I.

I.The best living authority I have found on the folklore of Beđgelert, Drws y Coed, and the surrounding district, is Mr. William Jones, of Ỻangoỻen. He has written a good deal on the subject in theBrython, and in essays intended for competition at various literary meetings in Wales. I had the loan from him of one such essay, and I have referred to theBrython; and I have also had from Mr. Jones a number of letters, most of which contain some additional information. In harmony, moreover, with my usual practice, I have asked Mr. Jones to give me a little of his own history. This he has been kind enough to do; and, as I have so far followed no particular order in these jottings, I shall now give the reader the substance of his letters in English, as I am anxious that no item should be lost or left inaccessible to English students of folklore. What is unintelligible to me may not be so to those who have made a serious study of the subject. Mr. Jones’ words are in substance to the following effect:—‘I was bred and born in the parish of Beđgelert,one of the most rustic neighbourhoods and least subject to change in the whole country. Some of the old Welsh customs remained within my memory, in spite of the adverse influence of the Calvinistic Reformation, as it is termed, and I have myself witnessed several Knitting Nights and Nuptial Feasts (Neithiorau), which, be it noticed, are not to be confounded with weddings, as they were feasts which followed the weddings, at the interval of a week. At these gatherings song and story formed an element of prime importance in the entertainment at a time when the Reformation alluded to had already blown the blast of extinction on the Merry Nights (Noswyliau Ỻawen) and Saints’ Fêtes1(Gwyliau Mabsant) before the days of my youth, though many of my aged acquaintances remembered them well, and retained a vivid recollection of scores of the amusing tales which used to be related for the best at the last mentioned long-night meetings. I have heard not a few of them reproduced by men of that generation. As an example of the old-fashioned habits of the people of Beđgelert in my early days, I may mention the way in which wives and children used to be named. The custom was that the wife never took her husband’s family name, but retained the one she had as a spinster. Thus my grandmother on my mother’s side was called Ellen Hughes, daughter to Hugh Williams,of Gwastad Annas. The name of her husband, my grandfather, was William Prichard [=W. ab Rhisiart, or Richard’s son], son to Richard William, of the Efail Newyđ. The name of their eldest son, my uncle (brother to my mother), was Hugh Hughes, and the second son’s name was Richard William. The mother had the privilege of naming her first-born after her own family in case it was a boy; but if it happened to be a girl, she took her name from the father’s family, for which reason my mother’s maiden name was Catharine Williams. This remained her name to the day of her death: and the old people at Beđgelert persisted in calling me, so long as I was at home, William Prichard, after my grandfather, as I was my mother’s eldest child.‘Most of the tales I have collected,’ says Mr. Jones, ‘relate to the parishes of Beđgelert and Dolwyđelen. My kindred have lived for generations in those two parishes, and they are very numerous: in fact, it used to be said that the people of Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert were all cousins. They were mostly small farmers, and jealous of all strangers, so that they married almost without exception from the one parish into the other. This intermixture helped to carry the tales of the one parish to the other, and to perpetuate them on the hearths of their homes from generation to generation, until they were swept away by another influence in this century. Many of my ancestors seem to have been very fond of stories, poetry, and singing, and I have been told that some of them were very skilled in these things. So also, in the case of my parents, the memory of the past had a great charm for them on both sides; and when the relatives from Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert met in either parish, there used to be no end to the recounting of pedigrees and the repeating of tales forthe best. By listening to them, I had been filled with desire to become an adept in pedigrees and legends. My parents used to let me go every evening to the house of my grandfather, William ab Rhisiart, the clerk, to listen to tales, and to hear edifying books read. My grandfather was a reader “without his rival,” and “he used to beat the parson hollow.” Many people used to meet at Pen y Bont in the evenings to converse together, and the stories of some of them were now and then exceedingly eloquent. Of course, I listened with eager ears and open mouth, in order, if I heard anything new, to be able to repeat it to my mother. She, unwilling to let herself be beaten, would probably relate another like it, which she had heard from her mother, her grandmother, or her old aunt of Gwastad Annas, who was a fairly good verse-wright of the homely kind. Then my father, if he did not happen to be busy with his music-book, would also give us a tale which he had heard from his grandmother or grandfather, the old John Jones, of Tyn Ỻan Dolwyđelen, or somebody else would do so. That is one source from which I got my knowledge of folklore; but this ceased when we moved from Beđgelert to Carnarvon in the year 1841. My grandfather died in 1844, aged seventy-eight.‘Besides those,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘who used to come to my grandfather’s house and to his workshop to relate stories, the blacksmith’s shop used to be, especially on a rainy day, a capital place for a story, and many a time did I lurk there instead of going to school, in order to hear old William Dafyđ, the sawyer, who, peace be to his ashes! drank many a hornful from theBig Quartwithout ever breaking down, and old Ifan Owen, the fisherman, tearing away for the best at their yarns, sometimes a tissue of lies and sometimes truth. The former was funny, and a great wag, up to all kindsof tricks. He made everybody laugh, whereas the latter would preserve the gravity of a saint, however lying might be the tale which he related. Ifan Owen’s best stories were about the Water Spirit, or, as he called it,Ỻamhigyn y Dwr, “the Water Leaper.” He had not himself seen theỺamhigyn, but his father had seen it “hundreds of times.” Many an evening it had prevented him from catching a single fish in Ỻyn Gwynan, and, when the fisherman got on this theme, his eloquence was apt to become highly polysyllabic in its adjectives. Once in particular, when he had been angling for hours towards the close of the day, without catching anything, he found that something took the fly clean off the hook each time he cast it. After moving from one spot to another on the lake, he fished opposite the Benlan Wen, when something gave his line a frightful pull, “and, by the gallows, I gave another pull,” the fisherman used to say, “with all the force of my arm: out it came, and up it went off the hook, whilst I turned round to see, as it dashed so against the cliff of Benlan that it blazed like a lightning.” He used to add, “If that was not theỺamhigyn, it must have been the very devil himself.” That cliff must be two hundred yards at least from the shore. As to his father, he had seen the Water Spirit many times, and he had also been fishing in the Ỻyn Glâs or Ffynnon Lâs, once upon a time, when he hooked a wonderful and fearful monster: it was not like a fish, but rather resembled a toad, except that it had a tail and wings instead of legs. He pulled it easily enough towards the shore, but, as its head was coming out of the water, it gave a terrible shriek that was enough to split the fisherman’s bones to the marrow, and, had there not been a friend standing by, he would have fallen headlong into the lake, and been possibly dragged like a sheep intothe depth; for there is a tradition that if a sheep got into the Ỻyn Glâs, it could not be got out again, as something would at once drag it to the bottom. This used to be the belief of the shepherds of Cwm Dyli, within my memory, and they acted on it in never letting their dogs go after the sheep in the neighbourhood of this lake. These two funny fellows, William Dafyđ and Ifan Owen, died long ago, without leaving any of their descendants blessed with as much as the faintest gossamer thread of the story-teller’s mantle. The former, if he had been still living, would now be no less than 129 years of age, and the latter about 120.’Mr. Jones proceeds to say that he had stories from sources besides those mentioned, namely, from Lowri Robart, wife of Rhisiart Edwart, the ‘Old Guide’; from his old aunt of Gwastad Annas; from William Wmffra, husband to his grandmother’s sister; from his grandmother, who was a native of Dolwyđelen, but had been brought up at Pwỻgwernog, in Nanmor; from her sister; and from Gruffuđ Prisiart, of Nanmor, afterwards of Glan Colwyn, who gave him the legend of Owen Lawgoch of which I shall have something to say later, and the story of the bogie of Pen Pwll Coch, which I do not know. ‘But the chief story-teller of his time at Beđgelert,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘was Twm Ifan Siams (pronounced Si̯ăms or Shăms), brother, I believe, to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of the Penrhyn, who was a bard and pedigree man. Twm lived at Nanmor, but I know not what his vocation was; his relatives, however, were small farmers, carpenters, and masons. It is not improbable that he was also an artisan, as he was conversant with numbers, magnitude, and letters, and left behind him a volume forming a pedigree book known at Nanmor as theBarcud Mawr, or “Great Kite,” as Gruffuđ Prisiart told me. The latter had been reading it manya time in order to know the origin of somebody or other. All I can remember of this character is that he was very old—over 90—and that he went from house to house in his old age to relate tales and recount pedigrees: great was the welcome he had from everybody everywhere. I remember, also, that he was small of stature, nimble, witty, exceedingly amusing, and always ready with his say on every subject. He was in the habit of calling on my grandfather in his rambles, and very cordial was the reception which my parents always gave him on account of his tales and his knowledge of pedigrees. The story of the afanc, as given in my collection, is from his mouth. You will observe how little difference there is between his version2and that known to Edward Ỻwyd in the year 1695. I had related this story to a friend of mine at Portmadoc, who was grandson or great-grandson to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of Penrhyn, in 1858, when he called my attention to the same story in theCambrian Journalfrom the correspondence of Edward Ỻwyd. I was surprised at the similarity between the two versions, and I went to Beđgelert to Gruffuđ Rhisiart, who was related to Twm Siôn Siams. I read the story to him, and I found that he had heard it related by his uncle just as it was by me, and as given in theCambrian Journal. Twm Ifan Siams had funny stories about the tricks ofGwrach y Rhibyn, theBodach3Glas, and theBwbach Ỻwyd, which he localized in Nanmor and Ỻanfrothen; he had, also, a very eloquent tale about the courtship between a sailor from Moel y Gest, near Portmadoc, and a mermaid, of which I retain a fairlygood recollection. I believe Twm died in the year 1835–6, aged about ninety-five.’So far, I have merely translated Mr. Jones’ account of himself and his authorities as given me in the letter I have already referred to, dated in June of last year, 1881. I would now add the substance of his general remarks about the fairies, as he had heard them described, and as he expressed himself in his essay for the competition on folklore at the Carnarvon Eisteđfod of 1880:—The traditions, he says, respecting theTylwyth Tegvary according to the situation of the districts with which they are connected, and many more such traditions continue to be remembered among the inhabitants of the mountains than by those of the more level country. In some places theTylwyth Tegare described as a small folk of a thieving nature, living in summer among the fern bushes in the mountains, and in winter in the heather and gorse. These were wont to frequent the fairs and to steal money from the farmers’ pockets, where they placed in its stead their own fairy money, which looked like the coin of the realm, but when it was paid for anything bought it would vanish in the pockets of the seller. In other districts the fairies were described as a little bigger and stronger folk; but these latter were also of a thieving disposition. They would lurk around people’s houses, looking for an opportunity to steal butter and cheese from the dairies, and they skulked about the cow-yards, in order to milk the cows and the goats, which they did so thoroughly that many a morning there was not a drop of milk to be had. The principal mischief, however, which those used to do, was to carry away unbaptized infants, and place in their stead their own wretched and peevish offspring. They were said to live in hidden caves in the mountains, and he had heard one old man asserting his firmbelief that it was beneath Moel Eilio, also called Moel Eilian, a mountain lying between Ỻanberis and Cweỻyn, theTylwyth Tegof Nant y Bettws lived, whom he had seen many a time when he was a lad; and, if any one came across the mouth of their cave, he thought that he would find there a wonderful amount of wealth, ‘for they were thieves without their like.’ There is still another species ofTylwyth Teg, very unlike the foregoing ones in their nature and habits. Not only was this last kind far more beautiful and comely than the others, but they were honest and good towards mortals. Their whole nature was replete with joy and fun, nor were they ever beheld hardly, except engaged in some merry-making or other. They might be seen on bright moonlight nights at it, singing and carolling playfully on the fair meadows and the green slopes, at other times dancing lightly on the tops of the rushes in the valleys. They were also wont to be seen hunting in full force on the backs of their grey horses; for this kind were rich, and kept horses and servants. Though it used to be said that they were spiritual and immortal beings, still they ate and drank like human beings: they married and had children. They were also remarkable for their cleanliness, and they were wont to reward neat maid-servants and hospitable wives. So housewives used to exhort their maids to clean their houses thoroughly every night before going to bed, saying that if theTylwyth Teghappened to enter, they would be sure to leave money for them somewhere; but they were to tell no one in case they found any, lest theTylwythshould be offended and come no more. The mistresses also used to order a tinful of water to be placed at the foot of the stairs, a clean cloth on the table, with bread and its accompaniments (bara ac enỻyn) placed on it, so that, if theTylwythcame in to eat, the maids shouldhave their recompense on the hob as well as unstinted praise for keeping the house clean, or, as Mr. Jones has it in a couplet from Goronwy Owen’sCywyđ y Cynghorfynt—Cael eu rhent ar y pentan,A ỻwyr glod o bai ỻawr glân.Finding the fairies’ pay on the hob,With full credit for a clean floor.Thus, whether the fairies came or not to pay a visit to them during their sleep, the house would be clean by the morning, and the table ready set for breakfast. It appears that the places most frequently resorted to by this species were rushy combes surrounded by smooth hills with round tops, also the banks of rivers and the borders of lakes; but they were seldom seen at any time near rocks or cliffs. So more tales about them are found in districts of the former description than anywhere else, and among them may be mentioned Penmachno, Dolwyđelan, the sides of Moel Siabod, Ỻandegái Mountain, and from there to Ỻanberis, to Nantỻe Lakes, to Moel Tryfan4and Nant y Bettws, the upper portion of the parish of Beđgelert from Drws y Coed to the Pennant, and the district beginning from there and including the level part of Eifion, on towards Celynnog Fawr. I have very little doubt that there are many traditions about them in the neighbourhood of the Eifl and in Ỻeyn; I know but little, however, about these last. This kind of fairies was said to live underground, and the way to their country lay under hollow banks that overhung the deepest parts of the lakes, or the deepest pools in the rivers, so that mortals could not follow them further than the water, should they try to go after them. They used to come out in broad daylight,two or three together, and now and then a shepherd, so the saying went, used to talk and chat with them. Sometimes, moreover, he fell over head and ears in love with their damsels, but they did not readily allow a mortal to touch them. The time they were to be seen in their greatest glee was at night when the moon was full, when they celebrated a merry night (noswaith lawen). At midnight to the minute, they might be seen rising out of the ground in every combe and valley; then, joining hands, they would form into circles, and begin to sing and dance with might and main until the cock crew, when they would vanish. Many used to go to look at them on those nights, but it was dangerous to go too near them, lest they should lure the spectator into their circle; for if that happened, they would throw a charm over him, which would make him invisible to his companions, and he would be detained by the fairies as long as he lived. At times some people went too near to them, and got snatched in; and at other times a love-inspired youth, fascinated by the charms of one of their damsels, rushed in foolhardily to try to seize one of them, and became instantly surrounded and concealed from sight. If he could be got out before the cock crew he would be no worse; but once the fairies disappeared without his having been released, he would never more be seen in the land of the living. The way to get the captured man out was to take a long stick of mountain ash (pren criafol), which two or more strong men had to hold with one of its ends in the middle of the circle, so that when the man came round in his turn in the dance he might take hold of it, for he is there bodily though not visible, so that he cannot go past without coming across the stick. Then the others pull him out, for the fairies, no more than any other spirit, dare touch the mountain ash.We now proceed to give some of Mr. Jones’ legends. The first is one which he published in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 70, whence the following free translation is made of it:—‘In the north-west corner of the parish of Beđgelert there is a place which used to be called by the old inhabitants the Land of the Fairies, and it reaches from Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ along the slope of the mountain of Drws y Coed as far as Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The old people of former times used to find much pleasure and amusement in this district in listening every moonlight night to the charming music of the fair family, and in looking at their dancing and their mirthful sports. Once on a time, a long while ago, there lived at upper Drws y Coed a youth, who was joyous and active, brave and determined of heart. This young man amused himself every night by looking on and listening to them. One night they had come to a field near the house, near the shore of Ỻyn y Dywarchen, to pass a merry night. He went, as usual, to look at them, when his glances at once fell on one of the ladies, who possessed such beauty as he had never seen in a human being. Her appearance was like that of alabaster; her voice was as agreeable as the nightingale’s, and as unruffled as the zephyr in a flower-garden at the noon of a long summer’s day; and her gait was pretty and aristocratic; her feet moved in the dance as lightly on the grass as the rays of the sun had a few hours before on the lake hard by. He fell in love with her over head and ears, and in the strength of that passion—for what is stronger than love!