Older residents
remember a coach-road under the promontory, where now there is nothing
but rock and seaweed, and look forward gloomily to a day when Borth will
be "disturbed;" for so they euphemistically describe the catastrophe
which is finally to wash it away. But an acquaintance of ours, who
claims one of the longest memories in the place, is more confident. He
has known Borth seventy years and as he has never seen it destroyed
during all that time, does not think it will be now. His own house is
safe on the hill of Old Borth, so he judges with all the calm of
conscious security. His conviction, however, is not shared by his
townsfolk, who were soon busy holding meetings, and considering schemes
for the provision of something better than these moral guarantees.
Heartily do we hope that funds and measures will be found to save our
friends from another and more calamitous "disturbance." But a letter
from Borth, a year later, speaks of the sea as again threatening their
security. "We are not afraid of him, though," the correspondent, one of
our landladies, devoutly adds, "for he is under a Master.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115