IV.

IV.Through the Rev. Daniel Lewis, incumbent of Bettws Garmon, I was directed to Mr. Samuel Rhys Williams, of the Post Office of that place, who has kindly given me the result of his inquiries when writing on the subject of the antiquities of the neighbourhood for a competition at a literary meeting held there a few years ago. He tells me that he got the following short tale from a native of Drws y Coed, whose name is Margaret Williams. She has been living at Bettws Garmon for many years, and is now over eighty. He does not know whether the story is in print or not, but he is certain that Margaret Williams never saw it, even if it be. He further thinks he has heard it from another person, to wit a man over seventy-seven yearsof age, who has always lived at Drws y Coed, in the parish of Beđgelert:—Y mae hanes am fab i amaethwr a breswyliai yn yr Ystrad20, Betws Garmon21, pan yn dychwelyd adref o daith yn hwyr un noswaith, đarfod iđo weled cwmni o’r Tylwyth Teg ynghanol eu hafiaeth a’u glođest. Syfrdanwyd y ỻanc yn y fan gan degwch anghymarol un o’r rhianod hyn, fel y beiđiođ neidio i ganol y cylch, a chymeryd ei eilun gydag ef. Wedi iđi fod yn trigo gydag ef yn ei gartref am ysbaid, cafođ ganđi ađaw bod yn wraig iđo ar amodau neiỻduol. Un o’r amodau hyn ydoeđ, na byđai iđo gyffwrđ ynđi ag un math o haiarn. Bu yn wraig iđo, a ganwyd iđynt đau o blant. Un diwrnod yr oeđ y gwr yn y maes yn ceisio dal y ceffyl; wrth ei weled yn ffaelu, aeth y wraig ato i’w gynorthwyo, a phan oeđ y march yn carlamu heibio goỻyngođ yntau y ffrwyn o’i law, er mwyn ceisio ei atal heibio; a phwy a darawođ ond ei wraig, yr hon a điflannođ yn y fan aỻan o’i olwg?‘The story goes, that the son of a farmer, who lived at the Ystrad in Bettws Garmon, when returning home from a journey, late in the evening, beheld a company of fairies in the middle of their mirth and jollity. The youth was at once bewildered by the incomparable beauty of one of these ladies, so that he ventured to leap into the circle and take his idol away with him. After she had tarried awhile with him at his home, he prevailed on her, on special conditions, to become his wife. One of these conditions was that he should not touch her with iron of any description. She becamehis wife, and two children were born to them. One day the husband was in the field trying to catch the horse; seeing him unsuccessful, the wife went to him to help him, and, when the horse was galloping past him, he let go the bridle at him in order to prevent him from passing; but whom should he strike but his wife, who vanished out of his sight on the spot.’Just as I was engaged in collecting these stories in 1881, a correspondent sent me a copy of the Ystrad tale as published by the late bard and antiquary, the Rev. Owen Wyn Jones, better known in Wales by his bardic name of Glasynys22, in theBrython23for 1863, p. 193. I will not attempt to translate Glasynys’ poetic prose with all its compound adjectives, but it comes to this in a few words. One fine sunny morning, as the young heir of Ystrad was busied with his sheep on the side of Moel Eilio, he met a very pretty girl, and when he got home he told the folks there of it. A few days afterwards he met her again, and this happened several times, when he mentioned it to his father, who advisedhim to seize her when he next met her. The next time he met her he proceeded to do so, but before he could take her away, a little fat old man came to them and begged him to give her back to him, to which the youth would not listen. The little man uttered terrible threats, but the heir of Ystrad would not yield, so an agreement was made between them, that the latter was to have the girl to wife until he touched her skin with iron, and great was the joy both of the son and his parents in consequence. They lived together for many years; but once on a time, on the evening of the Bettws Fair, the wife’s horse became restive, and somehow, as the husband was attending to the horse, the stirrup touched the skin of her bare leg, and that very night she was taken away from him. She had three or four children, and more than one of their descendants, as Glasynys maintains, were known to him at the time he wrote in 1863. Glasynys regards this as the same tale which is given by Williams of Ỻandegai, to whom we shall refer later; and he says that he heard it scores of times when he was a lad.Lastly, I happened to mention these legends last summer among others to the Rev. Owen Davies, curate of Ỻanberis, a man who is well versed in Welsh literature, and thoroughly in sympathy with everything Welsh. Mr. Davies told me that he knew a tale of the sort from his youth, as current in the parishes of Ỻanỻechid and Ỻandegai, near Bangor. Not long afterwards he visited his mother at his native place, in Ỻanỻechid, in order to have his memory of it refreshed; and he also went to the Waen Fawr, on the other side of Carnarvon, where he had the same legend told him with the different localities specified. The following is the Waen Fawr version, of which I give the Welsh as I have had it from Mr. Davies, and as it wasrelated, according to him, some forty years ago in the valley of Nant y Bettws, near Carnarvon:—Ar brydnawngwaith hyfryd yn Hefin, aeth ỻanc ieuanc gwrol-đewr ac anturiaethus, sef etifeđ a pherchennog yr Ystrad, i lan afon Gwyrfai, heb fod yn nepeỻ o’i chychwyniad o lyn Caweỻyn, ac a ymguđiođ yno mewn dyryslwyn, sef ger y fan y byđai poblach y cotiau cochion—y Tylwyth Teg—yn arfer dawnsio. Yr ydoeđ yn noswaith hyfryd loergannog, heb un cwmwl i gau ỻygaid y Ỻoer, ac anian yn đistaw dawedog, ođigerth murmuriad ỻeđf y Wyrfai, a swn yr awel ysgafndroed yn rhodio brigau deiliog y coed. Ni bu yn ei ymguđfa ond dros ychydig amser, cyn cael difyrru o hono ei olygon a dawns y teulu dedwyđ. Wrth syỻu ar gywreinrwyđ y đawns, y chwim droadau cyflym, yr ymgyniweiriad ysgafn-droediog, tarawođ ei lygaid ar las lodes ieuanc, dlysaf, harđaf, lunieiđiaf a welođ er ei febyd. Yr oeđ ei chwim droadau a ỻedneisrwyđ ei hagweđion wedi tanio ei serch tu ag ati i’r fath rađau, fel ag yr oeđ yn barod i unrhyw anturiaeth er mwyn ei henniỻ yn gydymaith iđo ei hun. O’i ymguđfa dywyỻ, yr oeđ yn gwylio pob ysgogiad er mwyn ei gyfleustra ei hun. Mewn mynud, yn đisymwth đigon, rhwng pryder ac ofn, ỻamneidiođ fel ỻew gwrol i ganol cylch y Tylwyth Teg, ac ymafaelođ a dwylaw cariad yn y fun luniaiđ a daniođ ei serch, a hynny, pan oeđ y Tylwyth dedwyđ yn nghanol nwyfiant eu dawns. Cofleidiođ hi yn dyner garedig yn ei fynwes wresog, ac aeth a hi i’w gartref—i’r Ystrad. Ond diflannođ ei chyd-đawnsyđion fel anadl Gorphennaf, er ei chroch đolefau am gael ei rhyđhau, a’i hymegnion diflino i đianc o afael yr hwn a’i hoffođ. Mewn anwylder mawr, ymđygođ y ỻanc yn dyner odiaethol tu ag at y fun deg, ac yr oeđ yn orawyđus i’w chadw yn ei olwg ac yn ei feđiant. Ỻwyđođ drwy ei dynerwch tu ag ati i gael ganđi ađaw dyfod yn forwyn iđo yn yr Ystrad. A morwyn ragorol oeđ hi. Godrai deirgwaith y swm arferol o laeth ođiarbob buwch, ac yr oeđ yr ymenyn heb bwys arno. Ond er ei hoỻ daerni, nis gaỻai mewn un mođ gael ganđi đyweud ei henw wrtho. Gwnaeth lawer cais, ond yn gwbl ofer. Yn đamweiniol ryw dro, wrth yrruBrithen a’r Benwen i’r borfa,a hi yn noswaith loergan, efe a aeth i’r man ỻe yr arferai y Tylwyth Teg fyned drwy eu campau yng ngoleuni’r Ỻoer wen. Y tro hwn eto, efe a ymguđiođ mewn dyryslwyn, a chlywođ y Tylwyth Teg yn dywedyd y naiỻ wrth y ỻaỻ—‘Pan oeđym ni yn y ỻe hwn y tro diweđaf, dygwyd ein chwaer Penelope ođiarnom gan un o’r marwolion.’ Ar hynny, dychwelođ y ỻencyn adref, a’i fynwes yn ỻawn o falchder cariad, o herwyđ iđo gael gwybod enw ei hoff forwyn, yr hon a synnođ yn aruthr, pan glywođ ei meistr ieuanc yn ei galw wrth ei henw. Ac am ei bod yn odiaethol dlos, a ỻuniaiđ, yn fywiog-weithgar, a medrus ar bob gwaith, a bod popeth yn ỻwyđo dan ei ỻaw, cynygiođ ei hun iđi yn wr—y celai fod yn feistres yr Ystrad, yn ỻe bod yn forwyn. Ond ni chydsyniai hi a’i gais ar un cyfrif; ond bod braiđ yn bendrist oherwyđ iđo wybod ei henw. Fođ bynnag, gwedi maith amser, a thrwy ei daerineb diflino, cydsyniođ, ond yn amodol. Ađawođ đyfod yn wraig iđo, ar yr amod canlynol, sef, ‘Pa bryd bynnag y tarawai ef hi â haiarn, yr elai ymaith ođi wrtho, ac na đychwelai byth ato mwy.’ Sicrhawyd yr amod o’i du yntau gyda pharodrwyđ cariad. Buont yn cyd-fyw a’u gilyđ yn hapus a chysurus lawer o flynyđoeđ, a ganwyd iđynt fab a merch, y rhai oeđynt dlysaf a ỻunieiđiaf yn yr hoỻ froyđ. Ac yn rhinweđ ei medrusrwyđ a’i deheurwyđ fel gwraig gaỻ, rinweđol, aethant yn gyfoethog iawn—yn gyfoethocach na neb yn yr hoỻ wlad. Heblaw ei etifeđiaeth ei hun—Yr Ystrad, yr oeđ yn ffarmio hoỻ ogleđ-barth Nant y Betws, ac ođi yno i ben yr Wyđfa, ynghyd a hoỻ Gwm Brwynog, yn mhlwyf Ỻanberis. Ond, ryw điwrnod,yn anffortunus đigon aeth y đau i’r đol i đal y ceffyl, a chan fod y ceffylyn braiđ yn wyỻt ac an-nof, yn rhedeg ođi arnynt, taflođ y gwr y ffrwyn mewn gwyỻtineb yn ei erbyn, er ei atal, ac ar bwy y disgynnođ y ffrwyn, ond ar Penelope, y wraig! Diflannođ Penelope yn y fan, ac ni welođ byth mo honi. Ond ryw noswaith, a’r gwynt yn chwythu yn oer o’r gogleđ, daeth Penelope at ffenestr ei ystafeỻ wely, a dywedođ wrtho am gymmeryd gofal o’r plant yn y geiriau hyn:Rhag bod anwyd ar fy mab,Yn rhođ rhowch arno gób ei dad;Rhag bod anwyd ar liw’r can,Rhođwch arni bais ei mham.Ac yna ciliođ, ac ni chlywyd na siw na miw byth yn ei chylch.For the sake of an occasional reader who does not know Welsh, I add a summary of it in English.One fine evening in the month of June a brave, adventurous youth, the heir of Ystrad, went to the banks of the Gwyrfai, not far from where it leaves Cweỻyn Lake, and hid himself in the bushes near the spot where the folks of the Red Coats—the fairies—were wont to dance. The moon shone forth brightly without a cloud to intercept her light; all was quiet save where the Gwyrfai gently murmured on her bed, and it was not long before the young man had the satisfaction of seeing the fair family dancing in full swing. As he gazed on the subtle course of the dance, his eyes rested on a damsel, the most shapely and beautiful he had seen from his boyhood. Her agile movements and the charm of her looks inflamed him with love for her, to such a degree that he felt ready for any encounter in order to secure her to be his own. From his hiding place he watched every move for his opportunity; at last, with feelings of anxiety and dread,he leaped suddenly into the middle of the circle of the fairies. There, while their enjoyment of the dance was at its height, he seized her in his arms and carried her away to his home at Ystrad. But, as she screamed for help to free her from the grasp of him who had fallen in love with her, the dancing party disappeared like one’s breath in July. He treated her with the utmost kindness, and was ever anxious to keep her within his sight and in his possession. By dint of tenderness he succeeded so far as to get her to consent to be his servant at Ystrad. And such a servant she turned out to be! Why, she was wont to milk the cows thrice a day, and to have the usual quantity of milk each time, so that the butter was so plentiful that nobody thought of weighing it. As to her name, in spite of all his endeavours to ascertain it, she would never tell it him. Accidentally, however, one moonlight night, when driving two of his cows to the spot where they should graze, he came to the place where the fairies were wont to enjoy their games in the light of the moon. This time also he hid himself in a thicket, when he overheard one fairy saying to another, ‘When we were last here our sister Penelope was stolen from us by a man.’ As soon as he heard this off he went home, full of joy because he had discovered the name of the maid that was so dear to him. She, on the other hand, was greatly astonished to hear him call her by her own name. As she was so charmingly pretty, so industrious, so skilled in every work, and so attended by luck in everything she put her hand to, he offered to make her his wife instead of being his servant. At first she would in no wise consent, but she rather gave way to grief at his having found her name out. However, his importunity at length brought her to consent, but on the condition that he should notstrike her with iron; if that should happen, she would quit him never to return. The agreement was made on his side with the readiness of love, and after this they lived in happiness and comfort together for many years, and there were born to them a son and a daughter, who were the handsomest children in the whole country. Owing, also, to the skill and good qualities of the woman, as a shrewd and virtuous wife, they became very rich—richer, indeed, than anybody else in the country around; for, besides the husband’s own inheritance of Ystrad, he held all the northern part of Nant y Bettws, and all from there to the top of Snowdon, together with Cwm Brwynog in the parish of Ỻanberis. But one day, as bad luck would have it, they went out together to catch a horse in the field, and, as the animal was somewhat wild and untamed, they had no easy work before them. In his rashness the man threw a bridle at him as he was rushing past him, but alas! on whom should the bridle fall but on the wife! No sooner had this happened than she disappeared, and nothing more was ever seen of her. But one cold night, when there was a chilling wind blowing from the north, she came near the window of his bedroom, and told him in these words to take care of the children:—Lest my son should find it cold,Place on him his father’s coat:Lest the fair one find it cold,Place on her my petticoat.Then she withdrew, and nothing more was heard of her.In reply to some queries of mine, Mr. O. Davies tells me that