—he rushed, when the bustle was at its height, into the midst of the fair crowd, and snatched the graceful damsel in his arms, and ran instantly with her to the house. When the fair family saw the violence used by a mortal, they broke up the dance and ran after hertowards the house; but, when they arrived, the door had been bolted with iron, wherefore they could not get near her or touch her in any way; and the damsel had been placed securely in a chamber. The youth, having her now under his roof, as is the saying, endeavoured, with all his talent, to win her affection and to induce her to wed. But at first she would on no account hear of it; on seeing his persistence, however, and on finding that he would not let her go to return to her people, she consented to be his servant if he could find out her name; but she would not be married to him. As he thought that was not impossible, he half agreed to the condition; but, after bothering his head with all the names known in that neighbourhood, he found himself no nearer his point, though he was not willing to give up the search hurriedly. One night, as he was going home from Carnarvon market, he saw a number of the fair folks in a turbary not far from his path. They seemed to him to be engaged in an important deliberation, and it struck him that they were planning how to recover their abducted sister. He thought, moreover, that if he could secretly get within hearing, he might possibly find her name out. On looking carefully around, he saw that a ditch ran through the turbary and passed near the spot where they stood. So he made his way round to the ditch, and crept, on all fours, along it until he was within hearing of the family. After listening a little, he found that their deliberation was as to the fate of the lady he had carried away, and he heard one of them crying, piteously, “O Penelop, O Penelop, my sister, why didst thou run away with a mortal!” “Penelop,” said the young man to himself, “that must be the name of my beloved: that is enough.” At once he began to creep back quietly, and he returned home safely without having been seen by the fairies.When he got into the house, he called out to the girl, saying, “Penelop, my beloved one, come here!” and she came forward and asked, in astonishment, “O mortal, who has betrayed my name to thee?” Then, lifting up her tiny folded hands, she exclaimed, “Alas, my fate, my fate!” But she grew contented with her fate, and took to her work in earnest. Everything in the house and on the farm prospered under her charge. There was no better or cleanlier housewife in the neighbourhood around, or one that was more provident than she. The young man, however, was not satisfied that she should be a servant to him, and, after he had long and persistently sought it, she consented to be married, on the one condition, that, if ever he should touch her with iron, she would be free to leave him and return to her family. He agreed to that condition, since he believed that such a thing would never happen at his hands. So they were married, and lived several years happily and comfortably together. Two children were born to them, a boy and a girl, the picture of their mother and the idols of their father. But one morning, when the husband wanted to go to the fair at Carnarvon, he went out to catch a filly that was grazing in the field by the house; but for the life of him he could not catch her, and he called to his wife to come to assist him. She came without delay, and they managed to drive the filly to a secure corner, as they thought; but, as the man approached to catch her, she rushed past him. In his excitement, he threw the bridle after her; but, who should be running in the direction of it, but his wife! The iron bit struck her on the cheek, and she vanished out of sight on the spot. Her husband never saw her any more; but one cold frosty night, a long time after this event, he was awakened from his sleep by somebody rubbing the glass of his window, and, after he had givena response, he recognized the gentle and tender voice of his wife saying to him:—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.It is said that the descendants of this family still continue in these neighbourhoods, and that they are easy to be recognized by their light and fair complexion. A similar story is related of the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, in Ỻanfihangel y Pennant, and it used to be said that most of the inhabitants of that neighbourhood were formerly of a light complexion. I have often heard old people saying, that it was only necessary, within their memory, to point out in the fair at Penmorfa any one as being of the breed of theTylwyth, to cause plenty of fighting that day at least.’The reader may compare with this tale the following, for which I have to thank Mr. Samuel Rhys Williams, whose words I give, followed by a translation:—Yr oeđ gwr ieuanc o gymydogaeth Drws y Coed yn dychwelyd adref o Beđgelert ar noswaith loergan ỻeuad; pan ar gyfer Ỻyn y Gader gwelai nifer o’r boneđigesau a elwir y Tylwyth Teg yn myned trwy eu chwareuon nosawl. Swynwyd y ỻanc yn y fan gan brydferthwch y rhianod hyn, ac yn neiỻduol un o honynt. Coỻođ y ỻywodraeth arno ei hunan i’r fath rađau fel y penderfynođ neidio i’r cylch a dwyn yn ysbail iđo yr hon oeđ wedi myned a’i galon mor ỻwyr. Cyflawnođ ei fwriad a dygođ y foneđiges gydag ef adref. Bu yn wraig iđo, a ganwyd plant iđynt. Yn đamweiniol, tra yn cyflawni rhyw orchwyl, digwyđođ iđo ei tharo a haiarn ac ar amrantiad diflannođ ei anwylyd o’i olwg ac nis gwelođ hi mwyach, ond đarfod iđi đyfod at ffenestr ei ystafeỻ wely un noswaith ar ol hyn a’i annog i fod yn dirion wrth y plant a’i bod hi yn aros gerỻaw y tyyn Ỻyny Dywarchen. Y mae y trađodiad hefyd yn ein hysbysu đarfod i’r gwr hwn symud i fyw o Đrws y Coed i Ystrad Betws Garmon.‘A young man, from the neighbourhood of Drws y Coed, was returning home one bright moonlight night, from Beđgelert; when he came opposite the lake called Ỻyn y Gader, he saw a number of the ladies known as theTylwyth Teggoing through their nightly frolics. The youth was charmed at once by the beauty of these ladies, and especially by one of them. He so far lost his control over himself, that he resolved to leap into the circle and carry away as his spoil the one who had so completely robbed him of his heart. He accomplished his intention, and carried the lady home with him. She became his wife, and children were born to them. Accidentally, while at some work or other, it happened to him to strike her with iron, and, in the twinkling of an eye, his beloved one disappeared from his sight. He saw her no more, except that she came to his bedroom window one night afterwards, and told him to be tender to the children, and that she was staying, near the house, in the lake called Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The tradition also informs us that this man moved from Drws y Coed to live at Ystrad near Bettws Garmon.’The name Ỻyn y Dywarchen, I may add, means the Lake of the Sod or Turf: it is the one with the floating island, described thus by Giraldus, ii. 9 (p. 135):—Alter enim insulam habet erraticam, vi ventorum impellentium ad oppositas plerumque lacus partes errabundam. Hic armenta pascentia nonnunquam pastores ad longinquas subito partes translata mirantur.‘For one of the two lakes holds a wandering island, which strays mostly with the force of the winds impelling it to the opposite parts of the lake. Sometimes cattle grazing on it are,to the surprise of the shepherds, suddenly carried across to the more distant parts.’ Sheep are known to get on the floating islet, and it is still believed to float them away from the shore. Mr. S. Rhys Williams, it will be noticed, has given the substance of the legend rather than the story itself. I now proceed to translate the same tale as given in Welsh inCymru Fu(pp. 474–7 of the edition published by Messrs. Hughes and Son, Wrexham), in a very different dress—it is from Glasynys’ pen, and, as might be expected, decked out with all the literary adornments in which he delighted. The language he used was his own, but there is no reason to think that he invented any of the incidents:—‘The farmer of Drws y Coed’s son was one misty day engaged as a shepherd on the side of the mountain, a little below Cwm Marchnad, and, as he crossed a rushy flat, he saw a wonderfully handsome little woman standing under a clump of rushes. Her yellow and curly hair hung down in ringed locks, and her eyes were as blue as the clear sky, while her forehead was as white as the wavy face of a snowdrift that has nestled on the side of Snowdon only a single night. Her two plump cheeks were each like a red rose, and her pretty-lipped mouth might make an angel eager to kiss her. The youth approached her, filled with love for her, and, with delicacy and affection, asked her if he might converse with her. She smiled kindly, and reaching out her hand, said to him, “Idol of my hopes, thou hast come at last!” They began to associate secretly, and to meet one another daily here and there on the moors around the banks of Ỻyn y Gader; at last, their love had waxed so strong that the young man could not be at peace either day or night, as he was always thinking of Bella or humming to himself a verse of poetry about her charms. The yellow-haired youth was now andthen lost for a long while, and nobody could divine his history. His acquaintances believed that he had been fascinated: at last the secret was found out. There were about Ỻyn y Dywarchen shady and concealing copses: it was there he was wont to go, and the she-elf would always be there awaiting him, and it was therefore that the place where they used to meet got to be calledỺwyn y Forwyn, the Maiden’s Grove. After fondly loving for a long time, it was resolved to wed; but it was needful to get the leave of the damsel’s father. One moonlight night it was agreed to meet in the wood, and the appointment was duly kept by the young man, but there was no sign of the subterranean folks coming, until the moon disappeared behind the Garn. Then the two arrived, and the old man at once proceeded to say to the suitor: “Thou shalt have my daughter on the condition that thou do not strike her with iron. If thou ever touch her with iron, she will no longer be thine, but shall return to her own.” The man consented readily, and great was his joy. They were betrothed, and seldom was a handsomer pair seen at the altar. It was rumoured that a vast sum of money as dowry had arrived with the pretty lady at Drws y Coed on the evening of her nuptials. Soon after, the mountain shepherd of Cwm Marchnad passed for a very rich and influential man. In the course of time they had children, and no happier people ever lived together than their parents. Everything went on regularly and prosperously for a number of years: they became exceedingly wealthy, but the sweet is not to be had without the bitter. One day they both went out on horseback, and they happened to go near Ỻyn y Gader, when the wife’s horse got into a bog and sank to his belly. After the husband had got Bella off his back, he succeeded with much trouble in getting the horse out, and thenhe let him go. Then he lifted her on the back of his own, but, unfortunately, in trying quickly to place her foot in the stirrup, the iron part of the same slipped, and struck her—or, rather, it touched her at the knee-joint. Before they had made good half their way home, several of the diminutiveTylwythbegan to appear to them, and the sound of sweet singing was heard on the side of the hill. Before the husband reached Drws y Coed his wife had left him, and it is supposed that she fled to Ỻwyn y Forwyn, and thence to the world below to Faery. She left her dear little ones to the care of her beloved, and no more came near them. Some say, however, that she sometimes contrived to see her beloved one in the following manner. As the law of her country did not permit her to frequent the earth with an earthly being, she and her mother invented a way of avoiding the one thing and of securing the other. A great piece of sod was set to float on the surface of the lake, and on that she used to be for long hours, freely conversing in tenderness with her consort on shore; by means of that plan they managed to live together until he breathed his last. Their descendants owned Drws y Coed for many generations, and they intermarried and mixed with the people of the district. Moreover, many a fierce fight took place in later times at theGwyl-fabsantat Dolbenmaen or at Penmorfa, because the men of Eifionyđ had a habit of annoying the people of Pennant by calling them Bellisians.’In a note, Glasynys remarks that this tale is located in many districts without much variation, except in the names of the places; this, however, could not apply to the latter part, which suits Ỻyn y Dywarchen alone. With this account of the fairy wife frequenting a lake island to converse with her husband on shore, compare the Irish story of the Children of Lir, who, thoughtransformed into swans, were allowed to retain their power of reasoning and speaking, so that they used to converse from the surface of the water with their friends on the dry land: see Joyce’sOld Celtic Romances, pp. x, 1–36. Now I return to another tale which was sent me by Mr. William Jones: unless I am mistaken it has not hitherto been published; so I give the Welsh together with a free translation of it:—Yr oeđ ystori am fab Braich y Dinas a adrođai y diweđar hybarch Elis Owen o Gefn y Meusyđ yn ỻed debyg i chwedl mab yr Ystrad gan Glasynys, sef iđo hudo un o ferched y Tylwyth Teg i lawr o Foel Hebog, a’i chipio i mewn i’r ty drwy orthrech; ac wedi hynny efe a’i perswadiođ i ymbriodi ag ef ar yr un telerau ag y gwnaeth mab yr Ystrad. Ond clywais hen foneđiges o’r enw Mrs. Roberts, un o ferched yr Isaỻt, oeđ lawer hyn na Mr. Owen, yn ei hadrođ yn wahanol. Yr oeđ yr hen wreigan hon yn credu yn nilysrwyđ y chwedl, oblegid yr oeđ hi ‘yn cofio rhai o’r teulu, waeth be’ đeudo neb.’ Dirwynnai ei hedau yn debyg i hyn:—Yn yr amser gynt—ond o ran hynny pan oeđ hi yn ferch ifanc—yr oeđ ỻawer iawn o Dylwyth Teg yn trigo mewn rhyw ogofau yn y Foel o Gwm Ystradỻyn hyd i flaen y Pennant. Yr oeđ y Tylwyth hwn yn ỻawer iawn harđach na dim a welid mewn un rhan araỻ o’r wlad. Yr oeđynt o ran maint yn fwy o lawer na’r rhai cyffredin, yn lan eu pryd tu hwnt i bawb, eu gwaỻt yn oleu fel ỻin, eu ỻygaid yn loyw leision. Yr oeđynt yn ymđangos mewn rhyw le neu gilyđ yn chwareu, canu ac ymđifyru bob nos deg a goleu; a byđai swn eu canu yn denu y ỻanciau a’r merched ifainc i fyned i’w gweled; ac os byđent yn digwyđ bod o bryd goleu hwy a ymgomient a hwynt, ond ni adawent i un person o liw tywyỻ đod yn agos atynt, eithr cilient ymaith o fforđ y cyfryw un. Yrŵan yr oeđ mab Braich y Dinas yn ỻanc harđ, heini, bywiog ac o bryd glan, goleu a serchiadol. Yr oeđhwn yn hoff iawn o edrych ar y Tylwyth, a byđai yn cael ymgom a rhai o honynt yn aml, ond yn bennaf ag un o’r merched oeđ yn rhagori arnynt oỻ mewn glendid a synwyr; ac o fynych gyfarfod syrthiođ y đau mewn cariad a’u gilyđ, eithr ni fynai hi ymbriodi ag ef, ond ađawođ fyned i’w wasanaeth, a chydunođ i’w gyfarfod yn Mhant—nid wyf yn cofio yr enw i gyd—drannoeth, oblegid nid oeđ wiw iđi geisio myned gydag ef yn ngwyđ y ỻeiỻ. Feỻy drannoeth aeth i fynu i’r Foel, a chyfarfyđođ y rhian ef yn ol ei hađewid, ag aeth gydag ef adref, ac ymgymerođ a’r swyđ o laethwraig, a buan y dechreuođ popeth lwyđo o dan ei ỻaw: yr oeđ yr ymenyn a’r caws yn cynhyđu beunyđ. Hir a thaer y bu’r ỻanc yn ceisio ganđi briodi. A hi a ađawođ, os medrai ef gael aỻan ei henw. Ni wyđai Mrs. Roberts drwy ba ystryw y ỻwyđođ i gael hwnnw, ond hynny a fu, a daeth ef i’r ty un noswaith a galwođ ar ‘Sibi,’ a phan glywođ hi ei henw, hi a aeth i lewygfa; ond pan đaeth ati ei hun, hi a ymfođlonođ i briodi ar yr amod nad oeđ ef i gyffwrđ a hi a haiarn ac nad oeđ boỻt haiarn i fod ar y drws na chlo ychwaith, a hynny a fu: priodwyd hwynt, a buont fyw yn gysurus am lawer o flynyđoeđ, a ganwyd iđynt amryw blant. Y diweđ a fu fel hyn: yr oeđ ef wedi myned un diwrnod i dori baich o frwyn at doi, a tharawođ y cryman yn y baich i fyned adref; fel yr oeđ yn nesu at y gadlas, rhedođ Sibi i’w gyfarfod, a thaflođ ynteu y baich brwyn yn đireidus tu ag ati, a rhag iđo đyfod ar ei thraws ceisiođ ei atal a’i ỻaw, yr hon a gyffyrđođ a’r cryman; a hi a điflannođ o’r golwg yn y fan yn nghysgod y baich brwyn: ni welwyd ac ni chlywyd dim ođiwrthi mwyach.‘There was a story respecting the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, which used to be told by the late respected Mr. Ellis Owen, of Cefn y Meusyđ, somewhat in the same way as that about the Ystrad youth, as told by Glasynys; that is to say, the young man enticed oneof the damsels of the fair family to come down from Moel Hebog, and then he carried her by force into the house, and afterwards persuaded her to become his wife on the same conditions as the heir of Ystrad did. But I have heard an old lady called Mrs. Roberts, who had been brought up at Isaỻt, and who was older than Mr. Owen, relating it differently. This old woman believed in the truth of the story, as “she remembered some of the family, whatever anybody may say.” She used to spin her yarn somewhat as follows:—In old times—but, for the matter of that, when she was a young woman—there were a great many of the fair family living in certain caves in the Foel from CwmStráỻyn5down to the upper part of Pennant. ThisTylwythwas much handsomer than any seen in any other part of the country. In point of stature they were much bigger than the ordinary ones, fair of complexion beyond everybody, with hair that was as light as flax, and eyes that were of a clear blue colour. They showed themselves in one spot or another, engaged in playing, singing, and jollity every light night. The sound of their singing used to draw the lads and the young women to look at them; and, should they be of clear complexion, the fairies would chat with them; but they would let no person of a dark hue come near them: they moved away from such a one. Now the young man of Braich y Dinas was a handsome, vigorous, and lively stripling of fair, clear, and attractive complexion. He was very fond of looking at the fair family, and had a chat with some of them often,but chiefly with one of the damsels, who surpassed all the rest in beauty and good sense. The result of frequently meeting was that they fell in love with one another, but she would not marry him. She promised, however, to go to service to him, and agreed to meet him at Pant y—I have forgotten the rest of the name—the day after, as it would not do for her to go with him while the others happened to be looking on. So he went up the next day to the Foel, and the damsel met him according to her promise, and went with him home, where she took to the duties of a dairymaid. Soon everything began to prosper under her hand; the butter and the cheese were daily growing in quantity. Long and importunately did the youth try to get her to marry him. She promised to do so provided he could find out her name. Mrs. Roberts did not know by what manœuvre he succeeded in discovering it, but it was done, and he came into the house one night and called to “Sibi,” and when she heard her name she fainted away. When, however, she recovered her consciousness, she consented to marry on the condition that he was not to touch her with iron, and that there was not to be a bolt of iron on the door, or a lock either. It was agreed, and they were married; they lived together comfortably many years, and had children born to them. The end came thus: he had gone one day to cut a bundle of rushes for thatching, and planted the reaping-hook in the bundle to go home. As he drew