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Anglo-Welsh » By A. W. WADE-EVANS. ONE reads of the Anglo-Irish literary movement that its main per- sonages were not notable for rabid revolutionary tendencies but all their activity was building up the atmosphere of an independent and integral Ireland, thinking her own thoughts, making her own plays and stories and poems, digging deep into that field of precious Gaelic memories and traditions,' assured as they were of the necessity of nationality in the making of a literature.' Surely this is the cue for all would-be Anglo-Welsh writers and artists in general-digging deep into the Welsh past, re-capturing its spirit, and interpreting the present parlous state of the Welsh nation in its light. Or say, what other reason can there be for their existence ? It is said of Lloyd George (with what truth I cannot tell) that there was a short interval in which he aimed to be the Parnell of Wales.' If this was so, it was indeed a vain hope, for the Welsh nation was asleep with swarms of sectaries and London-aspiring politicians creeping over its prostrate body. There was no more chance for the Wales of 50 years ago to produce a Parnell than there is today for it to produce a de Valera. The best it could do was a Lloyd George or a Jim Thomas. The parlous state of the Welsh nation-had I the talents of a novelist I might conjure up a young waitress in the town of Chepstow, who being asked by a stranger in what land he was, whether in Wales or in England, would reply On the borders, Sir.' Nor would any other answer come out of her except On the borders.' She would be of Chepstow as too her forbears, all of them on the borders.' When asked her name she would say' Miss Jones.' And I would endeavour to exhibit her in subtle fashion as a product of Welsh history, a Welsh young lady of the Twentieth Century, ashamed of her country. Or I would direct my artistic skill to a Welsh nobleman of Welsh surname and Welsh title. I would make him to be brought up by non- Welsh nurses and refined governesses in the heart of a Welsh-speaking countryside, to be sent to school at Bournemouth (of all places), then to Eton, then to Christchurch, Oxford. On coming of age he would be hailed by scores of Welsh tenants and their families, whose language he could not speak. At 23 he would be a Member of Parliament. At 43 he would be writing letters to the Western Mail to ask someone or anyone