"My parents wanted me at home, sir," said he; "and I was not sorry
to go home; I earned little, and lived badly."

"A shepherd," said I, "can earn more than five shillings a week."

"I was never a regular shepherd, sir," said he. "But, sir, I would
rather be a weaver with five shillings a week in Llangollen, than a
shepherd with fifteen on the mountain. The life of a shepherd,
sir, is perhaps not exactly what you and some other gentlefolks
think. The shepherd bears much cold and wet, sir, and he is very
lonely; no society save his sheep and dog. Then, sir, he has no
privileges. I mean gospel privileges. He does not look forward to
Dydd Sul, as a day of llawenydd, of joy and triumph, as the weaver
does; that is if he is religiously disposed. The shepherd has no
chapel, sir, like the weaver. Oh, sir, I say again that I would
rather be a weaver in Llangollen with five shillings a week, than a
shepherd on the hill with fifteen."

"Do you mean to say," said I, "that you live with your family on
five shillings a week?"

"No, sir. I frequently do little commissions by which I earn
something. Then, sir, I have friends, very good friends. A good
lady of our congregation sent me this morning half-a-pound of
butter. The people of our congregation are very kind to each
other, sir."

"That is more," thought I to myself, "than the people of my
congregation are; they are always cutting each other's throats." I