Penelope was pronounced in three syllables, Pénĕlôp—so he heard it from his grandfather: he goes on to say that the offspring of the Lake Lady is supposed to be represented by a family calledPellings,which was once a highly respected name in those parts, and that there was a Lady Bulkeley who was of this descent, not to mention that several people of a lower rank, both in Anglesey and Arfon, claimed to be of the same origin. I am not very clear as to how the name got into this tale, nor have I been able to learn anything about the Pellings; but, as the word appears to have been regarded as a corrupt derivative from Penelope, that is, perhaps, all the connexion, so that it may be that it has really nothing whatever to do with the legend. This is a point, however, which the antiquaries of North Wales ought to be able to clear up satisfactorily.In reply to queries of mine, Mr. O. Davies gave me the following particulars:—‘I am now (June, 1881) over fifty-two years of age, and I can assure you that I have heard the legend forty years ago. I do not remember my father, as he died when I was young, but my grandfather was remarkable for his delight in tales and legends, and it was his favourite pastime during the winter nights, after getting his short black pipe ready, to relate stories about struggles with robbers, about bogies, and above all about theTylwyth Teg; for they were his chief delight. He has been dead twenty-six years, and he had almost reached eighty years of age. His father before him, who was born about the year 1740, was also famous for his stories, and my grandfather often mentioned him as his authority in the course of his narration of the tales. Both he and the rest of the family used to look at Corwrion, to be mentioned presently, as a sacred spot. When I was a lad and happened to be reluctant to leave off playing at dusk, my mother or grandfather had only to say that ‘the Pellings were coming,’ in order to induce me to come into the house at once: indeed, this announcement hadthe same effect on persons of a much riper age than mine then was.’Further, Mr. Davies kindly called my attention to a volume, entitledObservations on the Snowdon Mountains, by Mr. William Williams, of Ỻandegai, published in London in 1802. In that work this tale is given somewhat less fully than by Mr. Davies’ informant, but the author makes the following remarks with regard to it, pp. 37, 40:—‘A race of people inhabiting the districts about the foot of Snowdon, were formerly distinguished and known by the nickname ofPellings, which is not yet extinct. There are several persons and even families who are reputed to be descended from these people …. These children [Penelope’s] and their descendants, they say, were calledPellings, a word corrupted from their mother’s name, Penelope. The late Thomas Rowlands, Esq., of Caerau, in Anglesey, the father of the late Lady Bulkeley, was a descendant of this lady, if it be true that the namePellingscame from her; and there are still living several opulent and respectable people who are known to have sprung from thePellings. The best blood in my own veins is this fairy’s.’Lastly, it will be noticed that these last versions do not distinctly suggest that the Lake Lady ran into the lake, that is into Cweỻyn, but rather that she disappeared in the same way as the dancing party by simply becoming invisible like one’s breath in July. The fairies are called in Welsh,Y Tylwyth Teg, or the Fair Family; but the people of Arfon have been so familiarized with the particular one I have called the Lake Lady, that, according to one of my informants, they have invented the termY Dylwythes Deg, or evenY Dylwythen Deg, to denote her; but it is unknown to the others, so that the extent of its use is not very considerable.This is, perhaps, the place to give another tale, according to which the man goes to the Lake Maiden’s country, instead of her settling with him at his home. I owe it to the kindness of Mr. William Jones, of Regent Place, Ỻangoỻen, a native of Beđgelert. He heard it from an old man before he left Beđgelert, but when he sent a friend to inquire some time afterwards, the old man was gone. According to Mr. Jones, the details of the tale are, for that reason, imperfect, as some of the incidents have faded from his memory; but such as he can still remember the tale, it is here given in his own words:—Ryw noson lawn ỻoer ac un o feibion Ỻwyn On yn Nant y Betws yn myned i garu i Glogwyn y Gwin, efe a welođ y Tylwyth yn ymlođestu a dawnsio ei hochr hi ar weirglođ wrth lan Ỻyn Caweỻyn. Efe a nesaođ tuag atynt; ac o dipyn i beth fe’i ỻithiwyd gan bereiđdra swynol eu canu a hoender a bywiogrwyđ eu chwareu, nes myned o hono tu fewn i’r cylch; ac yn fuan fe đaeth rhyw hud drosto, fel y coỻođ adnabyđiaeth o bobman; a chafođ ei hun mewn gwlad harđaf a welođ erioed, ỻe’r oeđ pawb yn treulio eu hamser mewn afiaeth a gorfoleđ. Yr oeđ wedi bod yno am saith mlyneđ, ac eto nid oeđ đim ond megis breuđwyd nos; ond daeth adgof i’w feđwl am ei neges, a hiraeth ynđo am weled ei anwylyd. Feỻy efe a ofynođ ganiatad i đychwelyd adref, yr hyn a rođwyd ynghyd a ỻu o gymdeithion i’w arwain tua’i wlad; ac yn đisymwth cafođ ei hun fel yn deffro o freuđwyd ar y đol, ỻe gwelođ y Tylwyth Teg yn chwareu. Trođ ei wyneb tuag adref; ond wedi myned yno yr oeđ popeth wedi newid, ei rieni wedi meirw, ei frodyr yn ffaelu ei adnabod, a’i gariad wedi priodi un araỻ.—Ar ol y fath gyfnewidiadau efe a dorođ ei galon, ac a fu farw mewn ỻai nag wythnos ar ol ei đychweliad.‘One bright moonlight night, as one of the sons of thefarmer who lived at Ỻwyn On in Nant y Bettws was going to pay his addresses to a girl at Clogwyn y Gwin, he beheld theTylwyth Tegenjoying themselves in full swing on a meadow close to Cweỻyn Lake. He approached them, and little by little he was led on by the enchanting sweetness of their music and the liveliness of their playing until he had got within their circle. Soon some kind of spell passed over him, so that he lost his knowledge of the place, and found himself in a country, the most beautiful he had ever seen, where everybody spent his time in mirth and rejoicing. He had been there seven years, and yet it seemed to him but a night’s dream; but a faint recollection came to his mind of the business on which he had left home, and he felt a longing to see his beloved one. So he went and asked for permission to return home, which was granted him, together with a host of attendants to lead him to his country; and, suddenly, he found himself, as if waking from a dream, on the bank where he had seen the fair family amusing themselves. He turned towards home, but there he found everything changed: his parents were dead, his brothers could not recognize him, and his sweetheart was married to another man. In consequence of such changes he died broken-hearted in less than a week after coming back.’

