chapel.
As joy came to him, so grief fell upon his wife. "After all," Ben wrote
to her, "you belong to him. You have been joined together in the holiest
and sacredest matrimony. Monumental responsibilities have been thrust on
me by my people. I did not seek for them, but it is my duty to bear
them. Pray that I shall use God's hoe with understanding and wisdom.
There is a talk of putting me up for Parliament. Others will have a
chanse of electing a real religious man. I must not be tempted by you
again. Well, good-by, Gwen, may He keep you unspotted from the world.
Ships that pass in the night."

Enoch was plagued, and he followed Ben to chapel meetings, eisteddfodau,
Cymrodorion and St. David's Day gatherings, always speaking in this
fashion: "Cast under is the girl fach you do not visit her. Improved has
her singing."

Because Ben was careless of his call, his wrath heated and he said to
him: "Growing is the baban."

"How's trade?" Ben remarked. "Do you estimate for Government contracts?"

"Not thought have I."

"Just hinted. A word I can put in."

"Red is the head of the baban."

"Two black heads make red," observed Ben.

"And his name is Benjamin."

"As you speak. Farewell for to-day. How would you like to put up for a
Welsh constituency?"

"Not deserving am I of anything. Happy would I and the wife be to see
you in the House."

But Ben's promise was fruitless; and Enoch bewailed: "A serpent flew
into my house."

He ordered Gwen to go to Ben.

"Recall to him this and that," he said. "A very good advert an M.P.
would be for the business. Be you dressed like a lady. Take a fur coat
on appro from the shop."

Often thereafter he bade his wife to take such a message. But Gwen had
overcome her distress and she strew abroad her charms; for no man could
now suffice her. So she always departed to one of her lovers and came
back with fables on her tongue.

"What can you expect of the Welsh?" cried Enoch in his wrath. "He hasn't
paid for the goods he got on tick from the shop. County court him will
I. He ate my food. The unrighteous ate the food of the righteous. And he
was bad with you. Did I not watch? No good is the assistant that lets
the customer go away with not a much obliged."

The portion of the Bible that Enoch read that night was this: "I have
decked my bed with coverings of tapestry, with carved works, with fine
linen of Egypt.... Come, let us take our fill of love until the morning:
let us solace ourselves with love. For the goodman is not at home, he is
gone on a long journey. He hath--"

"That's lovely," said Gwen.

"Tapestry from my shop," Enoch expounded. "And Irish linen. And busy was
the draper in Kingsend."

Gwen pretended to be asleep.

"He is the father. That will learn him to keep his promise. The wicked
man!"

Unknown to her husband Gwen stood before Ben; and at the sight of her
Ben longed to wanton with her. Gwen stretched out her arms to be clear
of him and to speak to him; her speech was stopped with kisses and her
breasts swelled out. Again she found pleasure in Ben's strength.

Then she spoke of her husband's hatred.

"Like a Welshman every spit he is," said Ben. "And a black."

But his naughtiness oppressed him for many days and he intrigued; and it
came to pass that Enoch was asked to contest a Welsh constituency, and
Enoch immediately let fall his anger for Ben.

"Celebrate this we shall with a reception in the Town Hall," he
announced. "You, Gwen fach, will wear the chikest Paris model we can
find. Ben's kindness is more than I expected. Much that I have I owe to
him."

"Even your son," said Gwen.




VI

TREASURE AND TROUBLE


On a day in a dry summer Sheremiah's wife Catrin drove her cows to drink
at the pistil which is in the field of a certain man. Hearing of that
which she had done, the man commanded his son: "Awful is the frog to
open my gate. Put you the dog and bitch on her. Teach her will I."

It was so; and Sheremiah complained: "Why for is my spring barren? In
every field should water be."

"Say, little husband, what is in your think?" asked Catrin.

"Stupid is your head," Sheremiah answered, "not to know what I throw
out. Going am I to search for a wet farm fach."

