.

HORACE, Od. I. 9.

Heap high the logs, and melt the cold,
Good Thaliarch; draw the wine we ask,
That mellower vintage, four-year old,

From out the cellar'd Sabine cask.

CONINGTON.

I FOUND that the Rector had a quaint custom, a survival of his Common-room days at St. Peter's. Dinner was in the dining-room; Wine with the eponymous chestnuts was served in the library, and it was an older bin than Horace offered to his guests. We sat in a half-circle before the fire, and each man had a small table in front of him. There was even a mimic railway, copied from the St. Peter's Common-room, to carry the decanters across the fireplace, under the mantel-shelf.

But at the dining-room door my host stopped me, and at the same time signalled to the Druid to stop. With many apologies he explained that the schoolmaster, Mr. Evans, whom I was to inspect next morning, was very anxious to see me just for a moment, if I would oblige the

worthy man. Mr. Morgan, who was one of the managers, would accompany me.

Of course I consented, and we went into another room. As we passed through the hall I noticed that the Rev. David gave the master a kindly greeting, and that the latter returned it with a respectful but reproachful smile. Our business was entirely uninteresting, and in fact might have well been postponed to the morrow; but I had already learned that in country schools the Annual Inspection was the event of the year, and the filling up of Form IX. (the school statistics supplied to the Department) was like the settling of a marriage contract. Two minutes sufficed to pacify the master, and I bade him good-night. As I was leaving the room, however, I heard him say to the Druid:

"You have Mr. Williams, Llanbedr, here to-night, Mr. Morgan. Fery pleasant chentleman: eferybotty likes Mr. Williams, indeed. Did you hear about Capel Zion? Oh it wass too bahd." And he stroked his beard with intense enjoyment.

Capel Zion? No, what was it?" asked the Druid eagerly. "Stop, Inspector, this is good for the digestion."

"Well indeed it wass too bahd," repeated Evans. "You know Capel Zion, Mr. Morgan, that they have built between Llanbedr and Llanfawr? and just before it wass finished, Mr. Williams wass riding past the chapel door, and saw that they were putting up a board with a text painted on it, and it wass 'Tŷ GWEDDI Y GELWIR FY NHŶ I'; that is, sir (he explained to me), My house shall be called the House of Prayer.' So Mr. Williams looks at it, and just then Meshach Morgan, the deacon, you know, came out, and Mr. Williams says, 'Morning,

Meshach pity to haf it painted like thaht it will want doing again efery two years in this valley: why not have it carved on slate?' Too much money, Mr. Williams,' says the deacon. But Reverend Williams says, oh, he should like to have the pri-vi-ledsh of presenting the new chapel with a suitable text like thaht, out off the Book that they all valued (thaht wass bahd for Meshach, because he would not haf it in the Board School at the last meeting), just to show his friendship for his Nonconformist brethren. And so it wass settled. Mr. Williams goes down to Dolgellau and orders a slab of slate to be carved, and he gives the man a copy of the text: and after a time it comes, and the Capel Zion congregashun were very proud of it, and efery one praised the Vicar for being so liberal to those from whom he differed, and the Herald bach (Carnarvon Herald) praised him too.

"But one day Elias Morgan, Felin-ddu wass riding by the chapel after dining with the Captain, and they say he had had a glass or two-well, it is a peety-and he sees the deacon there, and calls out, 'Hallo, Meshach, HEN OGOF LLADRON !'-that iss, sir, old den of thieves'—and he points to the slab. Well, Meshach Morgan looked up, and all in a moment it came to him what it wass, when he saw the slab, and the text there it wass ofer the door :

'Tŷ GWEDDI Y GELWIR FY NHŶ I; EITHR CHWI A'I GWNAETHOCH YN OGOF LLADRON.'

That iss, sir, 'My House shall be called the House of Prayer, but ye have made it a den of thieves.' Oh, it wass too bahd; and now they don't know what to do with the slahb whatefer. Well, good-night now, gentlemen," and he went.

The Druid lay back in a low chair, and kicked his little fat legs in the air, screaming with suppressed joy, but anxiously looking round to see whether the Rector was within hearing. I think I enjoyed the story no less. There are moments when life is worth living.

We made our way to the library, and found that our host was waxing impatient. The chestnuts were getting cold. "Castan da iawn" (first-rate chestnut) said the Druid with a reminiscent chuckle, and we sat down to the College port.

"Old wine, old friends, old books," murmured the Rector, and the squire grasped his hand with a tear of affection in his eye.

"Old jokes too, eh? hen Castan," said David.

"Hen ogof lladron," 2 replied the Druid in a low voice, and they both looked nervously to see whether the Rector was listening. Happily he was absorbed in meditation. I wondered at times whether there had been some tragedy in his life, leaving him a lonely man. But it was not my business.

"Good old chap, Evans," said the Squire "parish couldn't get on without him; but he gets bothered a bit when you fellows come round every autumn. Runs the school from nine to four; keeps the accounts of a small quarry, and of a Co-operative Store at night measures land for the farmers on Saturdays."

"Helps me with my figures on Saturdays, too," murmured Harry, whose education had been severely classical.

"Runs Sunday School on Sundays, and plays the organ in Church," continued the Squire.

"With approximate accuracy," added Harry in a

1 Old chestnut.

2 Old den of thieves.