Welsh Journals

Digression into Miracle By ROLAND MATHIAS THOMAS BUSHELL sat in his rooms at the sign of the Bear not a little disillusioned. He had posted up to London from Cardigan- shire a few days before to expedite his petition before the House. Too well he knew that nothing was accomplished either at Court or at St. Stephen's Chapel save by lobbying of the most untiring sort. From Aberystwyth or from Enstone he might petition for ever, only to have his travel-stained plea lose its way at last in the everlasting dust of anterooms. As it was, Milord the Secretary of State Windebank had been short enough with him. Plainly he was becoming weary of his virtuosity. Nor could he hope more from the King himself. No longer dare he catch the royal eye by outdoing every page in Lord Bacon's service. These were no days of flesh-coloured satins and buttons of gold. All his world rested upon the dull strokes of silver drawn heavily through the Welsh hills.. Of what use, he reflected wearily, was the grant of the mines, and the unprecedented right too of minting himself at Aberystwyth the silver he won, when every day brought, not success, but fresh expense ? He trembled at the intelligence he had by every post. No word came of his new working above Talybont. But of the malice of Sir Richard Pryse of Gogerddan his correspondents had much to say. Every day, it seemed, Pryse and his fellow landowners sent their tenants up to block his levels, fling rubbish into his pumps and discourage the miners who, heaven knew, needed no such discouragement. Even his discoveries were rendered of little or no value. Turf would serve for charke for smelting as well as wood. But Pryse would not let him cut turf. Already he had laboured for upwards of four years with small result. Already he was laughed at by his enemies and pitied by his friends. Bushell shivered greyly. The injunction against Pryse must go through or ruin as stark as the hills faced him. What was new from the House ? And what from Talybont ? He shivered again and settled back in his chair to wait for patience. That evening in Talybont the sun set as dully as ever it did on an .evening in June. The air scarcely moved. A deadness was on the hills. The steep converging slopes were pitted with shafts, mostly fallen in and unfenced. Bushell had not bothered to stake them and keep them clear of rubble because he favoured the new German method