My People - Stories of the Peasantry of West Wales #222645

Well, well, then. How can I tell you? Sadrach put his fingers through the thin beard which covered the Opening of his waistcoat, closed his eyes, and mur mured a prayer. Your mother Achsah is not what she should be. Indeed to goodness, now, what disgrace this is! Is it not breaking my heart 'p You did hear how I said to the nice Big Man that I was like Job Achsah is mad.