Sheremiah journeyed several ways, and always he journeyed in secret;
and he could not find what he wanted. Tailor Club Foot came to sit on
his table to sew together garments for him and his two sons. The tailor
said: "Farm very pretty is Rhydwen. Farm splendid is the farm fach."

"And speak like that you do, Club Foot," said Sheremiah.

"Iss-iss," the tailor mumbled.

"Not wanting an old farm do I," Sheremiah cried. "But speak to goodness
where the place is. Near you are, calf bach, about affairs."

The tailor answered that Rhydwen is in the hollow of the hill which
arises from Capel Sion to the moor.

In the morning Sheremiah rode forth on his colt, and he said to Shan
Rhydwen: "Boy of a pigger am I, whatever."

"Dirt-dirt, man," Shan cried; "no fat pigs have I, look you."

"Mournful that is. Mouthings have I heard about grand pigs Tyhen. No
odds, wench. Farewell for this minute, female Tyhen."

"Pigger from where you are?" Shan asked.

"From Pencader the horse has carried me. Carry a preacher he did the
last Monday."

"Weary you are, stranger. Give hay to your horse, and rest you and take
you a little cup of tea."

"Happy am I to do that. Thirsty is the backhead of my neck."

Sheremiah praised the Big Man for tea, bread, butter, and cheese, and
while he ate and drank he put artful questions to Shan. In the evening
he said to Catrin: "Quite tidy is Rhydwen. Is she not one hundred acres?
And if there is not water in every field, is there not in four?"

He hastened to the owner of Rhydwen and made this utterance: "Farmer
very ordinary is your sister Shan. Shamed was I to examine your land."

"I shouldn't be surprised," answered the owner. "Speak hard must I to
the trollop."

"Not handy are women," said Sheremiah. "Sell him to me the poor-place.
Three-fourths of the cost I give in yellow money and one-fourth
by-and-by in three years."

Having taken over Rhydwen, Sheremiah in due season sold much of his corn
and hay, some of his cattle, and many such movable things as were in his
house or employed in tillage; and he and Catrin came to abide in
Rhydwen; and they arrived with horses in carts, cows, a bull and oxen,
and their sons, Aben and Dan. As they passed Capel Sion, people who were
gathered at the roadside to judge them remarked how that Aben was blind
in his left eye and that Dan's shoulders were as high as his ears.

At the finish of a round of time Sheremiah hired out his sons and all
that they earned he took away from them; and he and Catrin toiled to
recover Rhydwen from its slovenry. After he had paid all that he owed
for the place, and after Catrin had died of dropsy, he called his sons
home.

Thereon he thrived. He was over all on the floor of Sion, even those in
the Big Seat. Men in debt and many widow-women sought him to free them,
and in freeing them he made compacts to his advantage. Thus he came to
have more cattle than Rhydwen could hold, and he bought Penlan, the farm
of eighty acres which goes up from Rhydwen to the edge of the moor, and
beyond.

In quiet seasons he and Aben and Dan dug ditches on the land of Rhydwen;
"so that," he said, "my creatures shall not perish of thirst."

Of a sudden a sickness struck him, and in the hush which is sometimes
before death, he summoned to him his sons. "Off away am I to the
Palace," he said.

"Large will be the shout of joy among the angels," Aben told him.

"And much weeping there will be in Sion," said Dan. "Speak you a little
verse for a funeral preach."

"Cease you your babblings, now, indeed," Sheremiah demanded. "Born first
you were, Aben, and you get Rhydwen. And you, Dan, Penlan."

"Father bach," Aben cried, "not right that you leave more to me than
Dan."

"Crow you do like a cuckoo," Dan admonished his brother. "Wise you are,
father. Big already is your giving to me."

Aben looked at the window and he beheld a corpse candle moving outward
through the way of the gate. "Religious you lived, father Sheremiah, and
religious you put on a White Shirt." Then Aben spoke of the sight he had
seen.

