"An old boy very cruel is the Parson," Abel whined. "Has he not strained
Gwen for his tithes? Auction her he did and bought her himself for three
pounds and half a pound."

Ben answered: "Go now and say the next Saturday Benshamin Lloyd will
give mouthings on tithes in Capel Dissenters."

Ben stood in the pulpit, and spoke to the people of Capel Dissenters.

"How many of you have been to his church?" he cried. "Not one male bach
or one female fach. Go there the next Sabbath, and the black muless will
not say to you: 'Welcome you are, persons Capel. But there's glad am I
to see you.' A comic sermon you will hear. A sermon got with
half-a-crown postal order. Ask Postman. Laugh highly you will and stamp
on the floor. Funny is the Parson in the white frock. Ach y fy, why for
he doesn't have a coat preacher like Respecteds? Ask me that. From where
does his Church come from? She is the inheritance of Satan. The only
thing he had to leave, and he left her to his friends the parsons.
Iss-iss, earnest affair is this. Who gives him his food? We. Who pays
for Vicarage? We. Who feeds his pony? We. His cows? We. Who built his
church? We. With stones carted from our quarries and mortar messed about
with the tears of our mothers and the blood of our fathers."

At the gate of the chapel men discussed Ben's words; and two or three of
them stole away and herded Gwen into the corner of the field; and they
caught her and cut off her tail, and drove a staple into her udder.
Sunday morning eleven men from Capel Dissenters, with iron bands to
their clogs on their feet, and white aprons before their bellies,
shouted without the church: "We are come to pray from the book." The
Parson was affrighted, and left over tolling his bell, and he bolted and