THE GLORY THAT WAS SION’S
muscles of his cheeks moved nervously under his red beard. Then he arose and saying, “Fair day, boys bach,” buttoned his frock-coat and grasped his varnished stick, and left the shop. Rhys and Bertha stood by, and when he was gone they stood in the way of the door and watched the high, thin, tall-hatted figure treading heavily down the road towards Capel Sion; and at the week-night Meeting for Prayer every one there knew that though the Respected Bryn-Bevan was blessed with much wisdom, understanding, and knowledge, the Big Man had loaded him with a burden heavy to bear.
Never within Capel Sion, nor within the boundaries of the parish, has been heard such a plea as that which was spoken by Bryn-Bevan that night. In the language of Adam and Eve he petitioned that his brother Twm Tybach would find repentance in the fulness of time, so that Death would find his putrid body cleansed
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