She then went to John Jones, and told him in English that he might attend us, provided he took off his shoes; poor John, however, only smiled and said "Dim Saesneg!" "You must speak to him in your native language," said I, "provided you wish him to understand you--he has no English." "I am speaking to him in my native language," said the young housekeeper, with another smile--"and if he has no English, I have no Welsh." "Then you are English ?" said I.
"Yes," she replied, "a native of London." "Dear me," said I.

"Well, it's no bad thing to be English after all; and as for not speaking Welsh, there are many in Wales who would be glad to have much less Welsh than they have." I then told John Jones the condition on which he might attend us, whereupon he took off his shoes with great glee and attended us, holding them in his hand.
We presently went upstairs, to what the housekeeper told us was the principal drawing-room, and a noble room it was, hung round with the portraits of kings and queens, and the mighty of the earth.

Here, on canvas, was noble Mary, the wife of William of Orange, and her consort by her side, whose part like a true wife she always took.

Here was wretched Mary of Scotland, the murderess of her own lord.

Here were the two Charleses and both the Dukes of Ormond--the great Duke who fought stoutly in Ireland against Papist and Roundhead; and the Pretender's Duke who tried to stab his native land, and died a foreign colonel.