and small craft could use it.

Parkgate is on the northern side of the River Dee. On the southern
side and beyond the Sands of Dee, rise the green hills of Wales,
melting away into blue mysterious distance. Near as Wales is the
people over there speak a different tongue from the English, and to
young Grenfell and his companions it was a strange and foreign land
and the people a strange and mysterious people. We have most of us,
in our young days perhaps, thought that all Welshmen were like Taffy,
of whom Mother Goose sings:

"Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief,
Taffy came to my house and stole a piece of beef;
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy wasn't home,
Taffy came to my house and stole a marrow bone;
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was in bed,
I took the marrow-bone, and beat about his head."

But it was Grenfell's privilege, living so near, to make little visits
over into Wales, and he early had an opportunity to learn that Taffy
was not in the least like Welshmen. He found them fine, honest,
kind-hearted folk, with no more Taffys among them than there are among
the English or Americans. The great Lloyd George, perhaps the greatest
of living statesmen, is a Welshman, and by him and not by Taffy, we
are now measuring the worth of this people who were the near neighbors
of Grenfell in his young days.

Mostyn House, where Grenfell lived, overlooked the estuary. From the
windows of his father's house he could see the fishing smacks going
out upon the great adventurous sea and coming back laden with fish.