He then asked me whether I thought the militia would be again called out.

"Nothing more probable," said I.
"And where would they be sent to ?" "Perhaps to Ireland," was my answer, whereupon he started up with another Myn Diawl, expressing the greatest dread of being sent to Iwerddon.
"You ought to rejoice in your chance of going there," said I, "Iwerddon is a beautiful country, and abounds with whisky." "And the Irish ?" said he.
"Hearty, jolly fellows," said I, "if you know how to manage them, and all gentlemen." Here he became very violent, saying that I did not speak truth, for that he had seen plenty of Irish camping amidst the hills, that the men were half naked and the women were three parts so, and that they carried their children on their backs.

He then said that he hoped somebody would speedily kill Nicholas, in order that the war might be at an end and himself not sent to Iwerddon.

He then asked if I thought Cronstadt could be taken.

I said I believed it could, provided the hearts of those who were sent to take it were in the right place.
"Where do you think the hearts of those are who are gone against it ?" said he--speaking with great vehemence.
I made no other answer than by taking my glass and drinking.
His companion now looking at our habiliments which were in rather a dripping condition asked John Jones if we had come from far.
"We have been to Pont y Meibion," said Jones, "to see the chair of Huw Morris," adding that the Gwr Boneddig was a great admirer of the songs of the Eos Ceiriog.
He had no sooner said these words than the intoxicated militiaman started up, and striking the table with his fist said: "I am a poor stone-cutter--this is a rainy day and I have come here to pass it in the best way I can.