towards the haggard, Sibi ran out to meet him, and he wantonly threw the bundle of rushes towards her, when she, to prevent its hitting her, tried to stop it with her hand, which touched the reaping-hook. She vanished on the spot out of sight behind the bundle of rushes, and nothing more was seen or heard of her.’Mr. Ellis Owen, alluded to above, was a highly respected gentleman, well known in North Wales for his literary and antiquarian tastes. He was born in 1789 at Cefn y Meusyđ near Tremadoc, where he continued to live till the day of his death, which was January 27, 1868. His literary remains, preceded by a short biography, were published in 1877 by Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc; but it contains no fairy tales so far as I have been able to find.A tale which partially reminds one of that given by Dewi Glan Ffrydlas respecting the Corwrion midwife, referred to at p. 63 above, was published by Mr. W. Jones in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 251: freely rendered into English, it runs thus:—‘Once on a time, when a midwife from Nanhwynan had newly got to the Hafođyđ Brithion to pursue her calling, a gentleman came to the door on a fine grey steed and bade her come with him at once. Such was the authority with which he spoke, that the poor midwife durst not refuse to go, however much it was her duty to stay where she was. So she mounted behind him, and off they went, like the flight of a swallow, through Cwmỻan, over the Bwlch, down Nant yr Aran, and over the Gader to Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ, before the poor woman had time even to say Oh! When they reached there, she saw before her a magnificent mansion, splendidly lit up with such lamps as she had never seen before. They entered the court, and a crowd of servants in expensive liveries came to meet them, and she was at once led through the great hall into a bed-chamber, the like of which she had never seen. There the mistress of the house, to whom she had been fetched, was awaiting her. The midwife got through her duties successfully, and stayed there until the lady had completely recovered, nor had she spent any part of herlife so merrily, for there nought but festivity went on day and night: dancing, singing, and endless rejoicing reigned there. But merry as it was, she found that she must go, and the nobleman gave her a large purse, with the order not to open it until she had got into her own house. Then he bade one of his servants escort her the same way that she had come. When she reached home she opened the purse, and, to her great joy, it was full of money: she lived happily on those earnings to the end of her life.’With this ending of the story one should contrast Dewi Glan Ffrydlas’ tale to which I have already alluded; and I may here refer to Mr. Sikes’British Goblins, pp. 86–8, for a tale differing from both Dewi’s and Jones’, in that the fairies are there made to appear as devils to the nurse, who had accidentally used a certain ointment which she was not to place near her own eyes. Instead of being rewarded for her services she was only too glad to be deposited anyhow near her home. ‘But,’ as the story goes on to relate, ‘very many years afterwards, being at a fair, she saw a man stealing something from a stall, and, with one corner of her eye, beheld her old master pushing the man’s elbow. Unthinkingly she said, “How are you, master? how are the children?” He said, “How did you see me?” She answered, “With the corner of my left eye.” From that moment she was blind of her left eye, and lived many years with only her right.’ Such is the end of this tale given by Mr. Sikes.‘But the fair family did not,’ Mr. William Jones goes on to say, ‘always give mortals the means of good living: sometimes they made no little fun of them. Once on a time the Drws y Coed man was going home from Beđgelert Fair, rather merry than sad, along the old road over the Gader, when he saw, on coming nearthe top of the Gader, a fine, handsome house near the road, in which there was a rare merrymaking. He knew perfectly well that there was no such a building anywhere on his way, and it made him think that he had lost his way and gone astray; so he resolved to turn into the house to ask for lodgings, which were given him. At once, when he entered, he took it to be a nuptial feast (neithior) by reason of the jollity, the singing, and the dancing. The house was full of young men, young women, and children, all merry, and exerting themselves to the utmost. The company began to disappear one by one, and he asked if he might go to bed, whereupon he was led to a splendid chamber, where there was a bed of the softest down with snow-white clothes on it. He stripped at once, went into it, and slept quietly enough till the morning. The first thing to come to his mind when he lay half asleep, half awake, was the jollity of the night before, and the fact of his sleeping in a splendid chamber in the strange house. He opened his eyes to survey his bedroom, but it was too wide: he was sleeping on the bare swamp, with a clump of rushes as his pillow, and the blue sky as his coverlet.’Mr. Jones mentions that, within his memory, there were still people in his neighbourhood who believed that the fairies stole unbaptized children and placed their own in their stead: he gives the following story about the farmer’s wife of Dyffryn Mymbyr, near Capel Curig, and her infant:—Yr oeđ y wraig hon wedi rhođi genedigaeth i blentyn iach a heinif yn nechreu y cynheuaf ryw haf blin a thymhestlog: ac o herwyđ fod y tyđyn getyn o fforđ ođiwrth lan na chapel, a’r hin mor hynod o lawiog, esgeuluswyd bedyđio y plentyn yn yr amser arferol, sef cyn ei fod yn wyth niwrnod oed. Ryw điwrnod teg ynnghanol y cynheuaf blin aeth y wraig aỻan i’r maes gyda’r rhelyw o’r teulu i geisio achub y cynheuaf, a gadawođ y baban yn cysgu yn ei gryd o dan ofal ei nain, yr hon oeđ hen a methiantus, ac yn anaỻuog i fyned lawer o gwmpas. Syrthiođ yr hen wreigan i gysgu, a thra yr oeđ hi feỻy, daeth y Tylwyth i fewn, a chymerasant y baban o’r cryd, a dodasant un araỻ yn ei le. Yn mhen ennyd dechreuođ hwn erain a chwyno nes deffro y nain, ac aeth at y cryd, ỻe y gwelođ gleiriach hen eiđil crebachlyd yn ymstwyrian yn flin. ‘O’r wchw!’ ebai hi, ‘y mae yr hen Dylwyth wedi bod yma;’ ac yn đioed chwythođ yn y corn i alw y fam, yr hon a đaeth yno yn điatreg; a phan glywođ y crio yn y cryd, rhedođ ato, a chodođ y bychan i fynu heb sylwi arno, a hi a’i cofleidiođ, a’i suođ ac a’i swcrođ at ei bronnau, ond nid oeđ dim yn tycio, parhau i nadu yn đidor yr oeđ nes bron a hoỻti ei chalon; ac ni wyđai pa beth i wneud i’w đistewi. O’r diweđ hi a edrychođ arno, a gwelođ nad oeđ yn debyg i’w mhebyn hi, ac aeth yn loes i’w chalon: edrychođ arno drachefn, ond po fwyaf yr edrychai arno, hyỻaf yn y byd oeđ hi yn ei weled; anfonođ am ei gwr o’r cae, a gyrrođ ef i ymholi am wr cyfarwyđ yn rhywle er mwyn cael ei gynghor; ac ar ol hir holi dywedođ rhywun wrtho fod person Trawsfynyđ yn gyfarwyđ yn nghyfrinion yr ysprydion; ac efe a aeth ato, ac archođ hwnnw iđo gymeryd rhaw a’i gorchuđio a halen, a thori ỻun croes yn yr halen; yna ei chymeryd i’r ystafeỻ ỻe yr oeđ mab y Tylwyth, ac ar ol agor y ffenestr, ei rhođi ar y tan hyd nes y ỻosgai yr halen; a hwy a wnaethant feỻy, a phan aeth yr halen yn eiriasboeth fe aeth yr erthyl croes ymaith yn anweledig iđynt hwy, ac ar drothwy y drws hwy a gawsant y baban araỻ yn iach a dianaf.‘This woman had given birth to a healthy and vigorous child at the beginning of the harvest, one wretched andinclement summer. As the homestead was a considerable distance from church or chapel, and the weather so very rainy, it was neglected to baptize the child at the usual6time, that is to say, before it was eight days old. One fine day, in the middle of this wretched harvest, the mother went to the field with the rest of the family to try to save the harvest, and left her baby sleeping in its cradle in its grandmother’s charge, who was so aged and decrepit as to be unable to go much about. The old woman fell asleep, and, while she was in that state, theTylwyth Tegcame in and took away the baby, placing another in its stead. Very shortly the latter began to whine and groan, so that the grandmother awoke: she went to the cradle, where she saw a slender, wizened old man moving restlessly and peevishly about. “Alas! alas!” said she, “the oldTylwythhave been here”; and she at once blew in the horn to call the mother home, who came without delay. As she heard the crying in the cradle, she ran towards it, and lifted the little one without looking at him; she hugged him, put him to her breast, and sang lullaby to him, but nothing was of any avail, as he continued, without stopping, to scream enough to break her heart; and she knew not what to do to calm him. At last she looked at him: she saw that he was not like her dear little boy, and her heart was pierced with agony. She looked at him again, and the more she examined him the uglier he seemed to her. She sent for her husband home from the field, and told him to search for a skilled man somewhere or other; and, after a long search, he was told by somebody that the parson of Trawsfynyđ was skilled in the secrets of the spirits;so he went to him. The latter bade him take a shovel and cover it with salt, and make the figure of the cross in the salt; then to take it to the chamber where the fairy child was, and, after taking care to open the window, to place the shovel on the fire until the salt was burnt. This was done, and when the salt had got white hot, the peevish abortion went away, seen of no one, and they found the other baby whole and unscathed at the doorstep.’ Fire was also made use of in Scotland in order to detect a changeling and force him to quit: see the British Association’sReport, 1896, p. 650, where Mr. Gomme refers to Mr. Gregor’sFolk-lore of the North-east of Scotland, pp. 8–9.In answer to a question of mine with regard to gossamer, which is called in North Walesedafeđ gwawn, ‘gwawnyarn,’ Mr. Jones told me in a letter, dated April, 1881, that it used to be calledRhaffau’r Tylwyth Teg, that is to say, the Ropes of the Fair Family, which were associated with the diminutive, mischievous, and wanton kind of fairies who dwelt in marshy and rushy places, or among the fern and the heather. It used to be said that, if a man should lie down and fall asleep in any such a spot, the fairies would come and bind him with their ropes so that he could not move, and that they would then cover him with a sheet made of their ropes, which would make him invisible. This was illustrated by him by the following tale he had heard from his mother:—Clywais fy mam yn adrođ chwedl am fab y Ffriđ, yr hwn wrth đychwelyd adref o ffair Beđgelert yn rhywle ođeutu Pen Cae’r Gors a welođ beth afrifed o’r Tylwyth Bach yn neidio a phrancio ar bennau y grug. Efe a eisteđođ i lawr i edrych arnynt, a daeth hun drosto; ymoỻyngođ i lawr a chysgođ yn drwm. A phan oeđ feỻy, ymosodođ yr hoỻ lu arno a rhwymasant ef mor dyn felna aỻasai symud; yna hwy a’i cuđiasant ef a’r tuđed gwawn fel na aỻai neb ei weled os digwyđai iđo lefain am help. Yr oeđ ei deulu yn ei đisgwyl adref yn gynnar y nos honno, ac wrth ei weled yn oedi yn hwyr, aethant yn anesmwyth am dano ac aethpwyd i’w gyfarfod, eithr ni welent đim ođiwrtho, ac aed gan beỻed a’r pentref, ỻe en hyspyswyd ei fod wedi myned tuag adref yn gynnar gyda gwr Hafod Ruffyđ. Feỻy aed tua’r Hafod i edrych a oeđ yno; ond dywedođ gwr yr Hafod eu bod wedi ymwahanu ar Bont Glan y Gors, pawb tua’i fan ei hun. Yna chwiliwyd yn fanwl bob ochr i’r fforđ ođiyno i’r Ffriđ heb weled dim ođiwrtho. Buwyd yn chwilio yr hoỻ ardal drwy y dyđ drannoeth ond yn ofer. Fođ bynnag ođeutu yr un amser nos drannoeth daeth y Tylwyth ac a’i rhyđhasant, ac yn fuan efe a đeffrôđ wedi cysgu o hono drwy y nos a’r dyđ blaenorol. Ar ol iđo đeffro ni wyđai amcan daear yn mha le yr oeđ, a chrwydro y bu hyd ochrau y Gader a’r Gors Fawr hyd nes y canođ y ceiliog, pryd yr adnabu yn mha le yr oeđ, sef o fewn ỻai na chwarter miỻtir i’w gartref.‘I have heard my mother relating a tale about the son of the farmer of the Ffriđ, who, while on his way home from Beđgelert Fair, saw, somewhere near Pen Cae’r Gors, an endless number of the diminutive family leaping and capering on the heather tops. He sat him down to look at them, and sleep came over him; he let himself down on the ground, and slept heavily. When he was so, the whole host attacked him, and they bound him so tightly that he could not have stirred; then they covered him with the gossamer sheet, so that nobody could see him in case he called for help. His people expected him home early that evening, and, as they found him delaying till late, they got uneasy about him. They went to meet him, but no trace of him was seen,and they went as far as the village, where they were informed that he had started home in good time with the farmer of Hafod Ruffyđ. So they went to the Hafod to see if he was there; but the farmer told them that they had parted on Glan y Gors Bridge to go to their respective homes. A minute search was then made on both sides of the road from there to the Ffriđ, but without finding any trace of him. They kept searching the whole neighbourhood during the whole of the next day, but in vain. However, about the same time the following night theTylwythcame and liberated him, and he shortly woke up, after sleeping through the previous night and day. When he woke he had no idea where on earth he was; so he wandered about on the slopes of the Gader and near the Gors Fawr until the cock crew, when he found where he was, namely, less than a quarter of a mile from his home.’The late Mr. Owen, of Cefn Meusyđ, has already been alluded to. I have not been able to get at much of the folklore with which he was familiar, but, in reply to some questions of mine, Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc, his biographer, and the publisher of theBrython, so long as it existed, has kindly ransacked his memory. He writes to me in Welsh to the following effect:—‘I will tell you what I heard from Mr. Owen and my mother when I was a lad, about fifty-seven years ago. The former used to say that the people of Pennant in Eifionyđ had a nickname, to wit, that ofBelsiaid y Pennant, “the Bellisians of the Pennant”; that, when he was a boy, if anybody called outBelsiaid y Pennantat the Penmorfa Fair, every man jack of them would come out, and fighting always ensued. The antiquary used to explain it thus. Some two or three hundred years ago, Sir Robert of the Nant, one of Sir Richard Bulkeley’s ancestors, had a son and heir who was extravagantand wild. He married a gipsy, and they had children born to them; but, as the family regarded this marriage as a disgrace to their ancient stem, it is said that the father, the next time the vagabonds came round, gave a large sum of money to the father of the girl for taking her away with him. This having been done, the rumour was spread abroad that it was one of the fairies the youth had married, and that she had gone with him to catch a pony, when he threw the bridle at the beast to prevent it passing, and the iron of the bridle touched the wife; then that she at once disappeared, as the fairies always do so when touched with iron. However, the two children were put out to nurse, and the one of them, who was a girl, was brought up at Plas y Pennant, and her name wasPelisha7; her descendants remain to this day in the Nant, and are called Bellis, who are believed there, to this day, to be derived from theTylwyth Teg. Nothing offends them more than to be reminded of this.’Mr. R. I. Jones goes on to relate another tale as follows:—Dywedir fod ỻe a elwir yr Hafod Rugog mewn cwm anial yn y mynyđ ỻe y byđai y Tylwyth Teg yn arferol a mynychu; ac y byđent yn trwblio’r hen wraig am fenthyg rhywbeth neu gilyđ. Dywedođ hithau, ‘Cewch os caniatewch đau beth cyntaf—i’r peth cyntaf y cyffyrđaf ag ef wrth y drws dorri, a’r peth cyntaf y rhof fy ỻaw arno yn y ty estyn hanner ỻath.’ Yr oeđ carreg afael, fel ei gelwir, yn y mur wrth y drws ar ei fforđ, ac yr oeđ ganđi đefnyđ syrcyn gwlanen yn rhy fyr o hanner ỻath. Ond yn anffodus wrth đod a’i chaweỻad mawn i’r ty bu agos iđi a syrthio: rhoes ei ỻaw ar ben ei chlun i ymarbed a thorođ honno, a chan faint y boen cyffyrđođ yny ty a’i thrwyn yr hwn a estynnođ hanner ỻath.‘It is said that there was a place called Hafod Rugog in a wild hollow among the mountains, where the fair family were in the habit of resorting, and that they used to trouble the old woman of Hafod for the loan of one thing and another. So she said, one day, “You shall have the loan if you will grant me two first things—that the first thing I touch at the door break, and that the first thing I put my hand on in the house be lengthened half a yard.” There was a grip stone (carreg afael), as it is called, in the wall near the door, which was in her way, and she had in the house a piece of flannel for a jerkin which was half a yard too short. But, unfortunately, as she came, with her kreel full of turf on her back, to the house, she nearly fell down: she put her hand, in order to save herself, to her knee-joint, which then broke; and, owing to the pain, when she had got into the house, she touched her nose with her hand, when her nose grew half a yard longer.’Mr. Jones went on to notice how the old folks used to believe that the fairies were wont to appear in the marshes near Cweỻyn Lake, not far from Rhyd-Đu, to sing and dance, and that it was considered dangerous to approach them on those occasions lest one should be fascinated. As to the above-mentioned flannel and stone a folklorist asks me, why the old woman did not definitely mention them and say exactly what she wanted. The question is worth asking: I cannot answer it, but I mention it in the hope that somebody else will.