IV.

Through the Rev. Daniel Lewis, incumbent of Bettws Garmon, I was directed to Mr. Samuel Rhys Williams, of the Post Office of that place, who has kindly given me the result of his inquiries when writing on the subject of the antiquities of the neighbourhood for a competition at a literary meeting held there a few years ago. He tells me that he got the following short tale from a native of Drws y Coed, whose name is Margaret Williams. She has been living at Bettws Garmon for many years, and is now over eighty. He does not know whether the story is in print or not, but he is certain that Margaret Williams never saw it, even if it be. He further thinks he has heard it from another person, to wit a man over seventy-seven yearsof age, who has always lived at Drws y Coed, in the parish of Beđgelert:—Y mae hanes am fab i amaethwr a breswyliai yn yr Ystrad20, Betws Garmon21, pan yn dychwelyd adref o daith yn hwyr un noswaith, đarfod iđo weled cwmni o’r Tylwyth Teg ynghanol eu hafiaeth a’u glođest. Syfrdanwyd y ỻanc yn y fan gan degwch anghymarol un o’r rhianod hyn, fel y beiđiođ neidio i ganol y cylch, a chymeryd ei eilun gydag ef. Wedi iđi fod yn trigo gydag ef yn ei gartref am ysbaid, cafođ ganđi ađaw bod yn wraig iđo ar amodau neiỻduol. Un o’r amodau hyn ydoeđ, na byđai iđo gyffwrđ ynđi ag un math o haiarn. Bu yn wraig iđo, a ganwyd iđynt đau o blant. Un diwrnod yr oeđ y gwr yn y maes yn ceisio dal y ceffyl; wrth ei weled yn ffaelu, aeth y wraig ato i’w gynorthwyo, a phan oeđ y march yn carlamu heibio goỻyngođ yntau y ffrwyn o’i law, er mwyn ceisio ei atal heibio; a phwy a darawođ ond ei wraig, yr hon a điflannođ yn y fan aỻan o’i olwg?‘The story goes, that the son of a farmer, who lived at the Ystrad in Bettws Garmon, when returning home from a journey, late in the evening, beheld a company of fairies in the middle of their mirth and jollity. The youth was at once bewildered by the incomparable beauty of one of these ladies, so that he ventured to leap into the circle and take his idol away with him. After she had tarried awhile with him at his home, he prevailed on her, on special conditions, to become his wife. One of these conditions was that he should not touch her with iron of any description. She becamehis wife, and two children were born to them. One day the husband was in the field trying to catch the horse; seeing him unsuccessful, the wife went to him to help him, and, when the horse was galloping past him, he let go the bridle at him in order to prevent him from passing; but whom should he strike but his wife, who vanished out of his sight on the spot.’Just as I was engaged in collecting these stories in 1881, a correspondent sent me a copy of the Ystrad tale as published by the late bard and antiquary, the Rev. Owen Wyn Jones, better known in Wales by his bardic name of Glasynys22, in theBrython23for 1863, p. 193. I will not attempt to translate Glasynys’ poetic prose with all its compound adjectives, but it comes to this in a few words. One fine sunny morning, as the young heir of Ystrad was busied with his sheep on the side of Moel Eilio, he met a very pretty girl, and when he got home he told the folks there of it. A few days afterwards he met her again, and this happened several times, when he mentioned it to his father, who advisedhim to seize her when he next met her. The next time he met her he proceeded to do so, but before he could take her away, a little fat old man came to them and begged him to give her back to him, to which the youth would not listen. The little man uttered terrible threats, but the heir of Ystrad would not yield, so an agreement was made between them, that the latter was to have the girl to wife until he touched her skin with iron, and great was the joy both of the son and his parents in consequence. They lived together for many years; but once on a time, on the evening of the Bettws Fair, the wife’s horse became restive, and somehow, as the husband was attending to the horse, the stirrup touched the skin of her bare leg, and that very night she was taken away from him. She had three or four children, and more than one of their descendants, as Glasynys maintains, were known to him at the time he wrote in 1863. Glasynys regards this as the same tale which is given by Williams of Ỻandegai, to whom we shall refer later; and he says that he heard it scores of times when he was a lad.Lastly, I happened to mention these legends last summer among others to the Rev. Owen Davies, curate of Ỻanberis, a man who is well versed in Welsh literature, and thoroughly in sympathy with everything Welsh. Mr. Davies told me that he knew a tale of the sort from his youth, as current in the parishes of Ỻanỻechid and Ỻandegai, near Bangor. Not long afterwards he visited his mother at his native place, in Ỻanỻechid, in order to have his memory of it refreshed; and he also went to the Waen Fawr, on the other side of Carnarvon, where he had the same legend told him with the different localities specified. The following is the Waen Fawr version, of which I give the Welsh as I have had it from Mr. Davies, and as it wasrelated, according to him, some forty years ago in the valley of Nant y Bettws, near Carnarvon:—Ar brydnawngwaith hyfryd yn Hefin, aeth ỻanc ieuanc gwrol-đewr ac anturiaethus, sef etifeđ a pherchennog yr Ystrad, i lan afon Gwyrfai, heb fod yn nepeỻ o’i chychwyniad o lyn Caweỻyn, ac a ymguđiođ yno mewn dyryslwyn, sef ger y fan y byđai poblach y cotiau cochion—y Tylwyth Teg—yn arfer dawnsio. Yr ydoeđ yn noswaith hyfryd loergannog, heb un cwmwl i gau ỻygaid y Ỻoer, ac anian yn đistaw dawedog, ođigerth murmuriad ỻeđf y Wyrfai, a swn yr awel ysgafndroed yn rhodio brigau deiliog y coed. Ni bu yn ei ymguđfa ond dros ychydig amser, cyn cael difyrru o hono ei olygon a dawns y teulu dedwyđ. Wrth syỻu ar gywreinrwyđ y đawns, y chwim droadau cyflym, yr ymgyniweiriad ysgafn-droediog, tarawođ ei lygaid ar las lodes ieuanc, dlysaf, harđaf, lunieiđiaf a welođ er ei febyd. Yr oeđ ei chwim droadau a ỻedneisrwyđ ei hagweđion wedi tanio ei serch tu ag ati i’r fath rađau, fel ag yr oeđ yn barod i unrhyw anturiaeth er mwyn ei henniỻ yn gydymaith iđo ei hun. O’i ymguđfa dywyỻ, yr oeđ yn gwylio pob ysgogiad er mwyn ei gyfleustra ei hun. Mewn mynud, yn đisymwth đigon, rhwng pryder ac ofn, ỻamneidiođ fel ỻew gwrol i ganol cylch y Tylwyth Teg, ac ymafaelođ a dwylaw cariad yn y fun luniaiđ a daniođ ei serch, a hynny, pan oeđ y Tylwyth dedwyđ yn nghanol nwyfiant eu dawns. Cofleidiođ hi yn dyner garedig yn ei fynwes wresog, ac aeth a hi i’w gartref—i’r Ystrad. Ond diflannođ ei chyd-đawnsyđion fel anadl Gorphennaf, er ei chroch đolefau am gael ei rhyđhau, a’i hymegnion diflino i đianc o afael yr hwn a’i hoffođ. Mewn anwylder mawr, ymđygođ y ỻanc yn dyner odiaethol tu ag at y fun deg, ac yr oeđ yn orawyđus i’w chadw yn ei olwg ac yn ei feđiant. Ỻwyđođ drwy ei dynerwch tu ag ati i gael ganđi ađaw dyfod yn forwyn iđo yn yr Ystrad. A morwyn ragorol oeđ hi. Godrai deirgwaith y swm arferol o laeth ođiarbob buwch, ac yr oeđ yr ymenyn heb bwys arno. Ond er ei hoỻ daerni, nis gaỻai mewn un mođ gael ganđi đyweud ei henw wrtho. Gwnaeth lawer cais, ond yn gwbl ofer. Yn đamweiniol ryw dro, wrth yrruBrithen a’r Benwen i’r borfa,a hi yn noswaith loergan, efe a aeth i’r man ỻe yr arferai y Tylwyth Teg fyned drwy eu campau yng ngoleuni’r Ỻoer wen. Y tro hwn eto, efe a ymguđiođ mewn dyryslwyn, a chlywođ y Tylwyth Teg yn dywedyd y naiỻ wrth y ỻaỻ—‘Pan oeđym ni yn y ỻe hwn y tro diweđaf, dygwyd ein chwaer Penelope ođiarnom gan un o’r marwolion.’ Ar hynny, dychwelođ y ỻencyn adref, a’i fynwes yn ỻawn o falchder cariad, o herwyđ iđo gael gwybod enw ei hoff forwyn, yr hon a synnođ yn aruthr, pan glywođ ei meistr ieuanc yn ei galw wrth ei henw. Ac am ei bod yn odiaethol dlos, a ỻuniaiđ, yn fywiog-weithgar, a medrus ar bob gwaith, a bod popeth yn ỻwyđo dan ei ỻaw, cynygiođ ei hun iđi yn wr—y celai fod yn feistres yr Ystrad, yn ỻe bod yn forwyn. Ond ni chydsyniai hi a’i gais ar un cyfrif; ond bod braiđ yn bendrist oherwyđ iđo wybod ei henw. Fođ bynnag, gwedi maith amser, a thrwy ei daerineb diflino, cydsyniođ, ond yn amodol. Ađawođ đyfod yn wraig iđo, ar yr amod canlynol, sef, ‘Pa bryd bynnag y tarawai ef hi â haiarn, yr elai ymaith ođi wrtho, ac na đychwelai byth ato mwy.’ Sicrhawyd yr amod o’i du yntau gyda pharodrwyđ cariad. Buont yn cyd-fyw a’u gilyđ yn hapus a chysurus lawer o flynyđoeđ, a ganwyd iđynt fab a merch, y rhai oeđynt dlysaf a ỻunieiđiaf yn yr hoỻ froyđ. Ac yn rhinweđ ei medrusrwyđ a’i deheurwyđ fel gwraig gaỻ, rinweđol, aethant yn gyfoethog iawn—yn gyfoethocach na neb yn yr hoỻ wlad. Heblaw ei etifeđiaeth ei hun—Yr Ystrad, yr oeđ yn ffarmio hoỻ ogleđ-barth Nant y Betws, ac ođi yno i ben yr Wyđfa, ynghyd a hoỻ Gwm Brwynog, yn mhlwyf Ỻanberis. Ond, ryw điwrnod,yn anffortunus đigon aeth y đau i’r đol i đal y ceffyl, a chan fod y ceffylyn braiđ yn wyỻt ac an-nof, yn rhedeg ođi arnynt, taflođ y gwr y ffrwyn mewn gwyỻtineb yn ei erbyn, er ei atal, ac ar bwy y disgynnođ y ffrwyn, ond ar Penelope, y wraig! Diflannođ Penelope yn y fan, ac ni welođ byth mo honi. Ond ryw noswaith, a’r gwynt yn chwythu yn oer o’r gogleđ, daeth Penelope at ffenestr ei ystafeỻ wely, a dywedođ wrtho am gymmeryd gofal o’r plant yn y geiriau hyn:Rhag bod anwyd ar fy mab,Yn rhođ rhowch arno gób ei dad;Rhag bod anwyd ar liw’r can,Rhođwch arni bais ei mham.Ac yna ciliođ, ac ni chlywyd na siw na miw byth yn ei chylch.For the sake of an occasional reader who does not know Welsh, I add a summary of it in English.One fine evening in the month of June a brave, adventurous youth, the heir of Ystrad, went to the banks of the Gwyrfai, not far from where it leaves Cweỻyn Lake, and hid himself in the bushes near the spot where the folks of the Red Coats—the fairies—were wont to dance. The moon shone forth brightly without a cloud to intercept her light; all was quiet save where the Gwyrfai gently murmured on her bed, and it was not long before the young man had the satisfaction of seeing the fair family dancing in full swing. As he gazed on the subtle course of the dance, his eyes rested on a damsel, the most shapely and beautiful he had seen from his boyhood. Her agile movements and the charm of her looks inflamed him with love for her, to such a degree that he felt ready for any encounter in order to secure her to be his own. From his hiding place he watched every move for his opportunity; at last, with feelings of anxiety and dread,he leaped suddenly into the middle of the circle of the fairies. There, while their enjoyment of the dance was at its height, he seized her in his arms and carried her away to his home at Ystrad. But, as she screamed for help to free her from the grasp of him who had fallen in love with her, the dancing party disappeared like one’s breath in July. He treated her with the utmost kindness, and was ever anxious to keep her within his sight and in his possession. By dint of tenderness he succeeded so far as to get her to consent to be his servant at Ystrad. And such a servant she turned out to be! Why, she was wont to milk the cows thrice a day, and to have the usual quantity of milk each time, so that the butter was so plentiful that nobody thought of weighing it. As to her name, in spite of all his endeavours to ascertain it, she would never tell it him. Accidentally, however, one moonlight night, when driving two of his cows to the spot where they should graze, he came to the place where the fairies were wont to enjoy their games in the light of the moon. This time also he hid himself in a thicket, when he overheard one fairy saying to another, ‘When we were last here our sister Penelope was stolen from us by a man.’ As soon as he heard this off he went home, full of joy because he had discovered the name of the maid that was so dear to him. She, on the other hand, was greatly astonished to hear him call her by her own name. As she was so charmingly pretty, so industrious, so skilled in every work, and so attended by luck in everything she put her hand to, he offered to make her his wife instead of being his servant. At first she would in no wise consent, but she rather gave way to grief at his having found her name out. However, his importunity at length brought her to consent, but on the condition that he should notstrike her with iron; if that should happen, she would quit him never to return. The agreement was made on his side with the readiness of love, and after this they lived in happiness and comfort together for many years, and there were born to them a son and a daughter, who were the handsomest children in the whole country. Owing, also, to the skill and good qualities of the woman, as a shrewd and virtuous wife, they became very rich—richer, indeed, than anybody else in the country around; for, besides the husband’s own inheritance of Ystrad, he held all the northern part of Nant y Bettws, and all from there to the top of Snowdon, together with Cwm Brwynog in the parish of Ỻanberis. But one day, as bad luck would have it, they went out together to catch a horse in the field, and, as the animal was somewhat wild and untamed, they had no easy work before them. In his rashness the man threw a bridle at him as he was rushing past him, but alas! on whom should the bridle fall but on the wife! No sooner had this happened than she disappeared, and nothing more was ever seen of her. But one cold night, when there was a chilling wind blowing from the north, she came near the window of his bedroom, and told him in these words to take care of the children:—Lest my son should find it cold,Place on him his father’s coat:Lest the fair one find it cold,Place on her my petticoat.Then she withdrew, and nothing more was heard of her.In reply to some queries of mine, Mr. O. Davies tells me that Penelope was pronounced in three syllables, Pénĕlôp—so he heard it from his grandfather: he goes on to say that the offspring of the Lake Lady is supposed to be represented by a family calledPellings,which was once a highly respected name in those parts, and that there was a Lady Bulkeley who was of this descent, not to mention that several people of a lower rank, both in Anglesey and Arfon, claimed to be of the same origin. I am not very clear as to how the name got into this tale, nor have I been able to learn anything about the Pellings; but, as the word appears to have been regarded as a corrupt derivative from Penelope, that is, perhaps, all the connexion, so that it may be that it has really nothing whatever to do with the legend. This is a point, however, which the antiquaries of North Wales ought to be able to clear up satisfactorily.In reply to queries of mine, Mr. O. Davies gave me the following particulars:—‘I am now (June, 1881) over fifty-two years of age, and I can assure you that I have heard the legend forty years ago. I do not remember my father, as he died when I was young, but my grandfather was remarkable for his delight in tales and legends, and it was his favourite pastime during the winter nights, after getting his short black pipe ready, to relate stories about struggles with robbers, about bogies, and above all about theTylwyth Teg; for they were his chief delight. He has been dead twenty-six years, and he had almost reached eighty years of age. His father before him, who was born about the year 1740, was also famous for his stories, and my grandfather often mentioned him as his authority in the course of his narration of the tales. Both he and the rest of the family used to look at Corwrion, to be mentioned presently, as a sacred spot. When I was a lad and happened to be reluctant to leave off playing at dusk, my mother or grandfather had only to say that ‘the Pellings were coming,’ in order to induce me to come into the house at once: indeed, this announcement hadthe same effect on persons of a much riper age than mine then was.’Further, Mr. Davies kindly called my attention to a volume, entitledObservations on the Snowdon Mountains, by Mr. William Williams, of Ỻandegai, published in London in 1802. In that work this tale is given somewhat less fully than by Mr. Davies’ informant, but the author makes the following remarks with regard to it, pp. 37, 40:—‘A race of people inhabiting the districts about the foot of Snowdon, were formerly distinguished and known by the nickname ofPellings, which is not yet extinct. There are several persons and even families who are reputed to be descended from these people …. These children [Penelope’s] and their descendants, they say, were calledPellings, a word corrupted from their mother’s name, Penelope. The late Thomas Rowlands, Esq., of Caerau, in Anglesey, the father of the late Lady Bulkeley, was a descendant of this lady, if it be true that the namePellingscame from her; and there are still living several opulent and respectable people who are known to have sprung from thePellings. The best blood in my own veins is this fairy’s.’Lastly, it will be noticed that these last versions do not distinctly suggest that the Lake Lady ran into the lake, that is into Cweỻyn, but rather that she disappeared in the same way as the dancing party by simply becoming invisible like one’s breath in July. The fairies are called in Welsh,Y Tylwyth Teg, or the Fair Family; but the people of Arfon have been so familiarized with the particular one I have called the Lake Lady, that, according to one of my informants, they have invented the termY Dylwythes Deg, or evenY Dylwythen Deg, to denote her; but it is unknown to the others, so that the extent of its use is not very considerable.This is, perhaps, the place to give another tale, according to which the man goes to the Lake Maiden’s country, instead of her settling with him at his home. I owe it to the kindness of Mr. William Jones, of Regent Place, Ỻangoỻen, a native of Beđgelert. He heard it from an old man before he left Beđgelert, but when he sent a friend to inquire some time afterwards, the old man was gone. According to Mr. Jones, the details of the tale are, for that reason, imperfect, as some of the incidents have faded from his memory; but such as he can still remember the tale, it is here given in his own words:—Ryw noson lawn ỻoer ac un o feibion Ỻwyn On yn Nant y Betws yn myned i garu i Glogwyn y Gwin, efe a welođ y Tylwyth yn ymlođestu a dawnsio ei hochr hi ar weirglođ wrth lan Ỻyn Caweỻyn. Efe a nesaođ tuag atynt; ac o dipyn i beth fe’i ỻithiwyd gan bereiđdra swynol eu canu a hoender a bywiogrwyđ eu chwareu, nes myned o hono tu fewn i’r cylch; ac yn fuan fe đaeth rhyw hud drosto, fel y coỻođ adnabyđiaeth o bobman; a chafođ ei hun mewn gwlad harđaf a welođ erioed, ỻe’r oeđ pawb yn treulio eu hamser mewn afiaeth a gorfoleđ. Yr oeđ wedi bod yno am saith mlyneđ, ac eto nid oeđ đim ond megis breuđwyd nos; ond daeth adgof i’w feđwl am ei neges, a hiraeth ynđo am weled ei anwylyd. Feỻy efe a ofynođ ganiatad i đychwelyd adref, yr hyn a rođwyd ynghyd a ỻu o gymdeithion i’w arwain tua’i wlad; ac yn đisymwth cafođ ei hun fel yn deffro o freuđwyd ar y đol, ỻe gwelođ y Tylwyth Teg yn chwareu. Trođ ei wyneb tuag adref; ond wedi myned yno yr oeđ popeth wedi newid, ei rieni wedi meirw, ei frodyr yn ffaelu ei adnabod, a’i gariad wedi priodi un araỻ.—Ar ol y fath gyfnewidiadau efe a dorođ ei galon, ac a fu farw mewn ỻai nag wythnos ar ol ei đychweliad.‘One bright moonlight night, as one of the sons of thefarmer who lived at Ỻwyn On in Nant y Bettws was going to pay his addresses to a girl at Clogwyn y Gwin, he beheld theTylwyth Tegenjoying themselves in full swing on a meadow close to Cweỻyn Lake. He approached them, and little by little he was led on by the enchanting sweetness of their music and the liveliness of their playing until he had got within their circle. Soon some kind of spell passed over him, so that he lost his knowledge of the place, and found himself in a country, the most beautiful he had ever seen, where everybody spent his time in mirth and rejoicing. He had been there seven years, and yet it seemed to him but a night’s dream; but a faint recollection came to his mind of the business on which he had left home, and he felt a longing to see his beloved one. So he went and asked for permission to return home, which was granted him, together with a host of attendants to lead him to his country; and, suddenly, he found himself, as if waking from a dream, on the bank where he had seen the fair family amusing themselves. He turned towards home, but there he found everything changed: his parents were dead, his brothers could not recognize him, and his sweetheart was married to another man. In consequence of such changes he died broken-hearted in less than a week after coming back.’

