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As I mentioned at the start of these memoirs it was a great change of language and religion to move from the Welsh Pant-Teg chapel to the largely English services of the Plough. One had to become accustomed to another translation of the Bible and learn new words and tunes from the "English Hymnary". I think my mother had quite a lot to do with the move. She was a daughter of the Race Farm ('race' as in 'mill-race'), Croes y Ceiliog, Pontypool and although she had learned to converse in Welsh, with tutoring from my father, carrying out the duties of a minister's wife was something of a strain. We, the sons, always spoke to her in English although we would speak Welsh amongst ourselves and of course with Dad. He came from Trelech, Carmarthen. He would invariably speak Welsh to all who had the slightest grasp of the language. I remember listening to many a conversation when a visitor would speak to him in English and he would sense that the visitor had some knowledge of the Welsh language and would answer or pose a question in Welsh without turning to English once.
The manse in Pant-Teg sheltered at the side of the huge chapel with the graveyard stretching around right to our back door, and the sun never reached our house from day to day. We children did not notice critically our surroundings, but my mother must have longed for the rich acres of eastern Monmouth, situated as she was in the grime, the coal tips and the refuse of the tin works. And yet on my father's side, preaching in English regularly from Sunday to Sunday taxed his patience and language. And not morning and evening alone. The custom in the Plough in those days was to hold a meeting on Sunday afternoon in a branch in the village of Cartref at the foot of the Beacons. A large car would pick him up every Sunday afternoon, with the result that Dad lost Sunday School almost every week. This caused him considerable vexation because in both Ynysybwl (his first church) and in Pant-Teg he had completed very important and successful work with children and young people.
The Plough was a very lively and energetic church with many young people to give things a prod, and there were good resources of many kinds for them. The "Guild" was very popular, meeting regularly through winter and spring with speakers, concerts, plays and socials, numerous games such as table-tennis and often a Cantata for the youngsters. All these took place in the Central Hall - a hall of considerable size behind the chapel with a stage, curtains and lights. I remember hearing John Owen y Fenni entertaining us there, and seeing the students of the Memorial College performing 'A Doll's House' (Ibsen). There was a Band of Hope for the smaller children and often Easter was celebrated by the performance of a Mass or Oratorio in the Chapel and with the help of other denominations and other districts. Certainly, the biggest 'turn-out' was the harvest Thanksgiving service. The Plough and Cartref in turn were full to capacity, many of the congregation of course turning out for the once only in the year! After the meeting there would be an invitation to refreshments. Well! I never saw, before or after, such a repast. Therer wouyld be very kind of meat, the most amazing variety of savories and cakes and we swam in cream - enough calories for a lifetime.
Oddly enough there was no other member of my age at that time in the Plough and so I would join a well-attended Sunday School class of young men (of some 18-25 age). Mr W. H. Price, the cobbler, was the teacher of the class - a kind welcoming man without much formal education apart from elementary school, but one who was learned in the scriptures and before him there were 8 or 10 very able young men, each one holding the teacher in great respect. After the teacher's opening words the discussion darted from person to person covering religious, political and sociological matters, expressed with deep conviction and often with healthy humour. From time to time Rendell Lewis, Principal Vernon Lewis's second son, would join the class when he was free from his studies in the London courts where he was preparing for a career as a barrister and he would invariably take the opposing argument, like a 'Devil's Advocate' in order to practice his skill as an attorney. After Sunday school we would go as a class for a walk by the riverside along the Promenade and continue the argument for another hour. Everyone foresaw a notable future for Rendell and I see him now through the eyes of memory in his black, pin-stripe suit, his bowler hat and his silver topped stick. When the was broke out Rendell immediately joined the RAF and his sudden death was a dreadful blow to his parents, Mr & Mrs Vernon Lewis.
Although I was not aware of it at the time, looking back, it must have been difficult for my father to preach before pillars of the Independent denomination, mainly the Staff of the Memorial College who would be present in the services when they had no engagement. People like Thomas Lewis (brother of Rev Elfed Lewis), Joseph Jones, Miall Edwards, John Evans, Vernon Lewis, D J Davies and Pennar Davies. As Secretary of the College for years Dad was always in some meeting or committee, and inevitably we children had a small part in the proceedings - running messages, posting letters and accompanying visitors to the College. I found Principal Lewis somewhat dry with very little to say to a child, but the others were kind and friendly. I knew that Vernon Lewis caused many a student's heart to flutter in fear but he would always stop on the road and have a conversation with us.
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