The old man opened his lips, counseling: "Hish, hish, boys. Break you
trenches in Penlan, Dan. Poor bad are farms without water. More than
everything is water." He died, and his sons washed him and clothed him
in a White Shirt of the dead, and clipped off his long beard, which
ceasing to grow, shall not entwine his legs and feet and his arms and
hands on the Day of Rising; and they bowed their heads in Sion for the
full year.

Dan and Aben lived in harmony. They were not as brothers, but as
strangers; neighborly and at peace. They married wives, by whom they had
children, and they sat in the Big Seat in Sion. They mowed their hay and
reaped their corn at separate periods, so that one could help the other;
if one needed the loan of anything he would borrow it from his brother;
if one's heifer strayed into the pasture of the other, the other would
say: "The Big Man will make the old grass grow." On the Sabbath they and
their children walked as in procession to Sion.

In accordance with his father's word, Dan dug ditches in Penlan; and
against the barnyard--which is at the forehead of his house--water
sprang up, and he caused it to run over his water-wheel into his pond.

Now there fell upon this part of Cardiganshire a season of exceeding
drought. The face of the earth was as the face of a cancerous man. There
was no water in any of the ditches of Rhydwen and none in those of
Penlan. But the spring which Dan had found continued to yield, and from
it Aben's wife took away water in pitchers and buckets; and to the pond
Aben brought his animals.

One day Aben spoke to Dan in this wise: "Serious sure, an old bother is
this."

"Iss-iss," replied Dan. "Good is the Big Man to allow us water bach."

"How speech you if I said: 'Unfasten your pond and let him flow into my
ditches'?"

"The land will suck him before he goes far," Dan answered.

Aben departed; and he considered: "Did not Penlan belong to Sheremiah?
Travel under would the water and hap spout up in my close. Nice that
would be. Nasty is the behavior of Dan and there's sly is the job."

To Dan he said: "Open your pond, man, and let the water come into the
ditches which father Sheremiah broke."

Dan would not do as Aben desired, wherefore Aben informed against him in
Sion, crying: "Little Big Man, know you not what a Turk is the fox? One
eye bach I have, but you have two, and can see all his wickedness. Make
you him pay the cost." He raised his voice so high that the congregation
could not discern the meaning thereof, and it shouted as one person:
"Wo, now, boy Sheremiah! What is the matter, say you?"

The anger which Aben nourished against Dan waxed hot. Rain came, and it
did not abate, and the man plotted mischief to his brother's damage. In
heavy darkness he cut the halters which held Dan's cows and horses to
their stalls and drove the animals into the road. He also poisoned pond
Penlan, and a sheep died before it could be killed and eaten.

Dan wept very sore. "Take you the old water," he said. "Fat is my
sorrow."

"Not religious you are," Aben censured him. "All the water is mine."

"Useful he is to me," Dan replied. "Like would I that he turns my wheel
as he goes to you."

"Clap your mouth," answered Aben.

"Not as much as will go through the leg of a smoking pipe shall you
have."

In Sion Aben told the Big Man of all the benefits which he had conferred
upon Dan.

Men and women encouraged his fury; some said this: "An old paddy is Dan
to rob your water. Ach y fi"; and some said this: "A dirty ass is the
mule." His fierce wrath was not allayed albeit Dan turned the course of
the water away from his pond, and on his knees and at his labor asked
God that peace might come.

"Bury the water," Aben ordered, "and fill in the ditch, Satan."

"That will I do speedily," Dan answered in his timidity. "Do you give me
an hour fach, for is not the sowing at hand?" Aben would not hearken
unto his brother. He deliberated with a lawyer, and Dan was made to dig
a ditch straightway from the spring to the close of Rhydwen, and he put
pipes in the bottom of the ditch, and these pipes he covered with gravel
and earth.

So as Dan did not sow, he had nothing to reap; and people mocked him in
this fashion: "Come we will and gather in your harvest, Dan bach." He
held his tongue, because he had nothing to say. His affliction pressed
upon him so heavily that he would not be consoled and he hanged himself
on a tree; and his body was taken down at the time of the morning stars.

