Mae'n dda genny' i fi dd'od miwn. Shawdwr o'wn i'n d'od ma's o Gymru, nid shawdwr o'm bodd, chwaith, cofiwch, ac wedi wmladd bron ymhobman yn New England. Fe geso 'nala'n brisner pan ildiws Cornwallis yn Yorktown. Newydd dd'od yn rhydd wy 'i 'nawr, ac yn aros am long i fynd 'nol i Gymru."
"Pŵr ffelo! shwd mae arnoch chi? O's arian gyta chi? Wa'th ma' genny' beth er ma' morw'n gyflog wy i, ond ch'i a'u cewch a'ch greso.
Hyn oll a ddywedodd hi ar un anadl, ond fel pe â'i henaid yn ei llygaid. Pan gafodd Wat ei dafod, ebe yntau'n gynnes, Can diolch ichi, merch i. 'Do's isha dim arna' i felna. Ond, ar 'fened i, 'rych yn true blue. Anghofia i byth 'ch cynnyg caretig.'
Ar hyn daeth gŵr y ty i'r golwg o rywle, ac ebe'r weinyddes wrtho, "Mr. Van Hart, this gentleman is not only from Wales, but from the valley next to mine. Allow me to introduce him to you.
"But I forget I do not know his name myself yet."
"Edmunds—Watkin Edmunds, late of the Royal 24th," ebe'r Cymro.
"The 24th!"
Let me see, was it not in this place years ago? And since you mention it, fancy I've seen you yourself somewhere before, Mr. Edmunds."
Quite possible—indeed I am certain of it, Mr. Van Hart, for don't you remember that little affair with the Hessian corporal in this very house?"
By Jove! so I do! Shake again, Mr. Edmunds, I am delighted. Miss Williams! please fetch us in two more drinks, will you?"
