loquent he is. Grand
he is spouting prayers at his bed. Weep do I."

Neighbors neglected their fields and barnyards to hear the lad's
shoutings to God. Once Ben opened his eyes and rebuked those who were
outside his room.

"Shamed you are, not for certain," he said to them. "Come in, boys
Capel. Right you hear the Gospel fach. Youngish am I but old is my
courtship of King Jesus who died on the tree for scamps of parsons."

He shut his eyes and sang of blood, wood, white shirts, and thorns; of
the throng that would arise from the burial-ground, in which there were
more graves than molehills in the shire. He cried against the heathenism
of the Church, the wickedness of Church tithes, and against ungodly
book-prayers and short sermons.

Early Ben entered College Carmarthen, where his piety--which was an
adage--was above that of any student. Of him this was said: "'White
Jesus bach is as plain on his lips as the purse of a big bull.'"

Brightness fell upon him. He had a name for the tearfulness and splendor
of his eloquence. He could conduct himself fancifully: now he was
Pharaoh wincing under the plagues, now he was the Prodigal Son longing
to eat at the pigs' trough, now he was the Widow of Nain rejoicing at
the recovery of her son, now he was a parson in Nineveh squirming under
the prophecy of Jonah; and his hearers winced or longed, rejoiced or
squirmed. Congregations sought him to preach in their pulpits, and he
chose such as offered the highest reward, pledging the richest men for
his wage and the cost of his entertainment and journey. But Ben would
rule over no chapel. "I wait for the call from above," he said.

His term at Carmarthen at an end, he came to Deinol. His father met him
in a doleful manner.

"An old boy very cruel is the Parson," Abel whined. "Has he not strained
Gwen for his tithes? Auction her he did and bought her himself for three
pounds and half a pound."

Ben answered: "Go now and say the next Saturday Benshamin Lloyd will
give mouthings on tithes in Capel Dissenters."

Ben stood in the pulpit, and spoke to the people of Capel Dissenters.

"How many of you have been to his church?" he cried. "Not one male bach
or one female fach. Go there the next Sabbath, and the black muless will
not say to you: 'Welcome you are, persons Capel. But there's glad am I
to see you.' A comic sermon you will hear. A sermon got with
half-a-crown postal order. Ask Postman. Laugh highly you will and stamp
on t