Y mae hanes am fab i amaethwr a breswyliai yn yr Ystrad20, Betws Garmon21, pan yn dychwelyd adref o daith yn hwyr un noswaith, đarfod iđo weled cwmni o’r Tylwyth Teg ynghanol eu hafiaeth a’u glođest. Syfrdanwyd y ỻanc yn y fan gan degwch anghymarol un o’r rhianod hyn, fel y beiđiođ neidio i ganol y cylch, a chymeryd ei eilun gydag ef. Wedi iđi fod yn trigo gydag ef yn ei gartref am ysbaid, cafođ ganđi ađaw bod yn wraig iđo ar amodau neiỻduol. Un o’r amodau hyn ydoeđ, na byđai iđo gyffwrđ ynđi ag un math o haiarn. Bu yn wraig iđo, a ganwyd iđynt đau o blant. Un diwrnod yr oeđ y gwr yn y maes yn ceisio dal y ceffyl; wrth ei weled yn ffaelu, aeth y wraig ato i’w gynorthwyo, a phan oeđ y march yn carlamu heibio goỻyngođ yntau y ffrwyn o’i law, er mwyn ceisio ei atal heibio; a phwy a darawođ ond ei wraig, yr hon a điflannođ yn y fan aỻan o’i olwg?

‘The story goes, that the son of a farmer, who lived at the Ystrad in Bettws Garmon, when returning home from a journey, late in the evening, beheld a company of fairies in the middle of their mirth and jollity. The youth was at once bewildered by the incomparable beauty of one of these ladies, so that he ventured to leap into the circle and take his idol away with him. After she had tarried awhile with him at his home, he prevailed on her, on special conditions, to become his wife. One of these conditions was that he should not touch her with iron of any description. She becamehis wife, and two children were born to them. One day the husband was in the field trying to catch the horse; seeing him unsuccessful, the wife went to him to help him, and, when the horse was galloping past him, he let go the bridle at him in order to prevent him from passing; but whom should he strike but his wife, who vanished out of his sight on the spot.’

Just as I was engaged in collecting these stories in 1881, a correspondent sent me a copy of the Ystrad tale as published by the late bard and antiquary, the Rev. Owen Wyn Jones, better known in Wales by his bardic name of Glasynys22, in theBrython23for 1863, p. 193. I will not attempt to translate Glasynys’ poetic prose with all its compound adjectives, but it comes to this in a few words. One fine sunny morning, as the young heir of Ystrad was busied with his sheep on the side of Moel Eilio, he met a very pretty girl, and when he got home he told the folks there of it. A few days afterwards he met her again, and this happened several times, when he mentioned it to his father, who advisedhim to seize her when he next met her. The next time he met her he proceeded to do so, but before he could take her away, a little fat old man came to them and begged him to give her back to him, to which the youth would not listen. The little man uttered terrible threats, but the heir of Ystrad would not yield, so an agreement was made between them, that the latter was to have the girl to wife until he touched her skin with iron, and great was the joy both of the son and his parents in consequence. They lived together for many years; but once on a time, on the evening of the Bettws Fair, the wife’s horse became restive, and somehow, as the husband was attending to the horse, the stirrup touched the skin of her bare leg, and that very night she was taken away from him. She had three or four children, and more than one of their descendants, as Glasynys maintains, were known to him at the time he wrote in 1863. Glasynys regards this as the same tale which is given by Williams of Ỻandegai, to whom we shall refer later; and he says that he heard it scores of times when he was a lad.

Lastly, I happened to mention these legends last summer among others to the Rev. Owen Davies, curate of Ỻanberis, a man who is well versed in Welsh literature, and thoroughly in sympathy with everything Welsh. Mr. Davies told me that he knew a tale of the sort from his youth, as current in the parishes of Ỻanỻechid and Ỻandegai, near Bangor. Not long afterwards he visited his mother at his native place, in Ỻanỻechid, in order to have his memory of it refreshed; and he also went to the Waen Fawr, on the other side of Carnarvon, where he had the same legend told him with the different localities specified. The following is the Waen Fawr version, of which I give the Welsh as I have had it from Mr. Davies, and as it wasrelated, according to him, some forty years ago in the valley of Nant y Bettws, near Carnarvon:—