I.The best living authority I have found on the folklore of Beđgelert, Drws y Coed, and the surrounding district, is Mr. William Jones, of Ỻangoỻen. He has written a good deal on the subject in theBrython, and in essays intended for competition at various literary meetings in Wales. I had the loan from him of one such essay, and I have referred to theBrython; and I have also had from Mr. Jones a number of letters, most of which contain some additional information. In harmony, moreover, with my usual practice, I have asked Mr. Jones to give me a little of his own history. This he has been kind enough to do; and, as I have so far followed no particular order in these jottings, I shall now give the reader the substance of his letters in English, as I am anxious that no item should be lost or left inaccessible to English students of folklore. What is unintelligible to me may not be so to those who have made a serious study of the subject. Mr. Jones’ words are in substance to the following effect:—‘I was bred and born in the parish of Beđgelert,one of the most rustic neighbourhoods and least subject to change in the whole country. Some of the old Welsh customs remained within my memory, in spite of the adverse influence of the Calvinistic Reformation, as it is termed, and I have myself witnessed several Knitting Nights and Nuptial Feasts (Neithiorau), which, be it noticed, are not to be confounded with weddings, as they were feasts which followed the weddings, at the interval of a week. At these gatherings song and story formed an element of prime importance in the entertainment at a time when the Reformation alluded to had already blown the blast of extinction on the Merry Nights (Noswyliau Ỻawen) and Saints’ Fêtes1(Gwyliau Mabsant) before the days of my youth, though many of my aged acquaintances remembered them well, and retained a vivid recollection of scores of the amusing tales which used to be related for the best at the last mentioned long-night meetings. I have heard not a few of them reproduced by men of that generation. As an example of the old-fashioned habits of the people of Beđgelert in my early days, I may mention the way in which wives and children used to be named. The custom was that the wife never took her husband’s family name, but retained the one she had as a spinster. Thus my grandmother on my mother’s side was called Ellen Hughes, daughter to Hugh Williams,of Gwastad Annas. The name of her husband, my grandfather, was William Prichard [=W. ab Rhisiart, or Richard’s son], son to Richard William, of the Efail Newyđ. The name of their eldest son, my uncle (brother to my mother), was Hugh Hughes, and the second son’s name was Richard William. The mother had the privilege of naming her first-born after her own family in case it was a boy; but if it happened to be a girl, she took her name from the father’s family, for which reason my mother’s maiden name was Catharine Williams. This remained her name to the day of her death: and the old people at Beđgelert persisted in calling me, so long as I was at home, William Prichard, after my grandfather, as I was my mother’s eldest child.‘Most of the tales I have collected,’ says Mr. Jones, ‘relate to the parishes of Beđgelert and Dolwyđelen. My kindred have lived for generations in those two parishes, and they are very numerous: in fact, it used to be said that the people of Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert were all cousins. They were mostly small farmers, and jealous of all strangers, so that they married almost without exception from the one parish into the other. This intermixture helped to carry the tales of the one parish to the other, and to perpetuate them on the hearths of their homes from generation to generation, until they were swept away by another influence in this century. Many of my ancestors seem to have been very fond of stories, poetry, and singing, and I have been told that some of them were very skilled in these things. So also, in the case of my parents, the memory of the past had a great charm for them on both sides; and when the relatives from Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert met in either parish, there used to be no end to the recounting of pedigrees and the repeating of tales forthe best. By listening to them, I had been filled with desire to become an adept in pedigrees and legends. My parents used to let me go every evening to the house of my grandfather, William ab Rhisiart, the clerk, to listen to tales, and to hear edifying books read. My grandfather was a reader “without his rival,” and “he used to beat the parson hollow.” Many people used to meet at Pen y Bont in the evenings to converse together, and the stories of some of them were now and then exceedingly eloquent. Of course, I listened with eager ears and open mouth, in order, if I heard anything new, to be able to repeat it to my mother. She, unwilling to let herself be beaten, would probably relate another like it, which she had heard from her mother, her grandmother, or her old aunt of Gwastad Annas, who was a fairly good verse-wright of the homely kind. Then my father, if he did not happen to be busy with his music-book, would also give us a tale which he had heard from his grandmother or grandfather, the old John Jones, of Tyn Ỻan Dolwyđelen, or somebody else would do so. That is one source from which I got my knowledge of folklore; but this ceased when we moved from Beđgelert to Carnarvon in the year 1841. My grandfather died in 1844, aged seventy-eight.‘Besides those,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘who used to come to my grandfather’s house and to his workshop to relate stories, the blacksmith’s shop used to be, especially on a rainy day, a capital place for a story, and many a time did I lurk there instead of going to school, in order to hear old William Dafyđ, the sawyer, who, peace be to his ashes! drank many a hornful from theBig Quartwithout ever breaking down, and old Ifan Owen, the fisherman, tearing away for the best at their yarns, sometimes a tissue of lies and sometimes truth. The former was funny, and a great wag, up to all kindsof tricks. He made everybody laugh, whereas the latter would preserve the gravity of a saint, however lying might be the tale which he related. Ifan Owen’s best stories were about the Water Spirit, or, as he called it,Ỻamhigyn y Dwr, “the Water Leaper.” He had not himself seen theỺamhigyn, but his father had seen it “hundreds of times.” Many an evening it had prevented him from catching a single fish in Ỻyn Gwynan, and, when the fisherman got on this theme, his eloquence was apt to become highly polysyllabic in its adjectives. Once in particular, when he had been angling for hours towards the close of the day, without catching anything, he found that something took the fly clean off the hook each time he cast it. After moving from one spot to another on the lake, he fished opposite the Benlan Wen, when something gave his line a frightful pull, “and, by the gallows, I gave another pull,” the fisherman used to say, “with all the force of my arm: out it came, and up it went off the hook, whilst I turned round to see, as it dashed so against the cliff of Benlan that it blazed like a lightning.” He used to add, “If that was not theỺamhigyn, it must have been the very devil himself.” That cliff must be two hundred yards at least from the shore. As to his father, he had seen the Water Spirit many times, and he had also been fishing in the Ỻyn Glâs or Ffynnon Lâs, once upon a time, when he hooked a wonderful and fearful monster: it was not like a fish, but rather resembled a toad, except that it had a tail and wings instead of legs. He pulled it easily enough towards the shore, but, as its head was coming out of the water, it gave a terrible shriek that was enough to split the fisherman’s bones to the marrow, and, had there not been a friend standing by, he would have fallen headlong into the lake, and been possibly dragged like a sheep intothe depth; for there is a tradition that if a sheep got into the Ỻyn Glâs, it could not be got out again, as something would at once drag it to the bottom. This used to be the belief of the shepherds of Cwm Dyli, within my memory, and they acted on it in never letting their dogs go after the sheep in the neighbourhood of this lake. These two funny fellows, William Dafyđ and Ifan Owen, died long ago, without leaving any of their descendants blessed with as much as the faintest gossamer thread of the story-teller’s mantle. The former, if he had been still living, would now be no less than 129 years of age, and the latter about 120.’Mr. Jones proceeds to say that he had stories from sources besides those mentioned, namely, from Lowri Robart, wife of Rhisiart Edwart, the ‘Old Guide’; from his old aunt of Gwastad Annas; from William Wmffra, husband to his grandmother’s sister; from his grandmother, who was a native of Dolwyđelen, but had been brought up at Pwỻgwernog, in Nanmor; from her sister; and from Gruffuđ Prisiart, of Nanmor, afterwards of Glan Colwyn, who gave him the legend of Owen Lawgoch of which I shall have something to say later, and the story of the bogie of Pen Pwll Coch, which I do not know. ‘But the chief story-teller of his time at Beđgelert,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘was Twm Ifan Siams (pronounced Si̯ăms or Shăms), brother, I believe, to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of the Penrhyn, who was a bard and pedigree man. Twm lived at Nanmor, but I know not what his vocation was; his relatives, however, were small farmers, carpenters, and masons. It is not improbable that he was also an artisan, as he was conversant with numbers, magnitude, and letters, and left behind him a volume forming a pedigree book known at Nanmor as theBarcud Mawr, or “Great Kite,” as Gruffuđ Prisiart told me. The latter had been reading it manya time in order to know the origin of somebody or other. All I can remember of this character is that he was very old—over 90—and that he went from house to house in his old age to relate tales and recount pedigrees: great was the welcome he had from everybody everywhere. I remember, also, that he was small of stature, nimble, witty, exceedingly amusing, and always ready with his say on every subject. He was in the habit of calling on my grandfather in his rambles, and very cordial was the reception which my parents always gave him on account of his tales and his knowledge of pedigrees. The story of the afanc, as given in my collection, is from his mouth. You will observe how little difference there is between his version2and that known to Edward Ỻwyd in the year 1695. I had related this story to a friend of mine at Portmadoc, who was grandson or great-grandson to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of Penrhyn, in 1858, when he called my attention to the same story in theCambrian Journalfrom the correspondence of Edward Ỻwyd. I was surprised at the similarity between the two versions, and I went to Beđgelert to Gruffuđ Rhisiart, who was related to Twm Siôn Siams. I read the story to him, and I found that he had heard it related by his uncle just as it was by me, and as given in theCambrian Journal. Twm Ifan Siams had funny stories about the tricks ofGwrach y Rhibyn, theBodach3Glas, and theBwbach Ỻwyd, which he localized in Nanmor and Ỻanfrothen; he had, also, a very eloquent tale about the courtship between a sailor from Moel y Gest, near Portmadoc, and a mermaid, of which I retain a fairlygood recollection. I believe Twm died in the year 1835–6, aged about ninety-five.’So far, I have merely translated Mr. Jones’ account of himself and his authorities as given me in the letter I have already referred to, dated in June of last year, 1881. I would now add the substance of his general remarks about the fairies, as he had heard them described, and as he expressed himself in his essay for the competition on folklore at the Carnarvon Eisteđfod of 1880:—The traditions, he says, respecting theTylwyth Tegvary according to the situation of the districts with which they are connected, and many more such traditions continue to be remembered among the inhabitants of the mountains than by those of the more level country. In some places theTylwyth Tegare described as a small folk of a thieving nature, living in summer among the fern bushes in the mountains, and in winter in the heather and gorse. These were wont to frequent the fairs and to steal money from the farmers’ pockets, where they placed in its stead their own fairy money, which looked like the coin of the realm, but when it was paid for anything bought it would vanish in the pockets of the seller. In other districts the fairies were described as a little bigger and stronger folk; but these latter were also of a thieving disposition. They would lurk around people’s houses, looking for an opportunity to steal butter and cheese from the dairies, and they skulked about the cow-yards, in order to milk the cows and the goats, which they did so thoroughly that many a morning there was not a drop of milk to be had. The principal mischief, however, which those used to do, was to carry away unbaptized infants, and place in their stead their own wretched and peevish offspring. They were said to live in hidden caves in the mountains, and he had heard one old man asserting his firmbelief that it was beneath Moel Eilio, also called Moel Eilian, a mountain lying between Ỻanberis and Cweỻyn, theTylwyth Tegof Nant y Bettws lived, whom he had seen many a time when he was a lad; and, if any one came across the mouth of their cave, he thought that he would find there a wonderful amount of wealth, ‘for they were thieves without their like.’ There is still another species ofTylwyth Teg, very unlike the foregoing ones in their nature and habits. Not only was this last kind far more beautiful and comely than the others, but they were honest and good towards mortals. Their whole nature was replete with joy and fun, nor were they ever beheld hardly, except engaged in some merry-making or other. They might be seen on bright moonlight nights at it, singing and carolling playfully on the fair meadows and the green slopes, at other times dancing lightly on the tops of the rushes in the valleys. They were also wont to be seen hunting in full force on the backs of their grey horses; for this kind were rich, and kept horses and servants. Though it used to be said that they were spiritual and immortal beings, still they ate and drank like human beings: they married and had children. They were also remarkable for their cleanliness, and they were wont to reward neat maid-servants and hospitable wives. So housewives used to exhort their maids to clean their houses thoroughly every night before going to bed, saying that if theTylwyth Teghappened to enter, they would be sure to leave money for them somewhere; but they were to tell no one in case they found any, lest theTylwythshould be offended and come no more. The mistresses also used to order a tinful of water to be placed at the foot of the stairs, a clean cloth on the table, with bread and its accompaniments (bara ac enỻyn) placed on it, so that, if theTylwythcame in to eat, the maids shouldhave their recompense on the hob as well as unstinted praise for keeping the house clean, or, as Mr. Jones has it in a couplet from Goronwy Owen’sCywyđ y Cynghorfynt—Cael eu rhent ar y pentan,A ỻwyr glod o bai ỻawr glân.Finding the fairies’ pay on the hob,With full credit for a clean floor.Thus, whether the fairies came or not to pay a visit to them during their sleep, the house would be clean by the morning, and the table ready set for breakfast. It appears that the places most frequently resorted to by this species were rushy combes surrounded by smooth hills with round tops, also the banks of rivers and the borders of lakes; but they were seldom seen at any time near rocks or cliffs. So more tales about them are found in districts of the former description than anywhere else, and among them may be mentioned Penmachno, Dolwyđelan, the sides of Moel Siabod, Ỻandegái Mountain, and from there to Ỻanberis, to Nantỻe Lakes, to Moel Tryfan4and Nant y Bettws, the upper portion of the parish of Beđgelert from Drws y Coed to the Pennant, and the district beginning from there and including the level part of Eifion, on towards Celynnog Fawr. I have very little doubt that there are many traditions about them in the neighbourhood of the Eifl and in Ỻeyn; I know but little, however, about these last. This kind of fairies was said to live underground, and the way to their country lay under hollow banks that overhung the deepest parts of the lakes, or the deepest pools in the rivers, so that mortals could not follow them further than the water, should they try to go after them. They used to come out in broad daylight,two or three together, and now and then a shepherd, so the saying went, used to talk and chat with them. Sometimes, moreover, he fell over head and ears in love with their damsels, but they did not readily allow a mortal to touch them. The time they were to be seen in their greatest glee was at night when the moon was full, when they celebrated a merry night (noswaith lawen). At midnight to the minute, they might be seen rising out of the ground in every combe and valley; then, joining hands, they would form into circles, and begin to sing and dance with might and main until the cock crew, when they would vanish. Many used to go to look at them on those nights, but it was dangerous to go too near them, lest they should lure the spectator into their circle; for if that happened, they would throw a charm over him, which would make him invisible to his companions, and he would be detained by the fairies as long as he lived. At times some people went too near to them, and got snatched in; and at other times a love-inspired youth, fascinated by the charms of one of their damsels, rushed in foolhardily to try to seize one of them, and became instantly surrounded and concealed from sight. If he could be got out before the cock crew he would be no worse; but once the fairies disappeared without his having been released, he would never more be seen in the land of the living. The way to get the captured man out was to take a long stick of mountain ash (pren criafol), which two or more strong men had to hold with one of its ends in the middle of the circle, so that when the man came round in his turn in the dance he might take hold of it, for he is there bodily though not visible, so that he cannot go past without coming across the stick. Then the others pull him out, for the fairies, no more than any other spirit, dare touch the mountain ash.We now proceed to give some of Mr. Jones’ legends. The first is one which he published in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 70, whence the following free translation is made of it:—‘In the north-west corner of the parish of Beđgelert there is a place which used to be called by the old inhabitants the Land of the Fairies, and it reaches from Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ along the slope of the mountain of Drws y Coed as far as Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The old people of former times used to find much pleasure and amusement in this district in listening every moonlight night to the charming music of the fair family, and in looking at their dancing and their mirthful sports. Once on a time, a long while ago, there lived at upper Drws y Coed a youth, who was joyous and active, brave and determined of heart. This young man amused himself every night by looking on and listening to them. One night they had come to a field near the house, near the shore of Ỻyn y Dywarchen, to pass a merry night. He went, as usual, to look at them, when his glances at once fell on one of the ladies, who possessed such beauty as he had never seen in a human being. Her appearance was like that of alabaster; her voice was as agreeable as the nightingale’s, and as unruffled as the zephyr in a flower-garden at the noon of a long summer’s day; and her gait was pretty and aristocratic; her feet moved in the dance as lightly on the grass as the rays of the sun had a few hours before on the lake hard by. He fell in love with her over head and ears, and in the strength of that passion—for what is stronger than love!