ABSTRACT
It was near two o’clock in the a ernoon, in the middle of December, when Mr. Evans le Mr. Muckworm’s. He had rode thither twenty miles from his own house that morning, and the hospitality of Muckworm had not, as we have seen, o ered him the refreshment even of a glass of wine. And poor Blackbird had fared no better; for though he was admitted into what they called the stable, yet for any good he got there he might as well have been in a pound. He had not carried his master above ve miles in his way home, when the night began to approach, and, what was worse, it brought with it a violent tempest of wind and sleet. Poor Evans, who had not tasted a morsel since he le home, began to droop under the uneasy sensations both of cold and/ hunger. He was a stranger in that part of the country, and long looked out for some friendly roof, that might at least a ord him shelter; but nothing appeared before him but a waste and dreary common. – At length, as it was growing almost quite dark, he espied a light which seemed to glimmer through the window of some little cottage; and honest Blackbird making an e ort to go down the lane which led to it, the worthy curate took his advice, and in a few minutes arrived at a human dwelling. – ough it was but a cottage, and that too of the meanest kind, yet the nding it was now a comfort; and Evans gently tapping at the door, it was opened by an old woman seemingly about sixty years of age. ‘Honest woman,’ said Evans, ‘can you give shelter to a poor benighted old man, who will heartily thank you for the liberty of your roof and re?’ ‘Yes, name of God, can I,’ said the old woman, ‘and a thousand welcomes; and to your horse too. – Johnny, come here, boy, and take the gentleman’s/ horse, and put him up beside the cow, and give him a lock of hay.’ ‘God bless you, my good woman!’ said Evans, ‘and you too, my pretty boy!’ said he to the child, who was about ten years old. ‘I do not know what I should have done if I had not met with you.’ ‘ e night is parlous cold,’ said the dame; ‘but walk in, sir, and warm yourself at the re: the cottage is small, but it is clean, and you are kindly welcome to all it can a ord.’ – Evans gladly accepted this friendly invitation, and, walking in, found a clear re on a clean hearth; and sitting down in a straw chair which was at hand, he felt himself a thousand times more comfortable than he could have been in the best room in Muckworm’s
house. e good woman, who now saw by his dress that he was a clergyman, redoubled her attention; for, notwithstanding the poverty of the Welch clergy, which is known even to a proverb, yet there is no country in which the ministerial character meets more respect. ‘Lord bless your/ reverence,’ said she, ‘what brings you out such an evening as this, and where have you dined?’ –
‘Indeed, my good woman,’ said Evans, ‘I have hardly tasted food to-day.’ ‘Name of God,’ said she, ‘not tasted food! – I’se warrant you’ve been at Mr. Muckworm’s.’ ‘You have just hit it,’ said Evans, ‘I have come from there indeed.’ ‘Aye, name of God! I thought so: he’s a parlous rich man, but he would skin a louse for the hide. Well, God forgive him! but if it had not been for him, I need not have been here to-day.’ ‘Why, did he ever injure you?’ said Evans. ‘No, name of God, I must not say that – he sought but his own, to be sure; though it killed my poor husband, and brought me to ruin.’ ‘How is that, my poor woman?’ said Evans; ‘how is that?’ ‘I’ll tell your reverence all by and by,’ said the good woman; ‘but rst I will get you something to eat, for I am sure you stand in need of it.’