A man ran to Rhydwen and related to Aben the manner of Dan's death. Aben
went into a field and sat as one astonished until the light of day
paled. Then he arose, shook himself, and set to number the ears of wheat
which were in his field.




VII

SAINT DAVID AND THE PROPHETS


God grants prayers gladly. In the moment that Death was aiming at him a
missile of down, Hughes-Jones prayed: "Bad I've been. Don't let me fall
into the Fiery Pool. Give me a brief while and a grand one I'll be for
the religion." A shaft of fire came out of the mouth of the Lord and the
shaft stood in the way of the missile, consuming it utterly; "so," said
the Lord, "are his offenses forgotten."

"Is it a light thing," asked Paul, "to defy the Law?"

"God is merciful," said Moses.

"Is the Kingdom for such as pray conveniently?"

"This," Moses reproved Paul, "is written in a book: 'The Lord shall
judge His people.'"

Yet Paul continued to dispute, the Prophets gathering near him for
entertainment; and the company did not break up until God, as is the
custom in Heaven when salvation is wrought, proclaimed a period of
rejoicing.

Wherefore Heaven's windows, the number of which is more than that of
blades of grass in the biggest hayfield, were lit as with a flame; and
Heman and his youths touched their instruments with fingers and hammers
and the singing angels lifted their voices in song; and angels in the
likeness of young girls brewed tea in urns and angels in the likeness of
old women baked pleasant breads in the heavenly ovens. Out of Hell there
arose two mountains, which established themselves one over the other on
the floor of Heaven, and the height of the mountains was the depth of
Hell; and you could not see the sides of the mountains for the vast
multitude of sinners thereon, and you could not see the sinners for the
live coals to which they were held, and you could not see the burning
coals for the radiance of the pulpit which was set on the furthermost
peak of the mountain, and you could not see the pulpit--from toe to head
it was of pure gold--for the shining countenance of Isaiah; and as
Isaiah preached, blood issued out of the ends of his fingers from the
violence with which he smote his Bible, and his single voice was louder
than the lamentations of the damned.

As the Lord had enjoined, the inhabitants of Heaven rejoiced: eating and
drinking, weeping and crying hosanna.

But Paul would not joy over that which the Lord had done, and soon he
sought Him, and finding Him said: "A certain Roman noble labored his
horses to their death in a chariot race before Cæsar: was he worthy of
Cæsar's reward?"

"The noble is on the mountain-side," God answered, "and his horses are
in my chariots."

"One bears witness to his own iniquity, and you bid us feast and you say
'He shall have remembrance of me.'"

"Is there room in Heaven for a false witness?" asked God.

Again did Paul seek God. "My Lord," he entreated, "what manner of man is
this that confesses his faults?"

"You will provoke my wrath," said God. "Go and be merry."

Paul's face being well turned, God moved backward into the Record
Office, and of the Clerk of the Records He demanded: "Who is he that
prayed unto me?"

"William Hughes-Jones," replied the Clerk.

"Has the Forgiving Angel blotted out his sins?"

"For that I have fixed a long space of time"; and the Clerk showed God
eleven heavy books, on the outside of each of which was written:
"William Hughes-Jones, One and All Drapery Store, Hammersmith. His
sins"; and God examined the books and was pleased, and He cried:
"Rejoice fourfold"; and if Isaiah's roar was higher than the wailings of
the perished it was now more awful than the roar of a hundred bullocks
in a slaughter-house, and if Isaiah's countenance shone more than
anything in Heaven, it was now like the eye of the sun.

"Of what nation is he?" the Lord inquired of the Clerk.

"The Welsh; the Welsh Nonconformists."

"Put before me their good deeds."

"There is none. William Hughes-Jones is the first of them that has
prayed. Are not the builders making a chamber for the accounts of their
disobedience?"

