ner, of the parish
of Glanwern, in the county of Merioneth, and my father baptised me by
his own name; so that John is Hugh, and Jones is Anwyl, indeed. I
mention this at starting, to prevent my yarn being waterlogged before it
reaches mid-ocean.

Well, mates, a beautiful spot is the village of Glanwern. The broad
river Mawdach, which runs between the clefts of the mountains, d'ye see,
and is overhung with silver birch on either side, separates us--that is,
the Glanwernians, indeed--from the town of Barmouth.

It's a many year since these eyes beheld that familiar spot; yet, my
lads, I never got becalmed, or down with a fever, or otherwise on my
beam-ends, but what my thoughts turned to old Glanwern--for it's the
brightest place, with the darkest memories, I ever knew.

Yes, indeed, I think I see it now. And you won't go for to suppose,
because my eyes are all a-leak, like a brace of scuppers, that I've
therefore lost my trim. After all, 'tain't Glanwern. It's what
happened to me there, when I was a youth as gay as a poppy, with the
hand of a man and the face of a girl.

That's the mischief, messmates.

'Twould have been happier for Hugh Anwyl if he'd been as ugly in those
days as John Jones is at this moment; for, you see, my lads, when I was
quite young, I got rather to like a girl called Gwen--Gwendoline that
is; we, indeed, called her Gwen--Thomas. She was next-door neighbour to
my old dad's cottage, and she'd a deuce of a knack of fondling on you
without so much as touching a button of your coat.

Yes, Gwen was one of the sort that act like magnets to a seaman's lips.
I never loved her, d'ye see; but I was flattered by such a smart craft
coming alongside, and--well, indeed,--I played the fool. I kissed her,
because it seemed to do her good. And she--darn her cunning head!--she
meant it all! I know that she'd have done anything, indeed, if I'd but
have passed the word. But I didn't. I never so much as talked about
the parson.

It was about a year after this, that Rhoda Howell, the miller's
daughter, came home from the boarding-school at Dolgelly, full of music,
and English, and French, and all them things.

My stars! she was a picture, she was! I--that's to say, Hugh Anwyl, you
know--was taken all aback, and felt something or other dance the
double-shuffle under my waistcoat pocket.

Well, mates, we fell to what you may call flirting. I asked her to go
for a walk, and she, indeed, consented;