and a tradition, and that put mettle in their characters. And hard though their labour was, from those slopes and within the old chapel's walls a few caught a glimpse of Jerusalem's towers in the clouds of the setting sun, and saw the sea of glass shining between them and the far horizon.
Lleufer (4, Gwanwyn, 1948)
T. J. Morgan
Although I was taken to the circus only once as a child, and once to a menagerie, when some time ago we saw a circus advertized as coming to the town of P—, 1 we had the feeling that the War had deprived our children of the great amusements we had regularly enjoyed in our own childhoods, and that we therefore had a duty to take them there, to make up for the loss in some part. And so it was arranged that we should go. According to the advertisement, there were to be jesters, an acrobat riding bareback on a prancing horse, a dog that could dance, doves like Branwen's 2 starlings (although that wasn't how the poster put it), a female juggler with a Chinese name, and so on; and to crown it all, there was going to be the most ferocious lioness in the whole world, and alone in its topless cage, the bravest of men and the most courageous of women would be suspended from ropes, performing acrobatic wonders within just a hair's breadth of those terrible jaws.
It would be an exaggeration to say that the place was packed out — and there I go, despite myself, starting to libel and make fun of the pitiful gaucherie claiming to be a miracle of entertainment, dexterity, and daring. And rather than proceed with my jeering, it would be more seemly if I rose to the heights of trivial moralising. So my first observation is this, that advertisements are now completely different from the things they advertise, and what's more, that the dissimilarity between the two is taken for granted, and that this is equally true of infallible drugs and grand concerts and letters of recommendation alike. These letters worry me, and the responsibility