any of them could speak Welsh. "No, sir," said the man, "all the
Welsh that any of us know, or indeed wish to know, is 'Cwrw da.'"
Here there was a general laugh. Cwrw da signifies good ale. I at
first thought that the words might be intended as a hint for a
treat, but was soon convinced of the contrary. There was no greedy
expectation in his eyes, nor, indeed, in those of his companions,
though they all looked as if they were fond of good ale. I
inquired whether much Welsh was spoken in the town, and was told
very little. When the man returned with the clerk I thanked him.
He told me I was welcome, and then went and leaned with his back
against the wall. He and his mates were probably a set of boon
companions enjoying the air after a night's bout at drinking. I
was subsequently told that all the people of Wrexham are fond of
good ale. The clerk unlocked the church door, and conducted me in.
The interior was modern, but in no respects remarkable. The clerk
informed me that there was a Welsh service every Sunday afternoon
in the church, but that few people attended, and those few were
almost entirely from the country. He said that neither he nor the
clergyman were natives of Wrexham. He showed me the Welsh Church
Bible, and at my request read a few verses from the sacred volume.
He seemed a highly intelligent man. I gave him something, which
appeared to be more than he expected, and departed, after inquiring
of him the road to Llangollen.

I crossed a bridge, for there is a bridge and a stream too at
Wrexham. The road at first bore due west, but speedily took a
southerly direction. I moved rapidly over an undulating country; a
region of hills, or rather of mountains lay on my right hand. At
the entrance of a small village a poor, sickly-looking woman asked
me for charity.