Immediately God thundered: the earth trembled and the stars shivered and
fled from their courses and struck against one another; and God stood
on the brim of the universe and stretched out a hand and a portion of a
star fell into it, and that is the portion which He hurled into the
garden of Hughes-Jones's house. On a sudden the revels ceased: the bread
of the feast was stone and the tea water, and the songs of the angels
were hushed, and the strings of the harps and viols were withered, and
the hammers were dough, and the mountains sank into Hell, and behold
Satan in the pulpit which was an iron cage.

The Prophets hurried into the Judgment Hall with questions, and lo God
was in a cloud, and He spoke out of the cloud.

"I am angry," He said, "that Welsh Nonconformists have not heard my
name. Who are the Welsh Nonconformists?" The Prophets were silent, and
God mourned: "My Word is the earth and I peopled the earth with my
spittle; and I appointed my Prophets to watch over my people, and the
watchers slept and my children strayed."

Thus too said the Lord: "That hour I devour my children who have
forsaken me, that hour I shall devour my Prophets."

"May be there is one righteous among us?" said Moses.

"You have all erred."

"May be there is one righteous among the Nonconformists," said Moses;
"will the just God destroy him?"

"The one righteous is humbled, and I have warned him to keep my
commandments."

"The sown seed brought forth a prayer," Moses pleaded; "will not the
just God wait for the harvest?"

"My Lord is just," Paul announced. "They who gather wickedness shall not
escape the judgment, nor shall the blind instructor be held blameless."

Moreover Paul said: "The Welsh Nonconformists have been informed of you
as is proved by the man who confessed his transgressions. It is a good
thing for me that I am not of the Prophets."

"I'll be your comfort, Paul," the Prophets murmured, "that you have done
this to our hurt." Abasing themselves, they tore their mantles and
howled; and God, piteous of their howlings, was constrained to say:
"Bring me the prayers of these people and I will forget your
remissness."

The Prophets ran hither and thither, wailing: "Woe. Woe. Woe."

Sore that they behaved with such scant respect, Paul herded them into
the Council Room. "Is it seemly," he rebuked them, "that the Prophets of
God act like madmen?"

"Our lot is awful," said they.

"The lot of the backslider is justifiably awful," was Paul's rejoinder.
"You have prophesied too diligently of your own glory."

"You are learned in the Law, Paul," said Moses. "Make us waywise."

"Send abroad a messenger to preach damnation to sinners," answered Paul.
"For Heaven," added he, "is the knowledge of Hell."

So it came to pass. From the hem of Heaven's Highway an angel flew into
Wales; and the angel, having judged by his sight and his hearing,
returned to the Council Room and testified to the godliness of the Welsh
Nonconformists. "As difficult for me," he vowed, "to write the feathers
of my wings as the sum of their daily prayers."

"None has reached the Record Office," said Paul.

"They are always engaged in this bright business," the angel declared,
"and praising the Lord. And the number of the people is many and Heaven
will need be enlarged for their coming."

"Of a surety they pray?" asked Paul.

"Of a surety. And as they pray they quake terribly."

"The Romans prayed hardly," said Paul. "But they prayed to other gods."

"Wherever you stand on their land," asserted the angel, "you see a
temple."

"I exceedingly fear," Paul remarked, "that another Lord has dominion
over them."

The Prophets were alarmed, and they sent a company of angels over the
earth and a company under the earth; and the angels came back; one
company said: "We searched the swampy marges and saw neither a god nor a
heaven nor any prayer," and the other company said: "We probed the lofty
emptiness and we did not touch a god or a heaven or any prayer."

Paul was distressed and he reported his misgivings to God, and God
upbraided the Prophets for their sloth. "Is there no one who can do this
for me?" He cried. "Are all the cunning men in Hell? Shall I make all
Heaven drink the dregs of my fury? Burnish your rusted armor. Depart
into Hell and cry out: 'Is there one here who knows the Welsh
Nonconformists?' Choose the most crafty and release him and lead him
here."

Lots were cast and it fell to Moses to descend into Hell; and he stood
at the well, the water of which is harder than crystal, and he cried
out; and of the many that professed he chose Saint David, whom he
brought up to God.