Ar brydnawngwaith hyfryd yn Hefin, aeth ỻanc ieuanc gwrol-đewr ac anturiaethus, sef etifeđ a pherchennog yr Ystrad, i lan afon Gwyrfai, heb fod yn nepeỻ o’i chychwyniad o lyn Caweỻyn, ac a ymguđiođ yno mewn dyryslwyn, sef ger y fan y byđai poblach y cotiau cochion—y Tylwyth Teg—yn arfer dawnsio. Yr ydoeđ yn noswaith hyfryd loergannog, heb un cwmwl i gau ỻygaid y Ỻoer, ac anian yn đistaw dawedog, ođigerth murmuriad ỻeđf y Wyrfai, a swn yr awel ysgafndroed yn rhodio brigau deiliog y coed. Ni bu yn ei ymguđfa ond dros ychydig amser, cyn cael difyrru o hono ei olygon a dawns y teulu dedwyđ. Wrth syỻu ar gywreinrwyđ y đawns, y chwim droadau cyflym, yr ymgyniweiriad ysgafn-droediog, tarawođ ei lygaid ar las lodes ieuanc, dlysaf, harđaf, lunieiđiaf a welođ er ei febyd. Yr oeđ ei chwim droadau a ỻedneisrwyđ ei hagweđion wedi tanio ei serch tu ag ati i’r fath rađau, fel ag yr oeđ yn barod i unrhyw anturiaeth er mwyn ei henniỻ yn gydymaith iđo ei hun. O’i ymguđfa dywyỻ, yr oeđ yn gwylio pob ysgogiad er mwyn ei gyfleustra ei hun. Mewn mynud, yn đisymwth đigon, rhwng pryder ac ofn, ỻamneidiođ fel ỻew gwrol i ganol cylch y Tylwyth Teg, ac ymafaelođ a dwylaw cariad yn y fun luniaiđ a daniođ ei serch, a hynny, pan oeđ y Tylwyth dedwyđ yn nghanol nwyfiant eu dawns. Cofleidiođ hi yn dyner garedig yn ei fynwes wresog, ac aeth a hi i’w gartref—i’r Ystrad. Ond diflannođ ei chyd-đawnsyđion fel anadl Gorphennaf, er ei chroch đolefau am gael ei rhyđhau, a’i hymegnion diflino i đianc o afael yr hwn a’i hoffođ. Mewn anwylder mawr, ymđygođ y ỻanc yn dyner odiaethol tu ag at y fun deg, ac yr oeđ yn orawyđus i’w chadw yn ei olwg ac yn ei feđiant. Ỻwyđođ drwy ei dynerwch tu ag ati i gael ganđi ađaw dyfod yn forwyn iđo yn yr Ystrad. A morwyn ragorol oeđ hi. Godrai deirgwaith y swm arferol o laeth ođiarbob buwch, ac yr oeđ yr ymenyn heb bwys arno. Ond er ei hoỻ daerni, nis gaỻai mewn un mođ gael ganđi đyweud ei henw wrtho. Gwnaeth lawer cais, ond yn gwbl ofer. Yn đamweiniol ryw dro, wrth yrru

Brithen a’r Benwen i’r borfa,

a hi yn noswaith loergan, efe a aeth i’r man ỻe yr arferai y Tylwyth Teg fyned drwy eu campau yng ngoleuni’r Ỻoer wen. Y tro hwn eto, efe a ymguđiođ mewn dyryslwyn, a chlywođ y Tylwyth Teg yn dywedyd y naiỻ wrth y ỻaỻ—‘Pan oeđym ni yn y ỻe hwn y tro diweđaf, dygwyd ein chwaer Penelope ođiarnom gan un o’r marwolion.’ Ar hynny, dychwelođ y ỻencyn adref, a’i fynwes yn ỻawn o falchder cariad, o herwyđ iđo gael gwybod enw ei hoff forwyn, yr hon a synnođ yn aruthr, pan glywođ ei meistr ieuanc yn ei galw wrth ei henw. Ac am ei bod yn odiaethol dlos, a ỻuniaiđ, yn fywiog-weithgar, a medrus ar bob gwaith, a bod popeth yn ỻwyđo dan ei ỻaw, cynygiođ ei hun iđi yn wr—y celai fod yn feistres yr Ystrad, yn ỻe bod yn forwyn. Ond ni chydsyniai hi a’i gais ar un cyfrif; ond bod braiđ yn bendrist oherwyđ iđo wybod ei henw. Fođ bynnag, gwedi maith amser, a thrwy ei daerineb diflino, cydsyniođ, ond yn amodol. Ađawođ đyfod yn wraig iđo, ar yr amod canlynol, sef, ‘Pa bryd bynnag y tarawai ef hi â haiarn, yr elai ymaith ođi wrtho, ac na đychwelai byth ato mwy.’ Sicrhawyd yr amod o’i du yntau gyda pharodrwyđ cariad. Buont yn cyd-fyw a’u gilyđ yn hapus a chysurus lawer o flynyđoeđ, a ganwyd iđynt fab a merch, y rhai oeđynt dlysaf a ỻunieiđiaf yn yr hoỻ froyđ. Ac yn rhinweđ ei medrusrwyđ a’i deheurwyđ fel gwraig gaỻ, rinweđol, aethant yn gyfoethog iawn—yn gyfoethocach na neb yn yr hoỻ wlad. Heblaw ei etifeđiaeth ei hun—Yr Ystrad, yr oeđ yn ffarmio hoỻ ogleđ-barth Nant y Betws, ac ođi yno i ben yr Wyđfa, ynghyd a hoỻ Gwm Brwynog, yn mhlwyf Ỻanberis. Ond, ryw điwrnod,yn anffortunus đigon aeth y đau i’r đol i đal y ceffyl, a chan fod y ceffylyn braiđ yn wyỻt ac an-nof, yn rhedeg ođi arnynt, taflođ y gwr y ffrwyn mewn gwyỻtineb yn ei erbyn, er ei atal, ac ar bwy y disgynnođ y ffrwyn, ond ar Penelope, y wraig! Diflannođ Penelope yn y fan, ac ni welođ byth mo honi. Ond ryw noswaith, a’r gwynt yn chwythu yn oer o’r gogleđ, daeth Penelope at ffenestr ei ystafeỻ wely, a dywedođ wrtho am gymmeryd gofal o’r plant yn y geiriau hyn:

Rhag bod anwyd ar fy mab,Yn rhođ rhowch arno gób ei dad;Rhag bod anwyd ar liw’r can,Rhođwch arni bais ei mham.

Rhag bod anwyd ar fy mab,

Yn rhođ rhowch arno gób ei dad;

Rhag bod anwyd ar liw’r can,

Rhođwch arni bais ei mham.

Ac yna ciliođ, ac ni chlywyd na siw na miw byth yn ei chylch.

For the sake of an occasional reader who does not know Welsh, I add a summary of it in English.

One fine evening in the month of June a brave, adventurous youth, the heir of Ystrad, went to the banks of the Gwyrfai, not far from where it leaves Cweỻyn Lake, and hid himself in the bushes near the spot where the folks of the Red Coats—the fairies—were wont to dance. The moon shone forth brightly without a cloud to intercept her light; all was quiet save where the Gwyrfai gently murmured on her bed, and it was not long before the young man had the satisfaction of seeing the fair family dancing in full swing. As he gazed on the subtle course of the dance, his eyes rested on a damsel, the most shapely and beautiful he had seen from his boyhood. Her agile movements and the charm of her looks inflamed him with love for her, to such a degree that he felt ready for any encounter in order to secure her to be his own. From his hiding place he watched every move for his opportunity; at last, with feelings of anxiety and dread,he leaped suddenly into the middle of the circle of the fairies. There, while their enjoyment of the dance was at its height, he seized her in his arms and carried her away to his home at Ystrad. But, as she screamed for help to free her from the grasp of him who had fallen in love with her, the dancing party disappeared like one’s breath in July. He treated her with the utmost kindness, and was ever anxious to keep her within his sight and in his possession. By dint of tenderness he succeeded so far as to get her to consent to be his servant at Ystrad. And such a servant she turned out to be! Why, she was wont to milk the cows thrice a day, and to have the usual quantity of milk each time, so that the butter was so plentiful that nobody thought of weighing it. As to her name, in spite of all his endeavours to ascertain it, she would never tell it him. Accidentally, however, one moonlight night, when driving two of his cows to the spot where they should graze, he came to the place where the fairies were wont to enjoy their games in the light of the moon. This time also he hid himself in a thicket, when he overheard one fairy saying to another, ‘When we were last here our sister Penelope was stolen from us by a man.’ As soon as he heard this off he went home, full of joy because he had discovered the name of the maid that was so dear to him. She, on the other hand, was greatly astonished to hear him call her by her own name. As she was so charmingly pretty, so industrious, so skilled in every work, and so attended by luck in everything she put her hand to, he offered to make her his wife instead of being his servant. At first she would in no wise consent, but she rather gave way to grief at his having found her name out. However, his importunity at length brought her to consent, but on the condition that he should notstrike her with iron; if that should happen, she would quit him never to return. The agreement was made on his side with the readiness of love, and after this they lived in happiness and comfort together for many years, and there were born to them a son and a daughter, who were the handsomest children in the whole country. Owing, also, to the skill and good qualities of the woman, as a shrewd and virtuous wife, they became very rich—richer, indeed, than anybody else in the country around; for, besides the husband’s own inheritance of Ystrad, he held all the northern part of Nant y Bettws, and all from there to the top of Snowdon, together with Cwm Brwynog in the parish of Ỻanberis. But one day, as bad luck would have it, they went out together to catch a horse in the field, and, as the animal was somewhat wild and untamed, they had no easy work before them. In his rashness the man threw a bridle at him as he was rushing past him, but alas! on whom should the bridle fall but on the wife! No sooner had this happened than she disappeared, and nothing more was ever seen of her. But one cold night, when there was a chilling wind blowing from the north, she came near the window of his bedroom, and told him in these words to take care of the children:—

