THE CHRONICLE OF CLEMENDY
and fruits as were not to be seen elsewhere in all Gwent. Indeed he invented that great green plum, as big as an egg, that melts in the mouth as sweet as honey, and is rightly called "Soif de Dru," or "Drogo's Thirst."
And the moral of this history is this—Leave old jars on the shelf. It seems to me a good one.
And when the shadows began to climb up from the brook Gwithian and the valley of Deep Dendraeth, and to give coolness to the western hills; far away I heard a horn winding, and knew the notes for the call of Nick Leonard, of Uske. But presently two other bugles joined in the music and told me that Tom Bamfylde of Abergavenny, and Phil Ambrose of Penryhayle were also journeying to Clemendy. After the horns came the noise of horses' feet; so I went forth to meet my guests and saw them soon coming at a sober pace, one after another along the depths of the road. So to greeting and to supper and wine-reward for the journey done; which with certain pipes of tobacco and a canon sung made us fit for no unwelcome rest. But on the morrow we agreed to be merry, remembering that we were officers of the Cwrw Dda, having Free Sokage and dwelling in Terra Sabulosa.
