'I will tell you, sir; I had been across the Berwyn to carry home a piece
of weaving work to a person who employs me. It was night as I returned,
and when I was about halfway down the hill, at a place which is called
Allt Paddy, because the Gwyddelod are in the habit of taking up their
quarters there, I came upon a gang of them, who had come there and camped
and lighted their fire whilst I was on the other side of the hill. There
were nearly twenty of them, men and women, and amongst the rest was a man
standing naked in a tub of water with two women stroking him down with
clouts. He was a large fierce-looking fellow and his body, on which the
flame of the fire glittered, was nearly covered with red hair. I never
saw such a sight. As I passed they glared at me and talked violently in
their Paddy Gwyddel, but did not offer to molest me. I hastened down the
hill, and right glad I was when I found myself safe and sound at my house
in Llangollen, with my money in my pocket, for I had several shillings
there, which the man across the hill had paid me for the work which I had
done.'

* * * * *

Now, a tinker is his own master, a scholar is not. Let us suppose the
best of scholars, a schoolmaster, for example, for I suppose you will
admit that no one can be higher in scholarship than a schoolmaster; do
you call his a pleasant life? I don't; we should call him a
school-slave, rather than a schoolmaster. Only conceive him in blessed
weather like this, in his close school, teaching children to write in
copy-books, 'Evil communication corrupts good manners.' . . . Only
conceive him, I say, drudging in such guise from morning till night,
without any rational enjoyment but to beat the children. Would you
compare such a dog's life as that with your own--the happiest under