Welsh Journals

502 Old Price's Remains. Next day we yoked her to a plough ; there never was such folly : Her pulled the plough, and boy and all, slap through a hedge of holly! To harrow then we put her : any better ? not a bit— The harrow lay, for many a day, tines uppards, in a pit! Some said " a cart, with sacks of wheat, was sure to fix the brute," But we was fixed more likely, for her wouldn't stir a foot. In fetching timber her was worst ; one day particularly, Her dragged a hoak, with branches on, thro' fields of wheat and barley! And so, at last, we understood the oud pertikler toad Thought it a deal genteeler work to jog along the road. It was no use to fight it out, so we agreed to make her A saddle oss for Her and me, such as her was—plague take her. Her might have made a hunter too—I'll tell you why I think so, (I'm quite in earnest, I declare—what makes you fellows wink so ?) When Her and me was younger, (for we was, you may depend,) Her took a ride one morning, just to call upon a friend, But so it chanced, Her never saw her friend that day— for why ? The Sundom harriers, worse luck, just happened to come by. Her pricked her ears, her tossed her yead, her snuffed, her staared around, Trying to hear, or see, or smell, where they was to be found. Her wasn't long in finding them, and they had found a hare,