"Visit your people," said God to the Saint, "and bring me their
prayers."

"Why should I be called?"

"It is my will. My Prophets have failed me, and if it is not done they
shall be destroyed."

David laughed. "From Hell comes a savior of the Prophets. In the middle
of my discourse at the Judgment Seat the Prophets stooped upon me. 'To
Hell with him,' they screamed."

"Perform faithfully," said the Lord, "and you shall remain in
Paradise."

"My Lord is gracious! I was a Prophet and the living believe that I am
with the saints. I will retire."

"Perform faithfully and you shall be of my Prophets."

Then God took away David's body and nailed it upon a wall, and He put
wings on the shoulders of his soul; and David darted through a cloud and
landed on earth, and having looked at the filthiness of the
Nonconformists in Wales he withdrew to London. But however actively he
tried he could not find a man of God nor the destination of the fearful
prayers of Welsh preachers, grocers, drapers, milkmen, lawyers, and
politicians.

Loth to go to Hell and put to a nonplus, David built a nest in a tree in
Richmond Park, and he paused therein to consider which way to proceed.
One day he was disturbed by the singing and preaching of a Welsh soldier
who had taken shelter from rain under the tree. David came down from
his nest, and when the mouth of the man was most open, he plunged into
the fellow's body. Henceforward in whatsoever place the soldier was
there also was David; and the soldier carried him to a clothier's shop
in Putney, the sign of the shop being written in this fashion:

J. PARKER LEWIS.
The Little (Gents. Mercer) Wonder.

Crossing the threshold, the soldier shouted: "How are you?"

The clothier, whose skin was as hide which had been scorched in a
tanner's yard, bent over the counter. "Man bach," he exclaimed, "glad am
I to see you. Pray will I now that you are all Zer Garnett." His
thanksgiving finished, he said: "Wanting a suit you do."

"Yes, and no," replied the soldier. "Cheap she must be if yes."

"You need one for certain. Shabby you are."

"This is a friendly call. To a low-class shop must a poor tommy go."

"Do you then not be cheated by an English swindler." The clothier raised
his thin voice: "Kate, here's a strange boy."

A pretty young woman, in spite of her snaggled teeth, frisked into the
room like a wanton lamb. Her brown hair was drawn carelessly over her
head, and her flesh was packed but loosely.

"Serious me," she cried, "Llew Eevans! Llew bach, how are you? Very big
has the army made you and strong."

"Not changed you are."

"No. The last time you came was to see the rabbit."

"Dear me, yes. Have you still got her?"

"She's in the belly long ago," said the clothier.

"I have another in her stead," said Kate. "A splendid one. Would you
like to fondle her?"

"Why, yez," answered the soldier.

"Drat the old animal," cried the clothier. "Too much care you give her,
Kate. Seven looks has the deacon from Capel King's Cross had of her and
he hasn't bought her yet."

As he spoke the clothier heaped garments on the counter.

"Put out your arms," he ordered Kate, "and take the suits to a room for
Llew to try on."

Kate obeyed, and Llew hymning "Moriah" took her round the waist and
embraced her, and the woman, hungering for love, gladly gave herself up.
Soon attired in a black frock coat, a black waistcoat, and black
trousers, Llew stepped into the shop.

"A champion is the rabbit," he said; "and very tame."

"If meat doesn't come down," said the clothier, "in the belly she'll be
as well."

"Let me know before you slay her. Perhaps I buy her. I will study her
again."

The clothier gazed upon Llew. "Tidy fit," he said.

"A bargain you give me."

"Why for you talk like that?" the clothier protested. "No profit can I
make on a Cymro. As per invoice is the cost. And a latest style bowler
hat I throw in."

Peering through Llew's body, Saint David saw that the dealer dealt
treacherously, and that the money which he got for the garments was two
pounds over that which was proper.

Llew walked away whistling. "A simple fellow is the black," he said to