“‘Was it?’ said David; ‘then this is mine.’ And he drank that too. The engine whistle was heard in the distance, and they both had to nip back to the station. David was triumphant, and now they call him Dafydd Nantgwyn. Here he comes.” The Squire arrived with his guest. I was introduced. The Squire looked doubtfully at me, and formally regretted that he had been unable to have the honour of entertaining me. Warming a little, he added that he had heard dreadful things of me. Was I not engaged in forming School Boards everywhere? What was to become of the farmers when the rates went up again? I laughed, and threw the responsibility on the Education Department. I was only a servant. But he had also heard that I had said at dinner in Carnarvonshire that if a man had more than a certain income, the balance should be given to the Exchequer. He was glad to find that I had named £50,000 a year, which left him untouched; but it was a dangerous doctrine. I dimly remembered some such _obiter dictum_ at some one’s house, but this was, I think, the first time in my life that I had heard of any importance being attached to a remark of mine. In the smoking-room at the Club, in chambers at the Temple, or at Bar Mess, one might propose the confiscation of Grosvenor Square for the benefit of briefless barristers, and no one would object; nay, much advice as to details would be offered. It seemed that an Inspector of Returns must weigh his words. Official life has its drawbacks. While I was thus musing the Rector of Llanfair was announced, and our party was complete. A little man, round, quick in eye and movement, and with that “tip-tilted” nose which is sure evidence of enjoyment of a joke. Friar Tuck with the accent of Sir Hugh Evans of Windsor. I forgot to say that “David Nantgwyn” had greeted me as an old friend. I had lunched with him at Llanbedr, when I visited his parish; and had laughed at his Welsh stories till I could laugh no more. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. Alas, poor Yorick! What was he doing in that galley? We went in to dinner, and as I passed by I heard Harry mutter to David, “Sut yma Dafydd Nantgwyn?” (How is David of Nantgwyn?) and there was a scuffle. It is good to dine at Llangastanau. The trout came out of the burn; the Welsh mutton was a native growth; the game, if I may judge from a smile passing from host to squire, came from the Hall. The port was from the college cellars, and St. Peter’s has a reputation. These delicacies, or the like, might be got in London; but David and the Druid were local and priceless: it did one good to look at the Squire and Harry; and the Rector would have adorned--not Lambeth, but a choicest Deanery. “If there was many like him,” said Mrs. Gamp, “we shouldn’t want no churches.”