“I see, Mr.,” said I, “that you are a sensible man, because you speak very much my own opinion. However, as I am an unprejudiced person, like yourself, I wish to do justice to other countries—the States are fine countries—but there are other fine countries in the world. I say nothing of England; catch me saying anything good of England; but I call Wales a fine country: gainsay it who may, I call Wales a fine country.” “So it is, Mr.” “I’ll go farther,” said I; “I wish to do justice to everything: I call the Welsh a fine language.” “So it is, Mr. Ah, I see you are an unprejudiced man. You don’t understand Welsh, I guess.” “I don’t understand Welsh,” said I; “I don’t understand Welsh. That’s what I call a good one.” “Medrwch siarad Cumraeg?” said the short figure, spitting upon the carpet. “Medraf,” said I. “You can, Mr.! Well, if that don’t whip the Union. But I see: you were born in the States of Welsh parents.” “No harm in being born in the States of Welsh parents,” said I. “None at all, Mr.; I was myself, and the first language I learnt to speak was Welsh. Did your people come from Bala, Mr.?” “Why no! Did yourn?” “Why yaas—at least from the neighbourhood. What State do you come from? Virginny?” “Why no!” “Perhaps Pensilvany country?” “Pensilvany is a fine state,” said I. “So it is, Mr. O, that is your state, is it? I come from Varmont.” “You do, do you? Well, Varmont is not a bad state, but not equal to Pensilvany, and I’ll tell you two reasons why; first, it has not been so long settled, and second, there is not so much Welsh blood in it as there is in Pensilvany.” “Is there much Welsh blood in Pensilvany, then?”