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According To The Pattern
by
He composed a prayer of thankfulness and of sorrow; and this prayer he recited to the congregation which gathered at the graveside of the woman from Drefach.
Benshamin grew up in the way of Capel Dissenters. He slept with his father and ate apart from his sisters, for his mien was lofty. At the age of seven he knew every question and answer in the book “Mother’s Gift,” with sayings from which he scourged sinners; and at the age of eight he delivered from memory the Book of Job at the Seiet; at that age also he was put among the elders in the Sabbath School.
He advanced, waxing great in religion. On the nights of the Saying and Searching of the Word he was with the cunningest men, disputing with the preacher, stressing his arguments with his fingers, and proving his learning with phrases from the sermons of the saintly Shones Talysarn.
If one asked him: “What are you going, Ben Abel Deinol?” he always answered: “The errander of the White Gospel fach.”
His father communed with the preacher, who said: “Pity quite sinful if the boy is not in the pulpit.”
“Like that do I think as well too,” replied Abel. “Eloquent he is. Grand he is spouting prayers at his bed. Weep do I.”
Neighbors neglected their fields and barnyards to hear the lad’s shoutings to God. Once Ben opened his eyes and rebuked those who were outside his room.
“Shamed you are, not for certain,” he said to them. “Come in, boys Capel. Right you hear the Gospel fach. Youngish am I but old is my courtship of King Jesus who died on the tree for scamps of parsons.”
He shut his eyes and sang of blood, wood, white shirts, and thorns; of the throng that would arise from the burial-ground, in which there were more graves than molehills in the shire. He cried against the heathenism of the Church, the wickedness of Church tithes, and against ungodly book-prayers and short sermons.
Early Ben entered College Carmarthen, where his piety–which was an adage–was above that of any student. Of him this was said: “‘White Jesus bach is as plain on his lips as the purse of a big bull.'”
Brightness fell upon him. He had a name for the tearfulness and splendor of his eloquence. He could conduct himself fancifully: now he was Pharaoh wincing under the plagues, now he was the Prodigal Son longing to eat at the pigs’ trough, now he was the Widow of Nain rejoicing at the recovery of her son, now he was a parson in Nineveh squirming under the prophecy of Jonah; and his hearers winced or longed, rejoiced or squirmed. Congregations sought him to preach in their pulpits, and he chose such as offered the highest reward, pledging the richest men for his wage and the cost of his entertainment and journey. But Ben would rule over no chapel. “I wait for the call from above,” he said.
His term at Carmarthen at an end, he came to Deinol. His father met him in a doleful manner.
“An old boy very cruel is the Parson,” Abel whined. “Has he not strained Gwen for his tithes? Auction her he did and bought her himself for three pounds and half a pound.”
Ben answered: “Go now and say the next Saturday Benshamin Lloyd will give mouthings on tithes in Capel Dissenters.”
Ben stood in the pulpit, and spoke to the people of Capel Dissenters.
“How many of you have been to his church?” he cried. “Not one male bach or one female fach. Go there the next Sabbath, and the black muless will not say to you: ‘Welcome you are, persons Capel. But there’s glad am I to see you.’ A comic sermon you will hear. A sermon got with half-a-crown postal order. Ask Postman. Laugh highly you will and stamp on the floor. Funny is the Parson in the white frock. Ach y fy, why for he doesn’t have a coat preacher like Respecteds? Ask me that. From where does his Church come from? She is the inheritance of Satan. The only thing he had to leave, and he left her to his friends the parsons. Iss-iss, earnest affair is this. Who gives him his food? We. Who pays for Vicarage? We. Who feeds his pony? We. His cows? We. Who built his church? We. With stones carted from our quarries and mortar messed about with the tears of our mothers and the blood of our fathers.”