—he rushed, when the bustle was at its height, into the midst of the fair crowd, and snatched the graceful damsel in his arms, and ran instantly with her to the house. When the fair family saw the violence used by a mortal, they broke up the dance and ran after hertowards the house; but, when they arrived, the door had been bolted with iron, wherefore they could not get near her or touch her in any way; and the damsel had been placed securely in a chamber. The youth, having her now under his roof, as is the saying, endeavoured, with all his talent, to win her affection and to induce her to wed. But at first she would on no account hear of it; on seeing his persistence, however, and on finding that he would not let her go to return to her people, she consented to be his servant if he could find out her name; but she would not be married to him. As he thought that was not impossible, he half agreed to the condition; but, after bothering his head with all the names known in that neighbourhood, he found himself no nearer his point, though he was not willing to give up the search hurriedly. One night, as he was going home from Carnarvon market, he saw a number of the fair folks in a turbary not far from his path. They seemed to him to be engaged in an important deliberation, and it struck him that they were planning how to recover their abducted sister. He thought, moreover, that if he could secretly get within hearing, he might possibly find her name out. On looking carefully around, he saw that a ditch ran through the turbary and passed near the spot where they stood. So he made his way round to the ditch, and crept, on all fours, along it until he was within hearing of the family. After listening a little, he found that their deliberation was as to the fate of the lady he had carried away, and he heard one of them crying, piteously, “O Penelop, O Penelop, my sister, why didst thou run away with a mortal!” “Penelop,” said the young man to himself, “that must be the name of my beloved: that is enough.” At once he began to creep back quietly, and he returned home safely without having been seen by the fairies.When he got into the house, he called out to the girl, saying, “Penelop, my beloved one, come here!” and she came forward and asked, in astonishment, “O mortal, who has betrayed my name to thee?” Then, lifting up her tiny folded hands, she exclaimed, “Alas, my fate, my fate!” But she grew contented with her fate, and took to her work in earnest. Everything in the house and on the farm prospered under her charge. There was no better or cleanlier housewife in the neighbourhood around, or one that was more provident than she. The young man, however, was not satisfied that she should be a servant to him, and, after he had long and persistently sought it, she consented to be married, on the one condition, that, if ever he should touch her with iron, she would be free to leave him and return to her family. He agreed to that condition, since he believed that such a thing would never happen at his hands. So they were married, and lived several years happily and comfortably together. Two children were born to them, a boy and a girl, the picture of their mother and the idols of their father. But one morning, when the husband wanted to go to the fair at Carnarvon, he went out to catch a filly that was grazing in the field by the house; but for the life of him he could not catch her, and he called to his wife to come to assist him. She came without delay, and they managed to drive the filly to a secure corner, as they thought; but, as the man approached to catch her, she rushed past him. In his excitement, he threw the bridle after her; but, who should be running in the direction of it, but his wife! The iron bit struck her on the cheek, and she vanished out of sight on the spot. Her husband never saw her any more; but one cold frosty night, a long time after this event, he was awakened from his sleep by somebody rubbing the glass of his window, and, after he had givena response, he recognized the gentle and tender voice of his wife saying to him:—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.It is said that the descendants of this family still continue in these neighbourhoods, and that they are easy to be recognized by their light and fair complexion. A similar story is related of the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, in Ỻanfihangel y Pennant, and it used to be said that most of the inhabitants of that neighbourhood were formerly of a light complexion. I have often heard old people saying, that it was only necessary, within their memory, to point out in the fair at Penmorfa any one as being of the breed of theTylwyth, to cause plenty of fighting that day at least.’The reader may compare with this tale the following, for which I have to thank Mr. Samuel Rhys Williams, whose words I give, followed by a translation:—Yr oeđ gwr ieuanc o gymydogaeth Drws y Coed yn dychwelyd adref o Beđgelert ar noswaith loergan ỻeuad; pan ar gyfer Ỻyn y Gader gwelai nifer o’r boneđigesau a elwir y Tylwyth Teg yn myned trwy eu chwareuon nosawl. Swynwyd y ỻanc yn y fan gan brydferthwch y rhianod hyn, ac yn neiỻduol un o honynt. Coỻođ y ỻywodraeth arno ei hunan i’r fath rađau fel y penderfynođ neidio i’r cylch a dwyn yn ysbail iđo yr hon oeđ wedi myned a’i galon mor ỻwyr. Cyflawnođ ei fwriad a dygođ y foneđiges gydag ef adref. Bu yn wraig iđo, a ganwyd plant iđynt. Yn đamweiniol, tra yn cyflawni rhyw orchwyl, digwyđođ iđo ei tharo a haiarn ac ar amrantiad diflannođ ei anwylyd o’i olwg ac nis gwelođ hi mwyach, ond đarfod iđi đyfod at ffenestr ei ystafeỻ wely un noswaith ar ol hyn a’i annog i fod yn dirion wrth y plant a’i bod hi yn aros gerỻaw y tyyn Ỻyny Dywarchen. Y mae y trađodiad hefyd yn ein hysbysu đarfod i’r gwr hwn symud i fyw o Đrws y Coed i Ystrad Betws Garmon.‘A young man, from the neighbourhood of Drws y Coed, was returning home one bright moonlight night, from Beđgelert; when he came opposite the lake called Ỻyn y Gader, he saw a number of the ladies known as theTylwyth Teggoing through their nightly frolics. The youth was charmed at once by the beauty of these ladies, and especially by one of them. He so far lost his control over himself, that he resolved to leap into the circle and carry away as his spoil the one who had so completely robbed him of his heart. He accomplished his intention, and carried the lady home with him. She became his wife, and children were born to them. Accidentally, while at some work or other, it happened to him to strike her with iron, and, in the twinkling of an eye, his beloved one disappeared from his sight. He saw her no more, except that she came to his bedroom window one night afterwards, and told him to be tender to the children, and that she was staying, near the house, in the lake called Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The tradition also informs us that this man moved from Drws y Coed to live at Ystrad near Bettws Garmon.’The name Ỻyn y Dywarchen, I may add, means the Lake of the Sod or Turf: it is the one with the floating island, described thus by Giraldus, ii. 9 (p. 135):—Alter enim insulam habet erraticam, vi ventorum impellentium ad oppositas plerumque lacus partes errabundam. Hic armenta pascentia nonnunquam pastores ad longinquas subito partes translata mirantur.‘For one of the two lakes holds a wandering island, which strays mostly with the force of the winds impelling it to the opposite parts of the lake. Sometimes cattle grazing on it are,to the surprise of the shepherds, suddenly carried across to the more distant parts.’ Sheep are known to get on the floating islet, and it is still believed to float them away from the shore. Mr. S. Rhys Williams, it will be noticed, has given the substance of the legend rather than the story itself. I now proceed to translate the same tale as given in Welsh inCymru Fu(pp. 474–7 of the edition published by Messrs. Hughes and Son, Wrexham), in a very different dress—it is from Glasynys’ pen, and, as might be expected, decked out with all the literary adornments in which he delighted. The language he used was his own, but there is no reason to think that he invented any of the incidents:—‘The farmer of Drws y Coed’s son was one misty day engaged as a shepherd on the side of the mountain, a little below Cwm Marchnad, and, as he crossed a rushy flat, he saw a wonderfully handsome little woman standing under a clump of rushes. Her yellow and curly hair hung down in ringed locks, and her eyes were as blue as the clear sky, while her forehead was as white as the wavy face of a snowdrift that has nestled on the side of Snowdon only a single night. Her two plump cheeks were each like a red rose, and her pretty-lipped mouth might make an angel eager to kiss her. The youth approached her, filled with love for her, and, with delicacy and affection, asked her if he might converse with her. She smiled kindly, and reaching out her hand, said to him, “Idol of my hopes, thou hast come at last!” They began to associate secretly, and to meet one another daily here and there on the moors around the banks of Ỻyn y Gader; at last, their love had waxed so strong that the young man could not be at peace either day or night, as he was always thinking of Bella or humming to himself a verse of poetry about her charms. The yellow-haired youth was now andthen lost for a long while, and nobody could divine his history. His acquaintances believed that he had been fascinated: at last the secret was found out. There were about Ỻyn y Dywarchen shady and concealing copses: it was there he was wont to go, and the she-elf would always be there awaiting him, and it was therefore that the place where they used to meet got to be calledỺwyn y Forwyn, the Maiden’s Grove. After fondly loving for a long time, it was resolved to wed; but it was needful to get the leave of the damsel’s father. One moonlight night it was agreed to meet in the wood, and the appointment was duly kept by the young man, but there was no sign of the subterranean folks coming, until the moon disappeared behind the Garn. Then the two arrived, and the old man at once proceeded to say to the suitor: “Thou shalt have my daughter on the condition that thou do not strike her with iron. If thou ever touch her with iron, she will no longer be thine, but shall return to her own.” The man consented readily, and great was his joy. They were betrothed, and seldom was a handsomer pair seen at the altar. It was rumoured that a vast sum of money as dowry had arrived with the pretty lady at Drws y Coed on the evening of her nuptials. Soon after, the mountain shepherd of Cwm Marchnad passed for a very rich and influential man. In the course of time they had children, and no happier people ever lived together than their parents. Everything went on regularly and prosperously for a number of years: they became exceedingly wealthy, but the sweet is not to be had without the bitter. One day they both went out on horseback, and they happened to go near Ỻyn y Gader, when the wife’s horse got into a bog and sank to his belly. After the husband had got Bella off his back, he succeeded with much trouble in getting the horse out, and thenhe let him go. Then he lifted her on the back of his own, but, unfortunately, in trying quickly to place her foot in the stirrup, the iron part of the same slipped, and struck her—or, rather, it touched her at the knee-joint. Before they had made good half their way home, several of the diminutiveTylwythbegan to appear to them, and the sound of sweet singing was heard on the side of the hill. Before the husband reached Drws y Coed his wife had left him, and it is supposed that she fled to Ỻwyn y Forwyn, and thence to the world below to Faery. She left her dear little ones to the care of her beloved, and no more came near them. Some say, however, that she sometimes contrived to see her beloved one in the following manner. As the law of her country did not permit her to frequent the earth with an earthly being, she and her mother invented a way of avoiding the one thing and of securing the other. A great piece of sod was set to float on the surface of the lake, and on that she used to be for long hours, freely conversing in tenderness with her consort on shore; by means of that plan they managed to live together until he breathed his last. Their descendants owned Drws y Coed for many generations, and they intermarried and mixed with the people of the district. Moreover, many a fierce fight took place in later times at theGwyl-fabsantat Dolbenmaen or at Penmorfa, because the men of Eifionyđ had a habit of annoying the people of Pennant by calling them Bellisians.’In a note, Glasynys remarks that this tale is located in many districts without much variation, except in the names of the places; this, however, could not apply to the latter part, which suits Ỻyn y Dywarchen alone. With this account of the fairy wife frequenting a lake island to converse with her husband on shore, compare the Irish story of the Children of Lir, who, thoughtransformed into swans, were allowed to retain their power of reasoning and speaking, so that they used to converse from the surface of the water with their friends on the dry land: see Joyce’sOld Celtic Romances, pp. x, 1–36. Now I return to another tale which was sent me by Mr. William Jones: unless I am mistaken it has not hitherto been published; so I give the Welsh together with a free translation of it:—Yr oeđ ystori am fab Braich y Dinas a adrođai y diweđar hybarch Elis Owen o Gefn y Meusyđ yn ỻed debyg i chwedl mab yr Ystrad gan Glasynys, sef iđo hudo un o ferched y Tylwyth Teg i lawr o Foel Hebog, a’i chipio i mewn i’r ty drwy orthrech; ac wedi hynny efe a’i perswadiođ i ymbriodi ag ef ar yr un telerau ag y gwnaeth mab yr Ystrad. Ond clywais hen foneđiges o’r enw Mrs. Roberts, un o ferched yr Isaỻt, oeđ lawer hyn na Mr. Owen, yn ei hadrođ yn wahanol. Yr oeđ yr hen wreigan hon yn credu yn nilysrwyđ y chwedl, oblegid yr oeđ hi ‘yn cofio rhai o’r teulu, waeth be’ đeudo neb.’ Dirwynnai ei hedau yn debyg i hyn:—Yn yr amser gynt—ond o ran hynny pan oeđ hi yn ferch ifanc—yr oeđ ỻawer iawn o Dylwyth Teg yn trigo mewn rhyw ogofau yn y Foel o Gwm Ystradỻyn hyd i flaen y Pennant. Yr oeđ y Tylwyth hwn yn ỻawer iawn harđach na dim a welid mewn un rhan araỻ o’r wlad. Yr oeđynt o ran maint yn fwy o lawer na’r rhai cyffredin, yn lan eu pryd tu hwnt i bawb, eu gwaỻt yn oleu fel ỻin, eu ỻygaid yn loyw leision. Yr oeđynt yn ymđangos mewn rhyw le neu gilyđ yn chwareu, canu ac ymđifyru bob nos deg a goleu; a byđai swn eu canu yn denu y ỻanciau a’r merched ifainc i fyned i’w gweled; ac os byđent yn digwyđ bod o bryd goleu hwy a ymgomient a hwynt, ond ni adawent i un person o liw tywyỻ đod yn agos atynt, eithr cilient ymaith o fforđ y cyfryw un. Yrŵan yr oeđ mab Braich y Dinas yn ỻanc harđ, heini, bywiog ac o bryd glan, goleu a serchiadol. Yr oeđhwn yn hoff iawn o edrych ar y Tylwyth, a byđai yn cael ymgom a rhai o honynt yn aml, ond yn bennaf ag un o’r merched oeđ yn rhagori arnynt oỻ mewn glendid a synwyr; ac o fynych gyfarfod syrthiođ y đau mewn cariad a’u gilyđ, eithr ni fynai hi ymbriodi ag ef, ond ađawođ fyned i’w wasanaeth, a chydunođ i’w gyfarfod yn Mhant—nid wyf yn cofio yr enw i gyd—drannoeth, oblegid nid oeđ wiw iđi geisio myned gydag ef yn ngwyđ y ỻeiỻ. Feỻy drannoeth aeth i fynu i’r Foel, a chyfarfyđođ y rhian ef yn ol ei hađewid, ag aeth gydag ef adref, ac ymgymerođ a’r swyđ o laethwraig, a buan y dechreuođ popeth lwyđo o dan ei ỻaw: yr oeđ yr ymenyn a’r caws yn cynhyđu beunyđ. Hir a thaer y bu’r ỻanc yn ceisio ganđi briodi. A hi a ađawođ, os medrai ef gael aỻan ei henw. Ni wyđai Mrs. Roberts drwy ba ystryw y ỻwyđođ i gael hwnnw, ond hynny a fu, a daeth ef i’r ty un noswaith a galwođ ar ‘Sibi,’ a phan glywođ hi ei henw, hi a aeth i lewygfa; ond pan đaeth ati ei hun, hi a ymfođlonođ i briodi ar yr amod nad oeđ ef i gyffwrđ a hi a haiarn ac nad oeđ boỻt haiarn i fod ar y drws na chlo ychwaith, a hynny a fu: priodwyd hwynt, a buont fyw yn gysurus am lawer o flynyđoeđ, a ganwyd iđynt amryw blant. Y diweđ a fu fel hyn: yr oeđ ef wedi myned un diwrnod i dori baich o frwyn at doi, a tharawođ y cryman yn y baich i fyned adref; fel yr oeđ yn nesu at y gadlas, rhedođ Sibi i’w gyfarfod, a thaflođ ynteu y baich brwyn yn đireidus tu ag ati, a rhag iđo đyfod ar ei thraws ceisiođ ei atal a’i ỻaw, yr hon a gyffyrđođ a’r cryman; a hi a điflannođ o’r golwg yn y fan yn nghysgod y baich brwyn: ni welwyd ac ni chlywyd dim ođiwrthi mwyach.‘There was a story respecting the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, which used to be told by the late respected Mr. Ellis Owen, of Cefn y Meusyđ, somewhat in the same way as that about the Ystrad youth, as told by Glasynys; that is to say, the young man enticed oneof the damsels of the fair family to come down from Moel Hebog, and then he carried her by force into the house, and afterwards persuaded her to become his wife on the same conditions as the heir of Ystrad did. But I have heard an old lady called Mrs. Roberts, who had been brought up at Isaỻt, and who was older than Mr. Owen, relating it differently. This old woman believed in the truth of the story, as “she remembered some of the family, whatever anybody may say.” She used to spin her yarn somewhat as follows:—In old times—but, for the matter of that, when she was a young woman—there were a great many of the fair family living in certain caves in the Foel from CwmStráỻyn5down to the upper part of Pennant. ThisTylwythwas much handsomer than any seen in any other part of the country. In point of stature they were much bigger than the ordinary ones, fair of complexion beyond everybody, with hair that was as light as flax, and eyes that were of a clear blue colour. They showed themselves in one spot or another, engaged in playing, singing, and jollity every light night. The sound of their singing used to draw the lads and the young women to look at them; and, should they be of clear complexion, the fairies would chat with them; but they would let no person of a dark hue come near them: they moved away from such a one. Now the young man of Braich y Dinas was a handsome, vigorous, and lively stripling of fair, clear, and attractive complexion. He was very fond of looking at the fair family, and had a chat with some of them often,but chiefly with one of the damsels, who surpassed all the rest in beauty and good sense. The result of frequently meeting was that they fell in love with one another, but she would not marry him. She promised, however, to go to service to him, and agreed to meet him at Pant y—I have forgotten the rest of the name—the day after, as it would not do for her to go with him while the others happened to be looking on. So he went up the next day to the Foel, and the damsel met him according to her promise, and went with him home, where she took to the duties of a dairymaid. Soon everything began to prosper under her hand; the butter and the cheese were daily growing in quantity. Long and importunately did the youth try to get her to marry him. She promised to do so provided he could find out her name. Mrs. Roberts did not know by what manœuvre he succeeded in discovering it, but it was done, and he came into the house one night and called to “Sibi,” and when she heard her name she fainted away. When, however, she recovered her consciousness, she consented to marry on the condition that he was not to touch her with iron, and that there was not to be a bolt of iron on the door, or a lock either. It was agreed, and they were married; they lived together comfortably many years, and had children born to them. The end came thus: he had gone one day to cut a bundle of rushes for thatching, and planted the reaping-hook in the bundle to go home. As he drew towards the haggard, Sibi ran out to meet him, and he wantonly threw the bundle of rushes towards her, when she, to prevent its hitting her, tried to stop it with her hand, which touched the reaping-hook. She vanished on the spot out of sight behind the bundle of rushes, and nothing more was seen or heard of her.’Mr. Ellis Owen, alluded to above, was a highly respected gentleman, well known in North Wales for his literary and antiquarian tastes. He was born in 1789 at Cefn y Meusyđ near Tremadoc, where he continued to live till the day of his death, which was January 27, 1868. His literary remains, preceded by a short biography, were published in 1877 by Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc; but it contains no fairy tales so far as I have been able to find.A tale which partially reminds one of that given by Dewi Glan Ffrydlas respecting the Corwrion midwife, referred to at p. 63 above, was published by Mr. W. Jones in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 251: freely rendered into English, it runs thus:—‘Once on a time, when a midwife from Nanhwynan had newly got to the Hafođyđ Brithion to pursue her calling, a gentleman came to the door on a fine grey steed and bade her come with him at once. Such was the authority with which he spoke, that the poor midwife durst not refuse to go, however much it was her duty to stay where she was. So she mounted behind him, and off they went, like the flight of a swallow, through Cwmỻan, over the Bwlch, down Nant yr Aran, and over the Gader to Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ, before the poor woman had time even to say Oh! When they reached there, she saw before her a magnificent mansion, splendidly lit up with such lamps as she had never seen before. They entered the court, and a crowd of servants in expensive liveries came to meet them, and she was at once led through the great hall into a bed-chamber, the like of which she had never seen. There the mistress of the house, to whom she had been fetched, was awaiting her. The midwife got through her duties successfully, and stayed there until the lady had completely recovered, nor had she spent any part of herlife so merrily, for there nought but festivity went on day and night: dancing, singing, and endless rejoicing reigned there. But merry as it was, she found that she must go, and the nobleman gave her a large purse, with the order not to open it until she had got into her own house. Then he bade one of his servants escort her the same way that she had come. When she reached home she opened the purse, and, to her great joy, it was full of money: she lived happily on those earnings to the end of her life.’With this ending of the story one should contrast Dewi Glan Ffrydlas’ tale to which I have already alluded; and I may here refer to Mr. Sikes’British Goblins, pp. 86–8, for a tale differing from both Dewi’s and Jones’, in that the fairies are there made to appear as devils to the nurse, who had accidentally used a certain ointment which she was not to place near her own eyes. Instead of being rewarded for her services she was only too glad to be deposited anyhow near her home. ‘But,’ as the story goes on to relate, ‘very many years afterwards, being at a fair, she saw a man stealing something from a stall, and, with one corner of her eye, beheld her old master pushing the man’s elbow. Unthinkingly she said, “How are you, master? how are the children?” He said, “How did you see me?” She answered, “With the corner of my left eye.” From that moment she was blind of her left eye, and lived many years with only her right.’ Such is the end of this tale given by Mr. Sikes.‘But the fair family did not,’ Mr. William Jones goes on to say, ‘always give mortals the means of good living: sometimes they made no little fun of them. Once on a time the Drws y Coed man was going home from Beđgelert Fair, rather merry than sad, along the old road over the Gader, when he saw, on coming nearthe top of the Gader, a fine, handsome house near the road, in which there was a rare merrymaking. He knew perfectly well that there was no such a building anywhere on his way, and it made him think that he had lost his way and gone astray; so he resolved to turn into the house to ask for lodgings, which were given him. At once, when he entered, he took it to be a nuptial feast (neithior) by reason of the jollity, the singing, and the dancing. The house was full of young men, young women, and children, all merry, and exerting themselves to the utmost. The company began to disappear one by one, and he asked if he might go to bed, whereupon he was led to a splendid chamber, where there was a bed of the softest down with snow-white clothes on it. He stripped at once, went into it, and slept quietly enough till the morning. The first thing to come to his mind when he lay half asleep, half awake, was the jollity of the night before, and the fact of his sleeping in a splendid chamber in the strange house. He opened his eyes to survey his bedroom, but it was too wide: he was sleeping on the bare swamp, with a clump of rushes as his pillow, and the blue sky as his coverlet.’Mr. Jones mentions that, within his memory, there were still people in his neighbourhood who believed that the fairies stole unbaptized children and placed their own in their stead: he gives the following story about the farmer’s wife of Dyffryn Mymbyr, near Capel Curig, and her infant:—Yr oeđ y wraig hon wedi rhođi genedigaeth i blentyn iach a heinif yn nechreu y cynheuaf ryw haf blin a thymhestlog: ac o herwyđ fod y tyđyn getyn o fforđ ođiwrth lan na chapel, a’r hin mor hynod o lawiog, esgeuluswyd bedyđio y plentyn yn yr amser arferol, sef cyn ei fod yn wyth niwrnod oed. Ryw điwrnod teg ynnghanol y cynheuaf blin aeth y wraig aỻan i’r maes gyda’r rhelyw o’r teulu i geisio achub y cynheuaf, a gadawođ y baban yn cysgu yn ei gryd o dan ofal ei nain, yr hon oeđ hen a methiantus, ac yn anaỻuog i fyned lawer o gwmpas. Syrthiođ yr hen wreigan i gysgu, a thra yr oeđ hi feỻy, daeth y Tylwyth i fewn, a chymerasant y baban o’r cryd, a dodasant un araỻ yn ei le. Yn mhen ennyd dechreuođ hwn erain a chwyno nes deffro y nain, ac aeth at y cryd, ỻe y gwelođ gleiriach hen eiđil crebachlyd yn ymstwyrian yn flin. ‘O’r wchw!’ ebai hi, ‘y mae yr hen Dylwyth wedi bod yma;’ ac yn đioed chwythođ yn y corn i alw y fam, yr hon a đaeth yno yn điatreg; a phan glywođ y crio yn y cryd, rhedođ ato, a chodođ y bychan i fynu heb sylwi arno, a hi a’i cofleidiođ, a’i suođ ac a’i swcrođ at ei bronnau, ond nid oeđ dim yn tycio, parhau i nadu yn đidor yr oeđ nes bron a hoỻti ei chalon; ac ni wyđai pa beth i wneud i’w đistewi. O’r diweđ hi a edrychođ arno, a gwelođ nad oeđ yn debyg i’w mhebyn hi, ac aeth yn loes i’w chalon: edrychođ arno drachefn, ond po fwyaf yr edrychai arno, hyỻaf yn y byd oeđ hi yn ei weled; anfonođ am ei gwr o’r cae, a gyrrođ ef i ymholi am wr cyfarwyđ yn rhywle er mwyn cael ei gynghor; ac ar ol hir holi dywedođ rhywun wrtho fod person Trawsfynyđ yn gyfarwyđ yn nghyfrinion yr ysprydion; ac efe a aeth ato, ac archođ hwnnw iđo gymeryd rhaw a’i gorchuđio a halen, a thori ỻun croes yn yr halen; yna ei chymeryd i’r ystafeỻ ỻe yr oeđ mab y Tylwyth, ac ar ol agor y ffenestr, ei rhođi ar y tan hyd nes y ỻosgai yr halen; a hwy a wnaethant feỻy, a phan aeth yr halen yn eiriasboeth fe aeth yr erthyl croes ymaith yn anweledig iđynt hwy, ac ar drothwy y drws hwy a gawsant y baban araỻ yn iach a dianaf.‘This woman had given birth to a healthy and vigorous child at the beginning of the harvest, one wretched andinclement summer. As the homestead was a considerable distance from church or chapel, and the weather so very rainy, it was neglected to baptize the child at the usual6time, that is to say, before it was eight days old. One fine day, in the middle of this wretched harvest, the mother went to the field with the rest of the family to try to save the harvest, and left her baby sleeping in its cradle in its grandmother’s charge, who was so aged and decrepit as to be unable to go much about. The old woman fell asleep, and, while she was in that state, theTylwyth Tegcame in and took away the baby, placing another in its stead. Very shortly the latter began to whine and groan, so that the grandmother awoke: she went to the cradle, where she saw a slender, wizened old man moving restlessly and peevishly about. “Alas! alas!” said she, “the oldTylwythhave been here”; and she at once blew in the horn to call the mother home, who came without delay. As she heard the crying in the cradle, she ran towards it, and lifted the little one without looking at him; she hugged him, put him to her breast, and sang lullaby to him, but nothing was of any avail, as he continued, without stopping, to scream enough to break her heart; and she knew not what to do to calm him. At last she looked at him: she saw that he was not like her dear little boy, and her heart was pierced with agony. She looked at him again, and the more she examined him the uglier he seemed to her. She sent for her husband home from the field, and told him to search for a skilled man somewhere or other; and, after a long search, he was told by somebody that the parson of Trawsfynyđ was skilled in the secrets of the spirits;so he went to him. The latter bade him take a shovel and cover it with salt, and make the figure of the cross in the salt; then to take it to the chamber where the fairy child was, and, after taking care to open the window, to place the shovel on the fire until the salt was burnt. This was done, and when the salt had got white hot, the peevish abortion went away, seen of no one, and they found the other baby whole and unscathed at the doorstep.’ Fire was also made use of in Scotland in order to detect a changeling and force him to quit: see the British Association’sReport, 1896, p. 650, where Mr. Gomme refers to Mr. Gregor’sFolk-lore of the North-east of Scotland, pp. 8–9.In answer to a question of mine with regard to gossamer, which is called in North Walesedafeđ gwawn, ‘gwawnyarn,’ Mr. Jones told me in a letter, dated April, 1881, that it used to be calledRhaffau’r Tylwyth Teg, that is to say, the Ropes of the Fair Family, which were associated with the diminutive, mischievous, and wanton kind of fairies who dwelt in marshy and rushy places, or among the fern and the heather. It used to be said that, if a man should lie down and fall asleep in any such a spot, the fairies would come and bind him with their ropes so that he could not move, and that they would then cover him with a sheet made of their ropes, which would make him invisible. This was illustrated by him by the following tale he had heard from his mother:—Clywais fy mam yn adrođ chwedl am fab y Ffriđ, yr hwn wrth đychwelyd adref o ffair Beđgelert yn rhywle ođeutu Pen Cae’r Gors a welođ beth afrifed o’r Tylwyth Bach yn neidio a phrancio ar bennau y grug. Efe a eisteđođ i lawr i edrych arnynt, a daeth hun drosto; ymoỻyngođ i lawr a chysgođ yn drwm. A phan oeđ feỻy, ymosodođ yr hoỻ lu arno a rhwymasant ef mor dyn felna aỻasai symud; yna hwy a’i cuđiasant ef a’r tuđed gwawn fel na aỻai neb ei weled os digwyđai iđo lefain am help. Yr oeđ ei deulu yn ei đisgwyl adref yn gynnar y nos honno, ac wrth ei weled yn oedi yn hwyr, aethant yn anesmwyth am dano ac aethpwyd i’w gyfarfod, eithr ni welent đim ođiwrtho, ac aed gan beỻed a’r pentref, ỻe en hyspyswyd ei fod wedi myned tuag adref yn gynnar gyda gwr Hafod Ruffyđ. Feỻy aed tua’r Hafod i edrych a oeđ yno; ond dywedođ gwr yr Hafod eu bod wedi ymwahanu ar Bont Glan y Gors, pawb tua’i fan ei hun. Yna chwiliwyd yn fanwl bob ochr i’r fforđ ođiyno i’r Ffriđ heb weled dim ođiwrtho. Buwyd yn chwilio yr hoỻ ardal drwy y dyđ drannoeth ond yn ofer. Fođ bynnag ođeutu yr un amser nos drannoeth daeth y Tylwyth ac a’i rhyđhasant, ac yn fuan efe a đeffrôđ wedi cysgu o hono drwy y nos a’r dyđ blaenorol. Ar ol iđo đeffro ni wyđai amcan daear yn mha le yr oeđ, a chrwydro y bu hyd ochrau y Gader a’r Gors Fawr hyd nes y canođ y ceiliog, pryd yr adnabu yn mha le yr oeđ, sef o fewn ỻai na chwarter miỻtir i’w gartref.‘I have heard my mother relating a tale about the son of the farmer of the Ffriđ, who, while on his way home from Beđgelert Fair, saw, somewhere near Pen Cae’r Gors, an endless number of the diminutive family leaping and capering on the heather tops. He sat him down to look at them, and sleep came over him; he let himself down on the ground, and slept heavily. When he was so, the whole host attacked him, and they bound him so tightly that he could not have stirred; then they covered him with the gossamer sheet, so that nobody could see him in case he called for help. His people expected him home early that evening, and, as they found him delaying till late, they got uneasy about him. They went to meet him, but no trace of him was seen,and they went as far as the village, where they were informed that he had started home in good time with the farmer of Hafod Ruffyđ. So they went to the Hafod to see if he was there; but the farmer told them that they had parted on Glan y Gors Bridge to go to their respective homes. A minute search was then made on both sides of the road from there to the Ffriđ, but without finding any trace of him. They kept searching the whole neighbourhood during the whole of the next day, but in vain. However, about the same time the following night theTylwythcame and liberated him, and he shortly woke up, after sleeping through the previous night and day. When he woke he had no idea where on earth he was; so he wandered about on the slopes of the Gader and near the Gors Fawr until the cock crew, when he found where he was, namely, less than a quarter of a mile from his home.’The late Mr. Owen, of Cefn Meusyđ, has already been alluded to. I have not been able to get at much of the folklore with which he was familiar, but, in reply to some questions of mine, Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc, his biographer, and the publisher of theBrython, so long as it existed, has kindly ransacked his memory. He writes to me in Welsh to the following effect:—‘I will tell you what I heard from Mr. Owen and my mother when I was a lad, about fifty-seven years ago. The former used to say that the people of Pennant in Eifionyđ had a nickname, to wit, that ofBelsiaid y Pennant, “the Bellisians of the Pennant”; that, when he was a boy, if anybody called outBelsiaid y Pennantat the Penmorfa Fair, every man jack of them would come out, and fighting always ensued. The antiquary used to explain it thus. Some two or three hundred years ago, Sir Robert of the Nant, one of Sir Richard Bulkeley’s ancestors, had a son and heir who was extravagantand wild. He married a gipsy, and they had children born to them; but, as the family regarded this marriage as a disgrace to their ancient stem, it is said that the father, the next time the vagabonds came round, gave a large sum of money to the father of the girl for taking her away with him. This having been done, the rumour was spread abroad that it was one of the fairies the youth had married, and that she had gone with him to catch a pony, when he threw the bridle at the beast to prevent it passing, and the iron of the bridle touched the wife; then that she at once disappeared, as the fairies always do so when touched with iron. However, the two children were put out to nurse, and the one of them, who was a girl, was brought up at Plas y Pennant, and her name wasPelisha7; her descendants remain to this day in the Nant, and are called Bellis, who are believed there, to this day, to be derived from theTylwyth Teg. Nothing offends them more than to be reminded of this.’Mr. R. I. Jones goes on to relate another tale as follows:—Dywedir fod ỻe a elwir yr Hafod Rugog mewn cwm anial yn y mynyđ ỻe y byđai y Tylwyth Teg yn arferol a mynychu; ac y byđent yn trwblio’r hen wraig am fenthyg rhywbeth neu gilyđ. Dywedođ hithau, ‘Cewch os caniatewch đau beth cyntaf—i’r peth cyntaf y cyffyrđaf ag ef wrth y drws dorri, a’r peth cyntaf y rhof fy ỻaw arno yn y ty estyn hanner ỻath.’ Yr oeđ carreg afael, fel ei gelwir, yn y mur wrth y drws ar ei fforđ, ac yr oeđ ganđi đefnyđ syrcyn gwlanen yn rhy fyr o hanner ỻath. Ond yn anffodus wrth đod a’i chaweỻad mawn i’r ty bu agos iđi a syrthio: rhoes ei ỻaw ar ben ei chlun i ymarbed a thorođ honno, a chan faint y boen cyffyrđođ yny ty a’i thrwyn yr hwn a estynnođ hanner ỻath.‘It is said that there was a place called Hafod Rugog in a wild hollow among the mountains, where the fair family were in the habit of resorting, and that they used to trouble the old woman of Hafod for the loan of one thing and another. So she said, one day, “You shall have the loan if you will grant me two first things—that the first thing I touch at the door break, and that the first thing I put my hand on in the house be lengthened half a yard.” There was a grip stone (carreg afael), as it is called, in the wall near the door, which was in her way, and she had in the house a piece of flannel for a jerkin which was half a yard too short. But, unfortunately, as she came, with her kreel full of turf on her back, to the house, she nearly fell down: she put her hand, in order to save herself, to her knee-joint, which then broke; and, owing to the pain, when she had got into the house, she touched her nose with her hand, when her nose grew half a yard longer.’Mr. Jones went on to notice how the old folks used to believe that the fairies were wont to appear in the marshes near Cweỻyn Lake, not far from Rhyd-Đu, to sing and dance, and that it was considered dangerous to approach them on those occasions lest one should be fascinated. As to the above-mentioned flannel and stone a folklorist asks me, why the old woman did not definitely mention them and say exactly what she wanted. The question is worth asking: I cannot answer it, but I mention it in the hope that somebody else will.

I.The best living authority I have found on the folklore of Beđgelert, Drws y Coed, and the surrounding district, is Mr. William Jones, of Ỻangoỻen. He has written a good deal on the subject in theBrython, and in essays intended for competition at various literary meetings in Wales. I had the loan from him of one such essay, and I have referred to theBrython; and I have also had from Mr. Jones a number of letters, most of which contain some additional information. In harmony, moreover, with my usual practice, I have asked Mr. Jones to give me a little of his own history. This he has been kind enough to do; and, as I have so far followed no particular order in these jottings, I shall now give the reader the substance of his letters in English, as I am anxious that no item should be lost or left inaccessible to English students of folklore. What is unintelligible to me may not be so to those who have made a serious study of the subject. Mr. Jones’ words are in substance to the following effect:—‘I was bred and born in the parish of Beđgelert,one of the most rustic neighbourhoods and least subject to change in the whole country. Some of the old Welsh customs remained within my memory, in spite of the adverse influence of the Calvinistic Reformation, as it is termed, and I have myself witnessed several Knitting Nights and Nuptial Feasts (Neithiorau), which, be it noticed, are not to be confounded with weddings, as they were feasts which followed the weddings, at the interval of a week. At these gatherings song and story formed an element of prime importance in the entertainment at a time when the Reformation alluded to had already blown the blast of extinction on the Merry Nights (Noswyliau Ỻawen) and Saints’ Fêtes1(Gwyliau Mabsant) before the days of my youth, though many of my aged acquaintances remembered them well, and retained a vivid recollection of scores of the amusing tales which used to be related for the best at the last mentioned long-night meetings. I have heard not a few of them reproduced by men of that generation. As an example of the old-fashioned habits of the people of Beđgelert in my early days, I may mention the way in which wives and children used to be named. The custom was that the wife never took her husband’s family name, but retained the one she had as a spinster. Thus my grandmother on my mother’s side was called Ellen Hughes, daughter to Hugh Williams,of Gwastad Annas. The name of her husband, my grandfather, was William Prichard [=W. ab Rhisiart, or Richard’s son], son to Richard William, of the Efail Newyđ. The name of their eldest son, my uncle (brother to my mother), was Hugh Hughes, and the second son’s name was Richard William. The mother had the privilege of naming her first-born after her own family in case it was a boy; but if it happened to be a girl, she took her name from the father’s family, for which reason my mother’s maiden name was Catharine Williams. This remained her name to the day of her death: and the old people at Beđgelert persisted in calling me, so long as I was at home, William Prichard, after my grandfather, as I was my mother’s eldest child.‘Most of the tales I have collected,’ says Mr. Jones, ‘relate to the parishes of Beđgelert and Dolwyđelen. My kindred have lived for generations in those two parishes, and they are very numerous: in fact, it used to be said that the people of Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert were all cousins. They were mostly small farmers, and jealous of all strangers, so that they married almost without exception from the one parish into the other. This intermixture helped to carry the tales of the one parish to the other, and to perpetuate them on the hearths of their homes from generation to generation, until they were swept away by another influence in this century. Many of my ancestors seem to have been very fond of stories, poetry, and singing, and I have been told that some of them were very skilled in these things. So also, in the case of my parents, the memory of the past had a great charm for them on both sides; and when the relatives from Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert met in either parish, there used to be no end to the recounting of pedigrees and the repeating of tales forthe best. By listening to them, I had been filled with desire to become an adept in pedigrees and legends. My parents used to let me go every evening to the house of my grandfather, William ab Rhisiart, the clerk, to listen to tales, and to hear edifying books read. My grandfather was a reader “without his rival,” and “he used to beat the parson hollow.” Many people used to meet at Pen y Bont in the evenings to converse together, and the stories of some of them were now and then exceedingly eloquent. Of course, I listened with eager ears and open mouth, in order, if I heard anything new, to be able to repeat it to my mother. She, unwilling to let herself be beaten, would probably relate another like it, which she had heard from her mother, her grandmother, or her old aunt of Gwastad Annas, who was a fairly good verse-wright of the homely kind. Then my father, if he did not happen to be busy with his music-book, would also give us a tale which he had heard from his grandmother or grandfather, the old John Jones, of Tyn Ỻan Dolwyđelen, or somebody else would do so. That is one source from which I got my knowledge of folklore; but this ceased when we moved from Beđgelert to Carnarvon in the year 1841. My grandfather died in 1844, aged seventy-eight.