Lest my son should find it cold,Place on him his father’s coat:Lest the fair one find it cold,Place on her my petticoat.

Lest my son should find it cold,

Place on him his father’s coat:

Lest the fair one find it cold,

Place on her my petticoat.

Then she withdrew, and nothing more was heard of her.

In reply to some queries of mine, Mr. O. Davies tells me that Penelope was pronounced in three syllables, Pénĕlôp—so he heard it from his grandfather: he goes on to say that the offspring of the Lake Lady is supposed to be represented by a family calledPellings,which was once a highly respected name in those parts, and that there was a Lady Bulkeley who was of this descent, not to mention that several people of a lower rank, both in Anglesey and Arfon, claimed to be of the same origin. I am not very clear as to how the name got into this tale, nor have I been able to learn anything about the Pellings; but, as the word appears to have been regarded as a corrupt derivative from Penelope, that is, perhaps, all the connexion, so that it may be that it has really nothing whatever to do with the legend. This is a point, however, which the antiquaries of North Wales ought to be able to clear up satisfactorily.

In reply to queries of mine, Mr. O. Davies gave me the following particulars:—‘I am now (June, 1881) over fifty-two years of age, and I can assure you that I have heard the legend forty years ago. I do not remember my father, as he died when I was young, but my grandfather was remarkable for his delight in tales and legends, and it was his favourite pastime during the winter nights, after getting his short black pipe ready, to relate stories about struggles with robbers, about bogies, and above all about theTylwyth Teg; for they were his chief delight. He has been dead twenty-six years, and he had almost reached eighty years of age. His father before him, who was born about the year 1740, was also famous for his stories, and my grandfather often mentioned him as his authority in the course of his narration of the tales. Both he and the rest of the family used to look at Corwrion, to be mentioned presently, as a sacred spot. When I was a lad and happened to be reluctant to leave off playing at dusk, my mother or grandfather had only to say that ‘the Pellings were coming,’ in order to induce me to come into the house at once: indeed, this announcement hadthe same effect on persons of a much riper age than mine then was.’

Further, Mr. Davies kindly called my attention to a volume, entitledObservations on the Snowdon Mountains, by Mr. William Williams, of Ỻandegai, published in London in 1802. In that work this tale is given somewhat less fully than by Mr. Davies’ informant, but the author makes the following remarks with regard to it, pp. 37, 40:—‘A race of people inhabiting the districts about the foot of Snowdon, were formerly distinguished and known by the nickname ofPellings, which is not yet extinct. There are several persons and even families who are reputed to be descended from these people …. These children [Penelope’s] and their descendants, they say, were calledPellings, a word corrupted from their mother’s name, Penelope. The late Thomas Rowlands, Esq., of Caerau, in Anglesey, the father of the late Lady Bulkeley, was a descendant of this lady, if it be true that the namePellingscame from her; and there are still living several opulent and respectable people who are known to have sprung from thePellings. The best blood in my own veins is this fairy’s.’

Lastly, it will be noticed that these last versions do not distinctly suggest that the Lake Lady ran into the lake, that is into Cweỻyn, but rather that she disappeared in the same way as the dancing party by simply becoming invisible like one’s breath in July. The fairies are called in Welsh,Y Tylwyth Teg, or the Fair Family; but the people of Arfon have been so familiarized with the particular one I have called the Lake Lady, that, according to one of my informants, they have invented the termY Dylwythes Deg, or evenY Dylwythen Deg, to denote her; but it is unknown to the others, so that the extent of its use is not very considerable.

This is, perhaps, the place to give another tale, according to which the man goes to the Lake Maiden’s country, instead of her settling with him at his home. I owe it to the kindness of Mr. William Jones, of Regent Place, Ỻangoỻen, a native of Beđgelert. He heard it from an old man before he left Beđgelert, but when he sent a friend to inquire some time afterwards, the old man was gone. According to Mr. Jones, the details of the tale are, for that reason, imperfect, as some of the incidents have faded from his memory; but such as he can still remember the tale, it is here given in his own words:—

Ryw noson lawn ỻoer ac un o feibion Ỻwyn On yn Nant y Betws yn myned i garu i Glogwyn y Gwin, efe a welođ y Tylwyth yn ymlođestu a dawnsio ei hochr hi ar weirglođ wrth lan Ỻyn Caweỻyn. Efe a nesaođ tuag atynt; ac o dipyn i beth fe’i ỻithiwyd gan bereiđdra swynol eu canu a hoender a bywiogrwyđ eu chwareu, nes myned o hono tu fewn i’r cylch; ac yn fuan fe đaeth rhyw hud drosto, fel y coỻođ adnabyđiaeth o bobman; a chafođ ei hun mewn gwlad harđaf a welođ erioed, ỻe’r oeđ pawb yn treulio eu hamser mewn afiaeth a gorfoleđ. Yr oeđ wedi bod yno am saith mlyneđ, ac eto nid oeđ đim ond megis breuđwyd nos; ond daeth adgof i’w feđwl am ei neges, a hiraeth ynđo am weled ei anwylyd. Feỻy efe a ofynođ ganiatad i đychwelyd adref, yr hyn a rođwyd ynghyd a ỻu o gymdeithion i’w arwain tua’i wlad; ac yn đisymwth cafođ ei hun fel yn deffro o freuđwyd ar y đol, ỻe gwelođ y Tylwyth Teg yn chwareu. Trođ ei wyneb tuag adref; ond wedi myned yno yr oeđ popeth wedi newid, ei rieni wedi meirw, ei frodyr yn ffaelu ei adnabod, a’i gariad wedi priodi un araỻ.—Ar ol y fath gyfnewidiadau efe a dorođ ei galon, ac a fu farw mewn ỻai nag wythnos ar ol ei đychweliad.

‘One bright moonlight night, as one of the sons of thefarmer who lived at Ỻwyn On in Nant y Bettws was going to pay his addresses to a girl at Clogwyn y Gwin, he beheld theTylwyth Tegenjoying themselves in full swing on a meadow close to Cweỻyn Lake. He approached them, and little by little he was led on by the enchanting sweetness of their music and the liveliness of their playing until he had got within their circle. Soon some kind of spell passed over him, so that he lost his knowledge of the place, and found himself in a country, the most beautiful he had ever seen, where everybody spent his time in mirth and rejoicing. He had been there seven years, and yet it seemed to him but a night’s dream; but a faint recollection came to his mind of the business on which he had left home, and he felt a longing to see his beloved one. So he went and asked for permission to return home, which was granted him, together with a host of attendants to lead him to his country; and, suddenly, he found himself, as if waking from a dream, on the bank where he had seen the fair family amusing themselves. He turned towards home, but there he found everything changed: his parents were dead, his brothers could not recognize him, and his sweetheart was married to another man. In consequence of such changes he died broken-hearted in less than a week after coming back.’

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