Day Two Hundred and Fifteen

Dew Cansves Dedh ha Pemdhek

De Sadorn, pajwora mis Est.

Saturday, 4^th August.

Harth! Harth! Harth! Ma’n kei na a’m muskeg. Ma’n kentrevogyon o moas mes, ma’n kentrevogyon o toas tre, ma tüs erel o moas war an vownder ahes dres agan yet. Pub pres an kei a harth. Ma nebonen o cowsel e’n nessa lowarth, ma’n letherwas o trei letherow, ma’n gentrevoges hag hy mab o marhogeth. Pub pres ma’n kei o hartha. Nag ewa o hei. Thera vy o qwitha ortho rag o mergh. Ma va o cavos tol e’n ke ha scappya. Hedna ew lowr!  Gwra doas, a vergh vy, ha’y gemeres dhe ves.

Bark! Bark! Bark! That dog drives me mad. The neighbours are going out, the neighbours are going out, other people are going along the lane past our gate. Every time the dog barks. Somebody is speaking in the next garden, the postman is bringing letters, the neighbour and her son are riding. Every time the dog barks. He is not my dog. I am looking after him for my daughter. He finds a hole in the fence and escapes. That is enough! Come, my daughter, and take him away.