‘Besides those,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘who used to come to my grandfather’s house and to his workshop to relate stories, the blacksmith’s shop used to be, especially on a rainy day, a capital place for a story, and many a time did I lurk there instead of going to school, in order to hear old William Dafyđ, the sawyer, who, peace be to his ashes! drank many a hornful from theBig Quartwithout ever breaking down, and old Ifan Owen, the fisherman, tearing away for the best at their yarns, sometimes a tissue of lies and sometimes truth. The former was funny, and a great wag, up to all kindsof tricks. He made everybody laugh, whereas the latter would preserve the gravity of a saint, however lying might be the tale which he related. Ifan Owen’s best stories were about the Water Spirit, or, as he called it,Ỻamhigyn y Dwr, “the Water Leaper.” He had not himself seen theỺamhigyn, but his father had seen it “hundreds of times.” Many an evening it had prevented him from catching a single fish in Ỻyn Gwynan, and, when the fisherman got on this theme, his eloquence was apt to become highly polysyllabic in its adjectives. Once in particular, when he had been angling for hours towards the close of the day, without catching anything, he found that something took the fly clean off the hook each time he cast it. After moving from one spot to another on the lake, he fished opposite the Benlan Wen, when something gave his line a frightful pull, “and, by the gallows, I gave another pull,” the fisherman used to say, “with all the force of my arm: out it came, and up it went off the hook, whilst I turned round to see, as it dashed so against the cliff of Benlan that it blazed like a lightning.” He used to add, “If that was not theỺamhigyn, it must have been the very devil himself.” That cliff must be two hundred yards at least from the shore. As to his father, he had seen the Water Spirit many times, and he had also been fishing in the Ỻyn Glâs or Ffynnon Lâs, once upon a time, when he hooked a wonderful and fearful monster: it was not like a fish, but rather resembled a toad, except that it had a tail and wings instead of legs. He pulled it easily enough towards the shore, but, as its head was coming out of the water, it gave a terrible shriek that was enough to split the fisherman’s bones to the marrow, and, had there not been a friend standing by, he would have fallen headlong into the lake, and been possibly dragged like a sheep intothe depth; for there is a tradition that if a sheep got into the Ỻyn Glâs, it could not be got out again, as something would at once drag it to the bottom. This used to be the belief of the shepherds of Cwm Dyli, within my memory, and they acted on it in never letting their dogs go after the sheep in the neighbourhood of this lake. These two funny fellows, William Dafyđ and Ifan Owen, died long ago, without leaving any of their descendants blessed with as much as the faintest gossamer thread of the story-teller’s mantle. The former, if he had been still living, would now be no less than 129 years of age, and the latter about 120.’Mr. Jones proceeds to say that he had stories from sources besides those mentioned, namely, from Lowri Robart, wife of Rhisiart Edwart, the ‘Old Guide’; from his old aunt of Gwastad Annas; from William Wmffra, husband to his grandmother’s sister; from his grandmother, who was a native of Dolwyđelen, but had been brought up at Pwỻgwernog, in Nanmor; from her sister; and from Gruffuđ Prisiart, of Nanmor, afterwards of Glan Colwyn, who gave him the legend of Owen Lawgoch of which I shall have something to say later, and the story of the bogie of Pen Pwll Coch, which I do not know. ‘But the chief story-teller of his time at Beđgelert,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘was Twm Ifan Siams (pronounced Si̯ăms or Shăms), brother, I believe, to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of the Penrhyn, who was a bard and pedigree man. Twm lived at Nanmor, but I know not what his vocation was; his relatives, however, were small farmers, carpenters, and masons. It is not improbable that he was also an artisan, as he was conversant with numbers, magnitude, and letters, and left behind him a volume forming a pedigree book known at Nanmor as theBarcud Mawr, or “Great Kite,” as Gruffuđ Prisiart told me. The latter had been reading it manya time in order to know the origin of somebody or other. All I can remember of this character is that he was very old—over 90—and that he went from house to house in his old age to relate tales and recount pedigrees: great was the welcome he had from everybody everywhere. I remember, also, that he was small of stature, nimble, witty, exceedingly amusing, and always ready with his say on every subject. He was in the habit of calling on my grandfather in his rambles, and very cordial was the reception which my parents always gave him on account of his tales and his knowledge of pedigrees. The story of the afanc, as given in my collection, is from his mouth. You will observe how little difference there is between his version2and that known to Edward Ỻwyd in the year 1695. I had related this story to a friend of mine at Portmadoc, who was grandson or great-grandson to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of Penrhyn, in 1858, when he called my attention to the same story in theCambrian Journalfrom the correspondence of Edward Ỻwyd. I was surprised at the similarity between the two versions, and I went to Beđgelert to Gruffuđ Rhisiart, who was related to Twm Siôn Siams. I read the story to him, and I found that he had heard it related by his uncle just as it was by me, and as given in theCambrian Journal. Twm Ifan Siams had funny stories about the tricks ofGwrach y Rhibyn, theBodach3Glas, and theBwbach Ỻwyd, which he localized in Nanmor and Ỻanfrothen; he had, also, a very eloquent tale about the courtship between a sailor from Moel y Gest, near Portmadoc, and a mermaid, of which I retain a fairlygood recollection. I believe Twm died in the year 1835–6, aged about ninety-five.’So far, I have merely translated Mr. Jones’ account of himself and his authorities as given me in the letter I have already referred to, dated in June of last year, 1881. I would now add the substance of his general remarks about the fairies, as he had heard them described, and as he expressed himself in his essay for the competition on folklore at the Carnarvon Eisteđfod of 1880:—The traditions, he says, respecting theTylwyth Tegvary according to the situation of the districts with which they are connected, and many more such traditions continue to be remembered among the inhabitants of the mountains than by those of the more level country. In some places theTylwyth Tegare described as a small folk of a thieving nature, living in summer among the fern bushes in the mountains, and in winter in the heather and gorse. These were wont to frequent the fairs and to steal money from the farmers’ pockets, where they placed in its stead their own fairy money, which looked like the coin of the realm, but when it was paid for anything bought it would vanish in the pockets of the seller. In other districts the fairies were described as a little bigger and stronger folk; but these latter were also of a thieving disposition. They would lurk around people’s houses, looking for an opportunity to steal butter and cheese from the dairies, and they skulked about the cow-yards, in order to milk the cows and the goats, which they did so thoroughly that many a morning there was not a drop of milk to be had. The principal mischief, however, which those used to do, was to carry away unbaptized infants, and place in their stead their own wretched and peevish offspring. They were said to live in hidden caves in the mountains, and he had heard one old man asserting his firmbelief that it was beneath Moel Eilio, also called Moel Eilian, a mountain lying between Ỻanberis and Cweỻyn, theTylwyth Tegof Nant y Bettws lived, whom he had seen many a time when he was a lad; and, if any one came across the mouth of their cave, he thought that he would find there a wonderful amount of wealth, ‘for they were thieves without their like.’ There is still another species ofTylwyth Teg, very unlike the foregoing ones in their nature and habits. Not only was this last kind far more beautiful and comely than the others, but they were honest and good towards mortals. Their whole nature was replete with joy and fun, nor were they ever beheld hardly, except engaged in some merry-making or other. They might be seen on bright moonlight nights at it, singing and carolling playfully on the fair meadows and the green slopes, at other times dancing lightly on the tops of the rushes in the valleys. They were also wont to be seen hunting in full force on the backs of their grey horses; for this kind were rich, and kept horses and servants. Though it used to be said that they were spiritual and immortal beings, still they ate and drank like human beings: they married and had children. They were also remarkable for their cleanliness, and they were wont to reward neat maid-servants and hospitable wives. So housewives used to exhort their maids to clean their houses thoroughly every night before going to bed, saying that if theTylwyth Teghappened to enter, they would be sure to leave money for them somewhere; but they were to tell no one in case they found any, lest theTylwythshould be offended and come no more. The mistresses also used to order a tinful of water to be placed at the foot of the stairs, a clean cloth on the table, with bread and its accompaniments (bara ac enỻyn) placed on it, so that, if theTylwythcame in to eat, the maids shouldhave their recompense on the hob as well as unstinted praise for keeping the house clean, or, as Mr. Jones has it in a couplet from Goronwy Owen’sCywyđ y Cynghorfynt—Cael eu rhent ar y pentan,A ỻwyr glod o bai ỻawr glân.Finding the fairies’ pay on the hob,With full credit for a clean floor.Thus, whether the fairies came or not to pay a visit to them during their sleep, the house would be clean by the morning, and the table ready set for breakfast. It appears that the places most frequently resorted to by this species were rushy combes surrounded by smooth hills with round tops, also the banks of rivers and the borders of lakes; but they were seldom seen at any time near rocks or cliffs. So more tales about them are found in districts of the former description than anywhere else, and among them may be mentioned Penmachno, Dolwyđelan, the sides of Moel Siabod, Ỻandegái Mountain, and from there to Ỻanberis, to Nantỻe Lakes, to Moel Tryfan4and Nant y Bettws, the upper portion of the parish of Beđgelert from Drws y Coed to the Pennant, and the district beginning from there and including the level part of Eifion, on towards Celynnog Fawr. I have very little doubt that there are many traditions about them in the neighbourhood of the Eifl and in Ỻeyn; I know but little, however, about these last. This kind of fairies was said to live underground, and the way to their country lay under hollow banks that overhung the deepest parts of the lakes, or the deepest pools in the rivers, so that mortals could not follow them further than the water, should they try to go after them. They used to come out in broad daylight,two or three together, and now and then a shepherd, so the saying went, used to talk and chat with them. Sometimes, moreover, he fell over head and ears in love with their damsels, but they did not readily allow a mortal to touch them. The time they were to be seen in their greatest glee was at night when the moon was full, when they celebrated a merry night (noswaith lawen). At midnight to the minute, they might be seen rising out of the ground in every combe and valley; then, joining hands, they would form into circles, and begin to sing and dance with might and main until the cock crew, when they would vanish. Many used to go to look at them on those nights, but it was dangerous to go too near them, lest they should lure the spectator into their circle; for if that happened, they would throw a charm over him, which would make him invisible to his companions, and he would be detained by the fairies as long as he lived. At times some people went too near to them, and got snatched in; and at other times a love-inspired youth, fascinated by the charms of one of their damsels, rushed in foolhardily to try to seize one of them, and became instantly surrounded and concealed from sight. If he could be got out before the cock crew he would be no worse; but once the fairies disappeared without his having been released, he would never more be seen in the land of the living. The way to get the captured man out was to take a long stick of mountain ash (pren criafol), which two or more strong men had to hold with one of its ends in the middle of the circle, so that when the man came round in his turn in the dance he might take hold of it, for he is there bodily though not visible, so that he cannot go past without coming across the stick. Then the others pull him out, for the fairies, no more than any other spirit, dare touch the mountain ash.We now proceed to give some of Mr. Jones’ legends. The first is one which he published in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 70, whence the following free translation is made of it:—‘In the north-west corner of the parish of Beđgelert there is a place which used to be called by the old inhabitants the Land of the Fairies, and it reaches from Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ along the slope of the mountain of Drws y Coed as far as Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The old people of former times used to find much pleasure and amusement in this district in listening every moonlight night to the charming music of the fair family, and in looking at their dancing and their mirthful sports. Once on a time, a long while ago, there lived at upper Drws y Coed a youth, who was joyous and active, brave and determined of heart. This young man amused himself every night by looking on and listening to them. One night they had come to a field near the house, near the shore of Ỻyn y Dywarchen, to pass a merry night. He went, as usual, to look at them, when his glances at once fell on one of the ladies, who possessed such beauty as he had never seen in a human being. Her appearance was like that of alabaster; her voice was as agreeable as the nightingale’s, and as unruffled as the zephyr in a flower-garden at the noon of a long summer’s day; and her gait was pretty and aristocratic; her feet moved in the dance as lightly on the grass as the rays of the sun had a few hours before on the lake hard by. He fell in love with her over head and ears, and in the strength of that passion—for what is stronger than love!—he rushed, when the bustle was at its height, into the midst of the fair crowd, and snatched the graceful damsel in his arms, and ran instantly with her to the house. When the fair family saw the violence used by a mortal, they broke up the dance and ran after hertowards the house; but, when they arrived, the door had been bolted with iron, wherefore they could not get near her or touch her in any way; and the damsel had been placed securely in a chamber. The youth, having her now under his roof, as is the saying, endeavoured, with all his talent, to win her affection and to induce her to wed. But at first she would on no account hear of it; on seeing his persistence, however, and on finding that he would not let her go to return to her people, she consented to be his servant if he could find out her name; but she would not be married to him. As he thought that was not impossible, he half agreed to the condition; but, after bothering his head with all the names known in that neighbourhood, he found himself no nearer his point, though he was not willing to give up the search hurriedly. One night, as he was going home from Carnarvon market, he saw a number of the fair folks in a turbary not far from his path. They seemed to him to be engaged in an important deliberation, and it struck him that they were planning how to recover their abducted sister. He thought, moreover, that if he could secretly get within hearing, he might possibly find her name out. On looking carefully around, he saw that a ditch ran through the turbary and passed near the spot where they stood. So he made his way round to the ditch, and crept, on all fours, along it until he was within hearing of the family. After listening a little, he found that their deliberation was as to the fate of the lady he had carried away, and he heard one of them crying, piteously, “O Penelop, O Penelop, my sister, why didst thou run away with a mortal!” “Penelop,” said the young man to himself, “that must be the name of my beloved: that is enough.” At once he began to creep back quietly, and he returned home safely without having been seen by the fairies.When he got into the house, he called out to the girl, saying, “Penelop, my beloved one, come here!” and she came forward and asked, in astonishment, “O mortal, who has betrayed my name to thee?” Then, lifting up her tiny folded hands, she exclaimed, “Alas, my fate, my fate!” But she grew contented with her fate, and took to her work in earnest. Everything in the house and on the farm prospered under her charge. There was no better or cleanlier housewife in the neighbourhood around, or one that was more provident than she. The young man, however, was not satisfied that she should be a servant to him, and, after he had long and persistently sought it, she consented to be married, on the one condition, that, if ever he should touch her with iron, she would be free to leave him and return to her family. He agreed to that condition, since he believed that such a thing would never happen at his hands. So they were married, and lived several years happily and comfortably together. Two children were born to them, a boy and a girl, the picture of their mother and the idols of their father. But one morning, when the husband wanted to go to the fair at Carnarvon, he went out to catch a filly that was grazing in the field by the house; but for the life of him he could not catch her, and he called to his wife to come to assist him. She came without delay, and they managed to drive the filly to a secure corner, as they thought; but, as the man approached to catch her, she rushed past him. In his excitement, he threw the bridle after her; but, who should be running in the direction of it, but his wife! The iron bit struck her on the cheek, and she vanished out of sight on the spot. Her husband never saw her any more; but one cold frosty night, a long time after this event, he was awakened from his sleep by somebody rubbing the glass of his window, and, after he had givena response, he recognized the gentle and tender voice of his wife saying to him:—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.It is said that the descendants of this family still continue in these neighbourhoods, and that they are easy to be recognized by their light and fair complexion. A similar story is related of the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, in Ỻanfihangel y Pennant, and it used to be said that most of the inhabitants of that neighbourhood were formerly of a light complexion. I have often heard old people saying, that it was only necessary, within their memory, to point out in the fair at Penmorfa any one as being of the breed of theTylwyth, to cause plenty of fighting that day at least.’The reader may compare with this tale the following, for which I have to thank Mr. Samuel Rhys Williams, whose words I give, followed by a translation:—Yr oeđ gwr ieuanc o gymydogaeth Drws y Coed yn dychwelyd adref o Beđgelert ar noswaith loergan ỻeuad; pan ar gyfer Ỻyn y Gader gwelai nifer o’r boneđigesau a elwir y Tylwyth Teg yn myned trwy eu chwareuon nosawl. Swynwyd y ỻanc yn y fan gan brydferthwch y rhianod hyn, ac yn neiỻduol un o honynt. Coỻođ y ỻywodraeth arno ei hunan i’r fath rađau fel y penderfynođ neidio i’r cylch a dwyn yn ysbail iđo yr hon oeđ wedi myned a’i galon mor ỻwyr. Cyflawnođ ei fwriad a dygođ y foneđiges gydag ef adref. Bu yn wraig iđo, a ganwyd plant iđynt. Yn đamweiniol, tra yn cyflawni rhyw orchwyl, digwyđođ iđo ei tharo a haiarn ac ar amrantiad diflannođ ei anwylyd o’i olwg ac nis gwelođ hi mwyach, ond đarfod iđi đyfod at ffenestr ei ystafeỻ wely un noswaith ar ol hyn a’i annog i fod yn dirion wrth y plant a’i bod hi yn aros gerỻaw y tyyn Ỻyny Dywarchen. Y mae y trađodiad hefyd yn ein hysbysu đarfod i’r gwr hwn symud i fyw o Đrws y Coed i Ystrad Betws Garmon.