Nothing to Pay

'The only things that bring ineffable contentment are those for which there is nothing to pay; all others breed regrets' So runs the philosophy of Amos Morgan, budding Welsh draper and prince of misers at the turn of the century- snipping and scrimping his way inexorably eastwards from a Nonconformist pocket of Cardiganshire to the dusty counters of Kentish Town. It was a career ladder dominated by petty rules and punitive fines, ascended only by the endurance of affrontry. Others grumble: 'I'd like to be an actor', 'I'd like to be a jockey... anything but a bloomin' draper.' But not so Amos, who deals out his flannelettes with reverent servility - and counts his pennies with religious zeal. Even his choice of wife is made out of consideration for thrift, there being nothing to pay for the hard labour of one such as Sara Owen. Amos and Sara are wed on a Sunday - trade being slack on that day. Caradoc Evans scandalized his countrymen with what H. G. Wells commended as the 'brutal thoroughness' of his realism and satire. He captured the Welsh as Flann O'Brien did the Irish - with an uncanny ear for dialect, fierce wit and a vigorous originality. 'For page after page Mr Evans holds you, as the Ancient Mariner held the Wedding Guest' Punch 'He knew more about the Welsh than they did themselves and his savage satire enters the Welsh mind successfully and completely' Spectator