Page:My people stories of the peasantry of West Wales.djvu/89

 you not be a blockhead to throw away your house and one hundred of sovereigns a year.”

So Eben bach the Singershort, square, stooping, bushy, sandy hair falling over his forehead and shoulders like a sheaf of strawgave up his house, his one hundred sovereigns a year, and his charge, and he returned to the house of his mother. His name became a proverb and a byword. The deacons of Capel Sion prayed for him in private and in public, but the voice of the singer was silent.

On a day Ben Shop Draper journeyed to Hannah’s cottage.

“Eben, Eben,” he cried, “woeful is the errand I have to speech to you. The new ruler cannot keep the flock together.” “Ho, indeed.”

“You have sinned hardly against Capel Salem, Eben bach.”

“Don’t you say that now.”

“Iss, indeed. You took the temple in