Cities and towns -- Growth -- Fiction; Wales -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
The serving of those summonses had an instant and very remarkable
effect. This effect was, that three of the inhabitants of Llanyglo
straightway lost all recollection of the English language. And not only
did they, the summoned ones, lose it, but every witness called from
Llanyglo fell into an ignorance as blank. This happened at Sessions,
before Squire Wynne himself, who, in the days before this visitation of
forgetfulness, had talked English to all of them. The gloomy
magistrates' Court opposite Porth Neigr railway station was crowded.
Terry Armfield, at whose instance the summonses had been issued, thought
he had never seen such a set of pigjobbers as stood against the
perspiring walls or sat with their chins on their outspread forearms,
their caps in their hands or in the pockets of their corduroys. The two
men who had put up the fences sat in the well of the Court. They were
brothers, and their name was Kerr. The skylight shone on the baldish
head of the elder of them, and both had given their evidence in a strong
Lancashire accent. They had been watching on the sandhills, they said,
expecting something of the sort, and knew that it had taken place at
exactly ten o'clock, because they had both looked at their watches....
So "Dim Saesneg," said man after man; and the Squire could only make
dots with his pen on the blotting-paper before him, keep his eyes from
Terry Armfield, and call for an interpreter.
Now interpretation takes time, during which time the person with most
to gain can be thinking of the tale he will tell next. So the
prosecuting solicitor stood up before Dafydd Dafis, and this kind of
thing began:
"Were you on this land at ten o'clock that night?"
("_Oeddych chi ar y tir yma am ddeg o'r gloch y noson hono, Dafydd
Dafis?_" This from the interpreter.)
A rapid denial from Dafydd, not a hair of his shaggy moustache moving.
"Ask him where he was."
"_Lle r'oeddych chi, Dafydd Dafis?_"
The harpist, his fingers twisting his cap, answered that he had been at
Pritchard's farm, and this also was translated.
"Have you any witnesses?"
("_Oes genych chi dystion, Dafydd Dafis?_")
"Eh?"
"_Oes genych chi dystion?_"
"_R'oeddwn efo John Willie Garden._"
("He says he can call the son of the man who is building a house there,
sir.") ...
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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