‘A young man, from the neighbourhood of Drws y Coed, was returning home one bright moonlight night, from Beđgelert; when he came opposite the lake called Ỻyn y Gader, he saw a number of the ladies known as theTylwyth Teggoing through their nightly frolics. The youth was charmed at once by the beauty of these ladies, and especially by one of them. He so far lost his control over himself, that he resolved to leap into the circle and carry away as his spoil the one who had so completely robbed him of his heart. He accomplished his intention, and carried the lady home with him. She became his wife, and children were born to them. Accidentally, while at some work or other, it happened to him to strike her with iron, and, in the twinkling of an eye, his beloved one disappeared from his sight. He saw her no more, except that she came to his bedroom window one night afterwards, and told him to be tender to the children, and that she was staying, near the house, in the lake called Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The tradition also informs us that this man moved from Drws y Coed to live at Ystrad near Bettws Garmon.’The name Ỻyn y Dywarchen, I may add, means the Lake of the Sod or Turf: it is the one with the floating island, described thus by Giraldus, ii. 9 (p. 135):—Alter enim insulam habet erraticam, vi ventorum impellentium ad oppositas plerumque lacus partes errabundam. Hic armenta pascentia nonnunquam pastores ad longinquas subito partes translata mirantur.‘For one of the two lakes holds a wandering island, which strays mostly with the force of the winds impelling it to the opposite parts of the lake. Sometimes cattle grazing on it are,to the surprise of the shepherds, suddenly carried across to the more distant parts.’ Sheep are known to get on the floating islet, and it is still believed to float them away from the shore. Mr. S. Rhys Williams, it will be noticed, has given the substance of the legend rather than the story itself. I now proceed to translate the same tale as given in Welsh inCymru Fu(pp. 474–7 of the edition published by Messrs. Hughes and Son, Wrexham), in a very different dress—it is from Glasynys’ pen, and, as might be expected, decked out with all the literary adornments in which he delighted. The language he used was his own, but there is no reason to think that he invented any of the incidents:—‘The farmer of Drws y Coed’s son was one misty day engaged as a shepherd on the side of the mountain, a little below Cwm Marchnad, and, as he crossed a rushy flat, he saw a wonderfully handsome little woman standing under a clump of rushes. Her yellow and curly hair hung down in ringed locks, and her eyes were as blue as the clear sky, while her forehead was as white as the wavy face of a snowdrift that has nestled on the side of Snowdon only a single night. Her two plump cheeks were each like a red rose, and her pretty-lipped mouth might make an angel eager to kiss her. The youth approached her, filled with love for her, and, with delicacy and affection, asked her if he might converse with her. She smiled kindly, and reaching out her hand, said to him, “Idol of my hopes, thou hast come at last!” They began to associate secretly, and to meet one another daily here and there on the moors around the banks of Ỻyn y Gader; at last, their love had waxed so strong that the young man could not be at peace either day or night, as he was always thinking of Bella or humming to himself a verse of poetry about her charms. The yellow-haired youth was now andthen lost for a long while, and nobody could divine his history. His acquaintances believed that he had been fascinated: at last the secret was found out. There were about Ỻyn y Dywarchen shady and concealing copses: it was there he was wont to go, and the she-elf would always be there awaiting him, and it was therefore that the place where they used to meet got to be calledỺwyn y Forwyn, the Maiden’s Grove. After fondly loving for a long time, it was resolved to wed; but it was needful to get the leave of the damsel’s father. One moonlight night it was agreed to meet in the wood, and the appointment was duly kept by the young man, but there was no sign of the subterranean folks coming, until the moon disappeared behind the Garn. Then the two arrived, and the old man at once proceeded to say to the suitor: “Thou shalt have my daughter on the condition that thou do not strike her with iron. If thou ever touch her with iron, she will no longer be thine, but shall return to her own.” The man consented readily, and great was his joy. They were betrothed, and seldom was a handsomer pair seen at the altar. It was rumoured that a vast sum of money as dowry had arrived with the pretty lady at Drws y Coed on the evening of her nuptials. Soon after, the mountain shepherd of Cwm Marchnad passed for a very rich and influential man. In the course of time they had children, and no happier people ever lived together than their parents. Everything went on regularly and prosperously for a number of years: they became exceedingly wealthy, but the sweet is not to be had without the bitter. One day they both went out on horseback, and they happened to go near Ỻyn y Gader, when the wife’s horse got into a bog and sank to his belly. After the husband had got Bella off his back, he succeeded with much trouble in getting the horse out, and thenhe let him go. Then he lifted her on the back of his own, but, unfortunately, in trying quickly to place her foot in the stirrup, the iron part of the same slipped, and struck her—or, rather, it touched her at the knee-joint. Before they had made good half their way home, several of the diminutiveTylwythbegan to appear to them, and the sound of sweet singing was heard on the side of the hill. Before the husband reached Drws y Coed his wife had left him, and it is supposed that she fled to Ỻwyn y Forwyn, and thence to the world below to Faery. She left her dear little ones to the care of her beloved, and no more came near them. Some say, however, that she sometimes contrived to see her beloved one in the following manner. As the law of her country did not permit her to frequent the earth with an earthly being, she and her mother invented a way of avoiding the one thing and of securing the other. A great piece of sod was set to float on the surface of the lake, and on that she used to be for long hours, freely conversing in tenderness with her consort on shore; by means of that plan they managed to live together until he breathed his last. Their descendants owned Drws y Coed for many generations, and they intermarried and mixed with the people of the district. Moreover, many a fierce fight took place in later times at theGwyl-fabsantat Dolbenmaen or at Penmorfa, because the men of Eifionyđ had a habit of annoying the people of Pennant by calling them Bellisians.’In a note, Glasynys remarks that this tale is located in many districts without much variation, except in the names of the places; this, however, could not apply to the latter part, which suits Ỻyn y Dywarchen alone. With this account of the fairy wife frequenting a lake island to converse with her husband on shore, compare the Irish story of the Children of Lir, who, thoughtransformed into swans, were allowed to retain their power of reasoning and speaking, so that they used to converse from the surface of the water with their friends on the dry land: see Joyce’sOld Celtic Romances, pp. x, 1–36. Now I return to another tale which was sent me by Mr. William Jones: unless I am mistaken it has not hitherto been published; so I give the Welsh together with a free translation of it:—Yr oeđ ystori am fab Braich y Dinas a adrođai y diweđar hybarch Elis Owen o Gefn y Meusyđ yn ỻed debyg i chwedl mab yr Ystrad gan Glasynys, sef iđo hudo un o ferched y Tylwyth Teg i lawr o Foel Hebog, a’i chipio i mewn i’r ty drwy orthrech; ac wedi hynny efe a’i perswadiođ i ymbriodi ag ef ar yr un telerau ag y gwnaeth mab yr Ystrad. Ond clywais hen foneđiges o’r enw Mrs. Roberts, un o ferched yr Isaỻt, oeđ lawer hyn na Mr. Owen, yn ei hadrođ yn wahanol. Yr oeđ yr hen wreigan hon yn credu yn nilysrwyđ y chwedl, oblegid yr oeđ hi ‘yn cofio rhai o’r teulu, waeth be’ đeudo neb.’ Dirwynnai ei hedau yn debyg i hyn:—Yn yr amser gynt—ond o ran hynny pan oeđ hi yn ferch ifanc—yr oeđ ỻawer iawn o Dylwyth Teg yn trigo mewn rhyw ogofau yn y Foel o Gwm Ystradỻyn hyd i flaen y Pennant. Yr oeđ y Tylwyth hwn yn ỻawer iawn harđach na dim a welid mewn un rhan araỻ o’r wlad. Yr oeđynt o ran maint yn fwy o lawer na’r rhai cyffredin, yn lan eu pryd tu hwnt i bawb, eu gwaỻt yn oleu fel ỻin, eu ỻygaid yn loyw leision. Yr oeđynt yn ymđangos mewn rhyw le neu gilyđ yn chwareu, canu ac ymđifyru bob nos deg a goleu; a byđai swn eu canu yn denu y ỻanciau a’r merched ifainc i fyned i’w gweled; ac os byđent yn digwyđ bod o bryd goleu hwy a ymgomient a hwynt, ond ni adawent i un person o liw tywyỻ đod yn agos atynt, eithr cilient ymaith o fforđ y cyfryw un. Yrŵan yr oeđ mab Braich y Dinas yn ỻanc harđ, heini, bywiog ac o bryd glan, goleu a serchiadol. Yr oeđhwn yn hoff iawn o edrych ar y Tylwyth, a byđai yn cael ymgom a rhai o honynt yn aml, ond yn bennaf ag un o’r merched oeđ yn rhagori arnynt oỻ mewn glendid a synwyr; ac o fynych gyfarfod syrthiođ y đau mewn cariad a’u gilyđ, eithr ni fynai hi ymbriodi ag ef, ond ađawođ fyned i’w wasanaeth, a chydunođ i’w gyfarfod yn Mhant—nid wyf yn cofio yr enw i gyd—drannoeth, oblegid nid oeđ wiw iđi geisio myned gydag ef yn ngwyđ y ỻeiỻ. Feỻy drannoeth aeth i fynu i’r Foel, a chyfarfyđođ y rhian ef yn ol ei hađewid, ag aeth gydag ef adref, ac ymgymerođ a’r swyđ o laethwraig, a buan y dechreuođ popeth lwyđo o dan ei ỻaw: yr oeđ yr ymenyn a’r caws yn cynhyđu beunyđ. Hir a thaer y bu’r ỻanc yn ceisio ganđi briodi. A hi a ađawođ, os medrai ef gael aỻan ei henw. Ni wyđai Mrs. Roberts drwy ba ystryw y ỻwyđođ i gael hwnnw, ond hynny a fu, a daeth ef i’r ty un noswaith a galwođ ar ‘Sibi,’ a phan glywođ hi ei henw, hi a aeth i lewygfa; ond pan đaeth ati ei hun, hi a ymfođlonođ i briodi ar yr amod nad oeđ ef i gyffwrđ a hi a haiarn ac nad oeđ boỻt haiarn i fod ar y drws na chlo ychwaith, a hynny a fu: priodwyd hwynt, a buont fyw yn gysurus am lawer o flynyđoeđ, a ganwyd iđynt amryw blant. Y diweđ a fu fel hyn: yr oeđ ef wedi myned un diwrnod i dori baich o frwyn at doi, a tharawođ y cryman yn y baich i fyned adref; fel yr oeđ yn nesu at y gadlas, rhedođ Sibi i’w gyfarfod, a thaflođ ynteu y baich brwyn yn đireidus tu ag ati, a rhag iđo đyfod ar ei thraws ceisiođ ei atal a’i ỻaw, yr hon a gyffyrđođ a’r cryman; a hi a điflannođ o’r golwg yn y fan yn nghysgod y baich brwyn: ni welwyd ac ni chlywyd dim ođiwrthi mwyach.‘There was a story respecting the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, which used to be told by the late respected Mr. Ellis Owen, of Cefn y Meusyđ, somewhat in the same way as that about the Ystrad youth, as told by Glasynys; that is to say, the young man enticed oneof the damsels of the fair family to come down from Moel Hebog, and then he carried her by force into the house, and afterwards persuaded her to become his wife on the same conditions as the heir of Ystrad did. But I have heard an old lady called Mrs. Roberts, who had been brought up at Isaỻt, and who was older than Mr. Owen, relating it differently. This old woman believed in the truth of the story, as “she remembered some of the family, whatever anybody may say.” She used to spin her yarn somewhat as follows:—In old times—but, for the matter of that, when she was a young woman—there were a great many of the fair family living in certain caves in the Foel from CwmStráỻyn5down to the upper part of Pennant. ThisTylwythwas much handsomer than any seen in any other part of the country. In point of stature they were much bigger than the ordinary ones, fair of complexion beyond everybody, with hair that was as light as flax, and eyes that were of a clear blue colour. They showed themselves in one spot or another, engaged in playing, singing, and jollity every light night. The sound of their singing used to draw the lads and the young women to look at them; and, should they be of clear complexion, the fairies would chat with them; but they would let no person of a dark hue come near them: they moved away from such a one. Now the young man of Braich y Dinas was a handsome, vigorous, and lively stripling of fair, clear, and attractive complexion. He was very fond of looking at the fair family, and had a chat with some of them often,but chiefly with one of the damsels, who surpassed all the rest in beauty and good sense. The result of frequently meeting was that they fell in love with one another, but she would not marry him. She promised, however, to go to service to him, and agreed to meet him at Pant y—I have forgotten the rest of the name—the day after, as it would not do for her to go with him while the others happened to be looking on. So he went up the next day to the Foel, and the damsel met him according to her promise, and went with him home, where she took to the duties of a dairymaid. Soon everything began to prosper under her hand; the butter and the cheese were daily growing in quantity. Long and importunately did the youth try to get her to marry him. She promised to do so provided he could find out her name. Mrs. Roberts did not know by what manœuvre he succeeded in discovering it, but it was done, and he came into the house one night and called to “Sibi,” and when she heard her name she fainted away. When, however, she recovered her consciousness, she consented to marry on the condition that he was not to touch her with iron, and that there was not to be a bolt of iron on the door, or a lock either. It was agreed, and they were married; they lived together comfortably many years, and had children born to them. The end came thus: he had gone one day to cut a bundle of rushes for thatching, and planted the reaping-hook in the bundle to go home. As he drew towards the haggard, Sibi ran out to meet him, and he wantonly threw the bundle of rushes towards her, when she, to prevent its hitting her, tried to stop it with her hand, which touched the reaping-hook. She vanished on the spot out of sight behind the bundle of rushes, and nothing more was seen or heard of her.’Mr. Ellis Owen, alluded to above, was a highly respected gentleman, well known in North Wales for his literary and antiquarian tastes. He was born in 1789 at Cefn y Meusyđ near Tremadoc, where he continued to live till the day of his death, which was January 27, 1868. His literary remains, preceded by a short biography, were published in 1877 by Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc; but it contains no fairy tales so far as I have been able to find.A tale which partially reminds one of that given by Dewi Glan Ffrydlas respecting the Corwrion midwife, referred to at p. 63 above, was published by Mr. W. Jones in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 251: freely rendered into English, it runs thus:—‘Once on a time, when a midwife from Nanhwynan had newly got to the Hafođyđ Brithion to pursue her calling, a gentleman came to the door on a fine grey steed and bade her come with him at once. Such was the authority with which he spoke, that the poor midwife durst not refuse to go, however much it was her duty to stay where she was. So she mounted behind him, and off they went, like the flight of a swallow, through Cwmỻan, over the Bwlch, down Nant yr Aran, and over the Gader to Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ, before the poor woman had time even to say Oh! When they reached there, she saw before her a magnificent mansion, splendidly lit up with such lamps as she had never seen before. They entered the court, and a crowd of servants in expensive liveries came to meet them, and she was at once led through the great hall into a bed-chamber, the like of which she had never seen. There the mistress of the house, to whom she had been fetched, was awaiting her. The midwife got through her duties successfully, and stayed there until the lady had completely recovered, nor had she spent any part of herlife so merrily, for there nought but festivity went on day and night: dancing, singing, and endless rejoicing reigned there. But merry as it was, she found that she must go, and the nobleman gave her a large purse, with the order not to open it until she had got into her own house. Then he bade one of his servants escort her the same way that she had come. When she reached home she opened the purse, and, to her great joy, it was full of money: she lived happily on those earnings to the end of her life.’With this ending of the story one should contrast Dewi Glan Ffrydlas’ tale to which I have already alluded; and I may here refer to Mr. Sikes’British Goblins, pp. 86–8, for a tale differing from both Dewi’s and Jones’, in that the fairies are there made to appear as devils to the nurse, who had accidentally used a certain ointment which she was not to place near her own eyes. Instead of being rewarded for her services she was only too glad to be deposited anyhow near her home. ‘But,’ as the story goes on to relate, ‘very many years afterwards, being at a fair, she saw a man stealing something from a stall, and, with one corner of her eye, beheld her old master pushing the man’s elbow. Unthinkingly she said, “How are you, master? how are the children?” He said, “How did you see me?” She answered, “With the corner of my left eye.” From that moment she was blind of her left eye, and lived many years with only her right.’ Such is the end of this tale given by Mr. Sikes.‘But the fair family did not,’ Mr. William Jones goes on to say, ‘always give mortals the means of good living: sometimes they made no little fun of them. Once on a time the Drws y Coed man was going home from Beđgelert Fair, rather merry than sad, along the old road over the Gader, when he saw, on coming nearthe top of the Gader, a fine, handsome house near the road, in which there was a rare merrymaking. He knew perfectly well that there was no such a building anywhere on his way, and it made him think that he had lost his way and gone astray; so he resolved to turn into the house to ask for lodgings, which were given him. At once, when he entered, he took it to be a nuptial feast (neithior) by reason of the jollity, the singing, and the dancing. The house was full of young men, young women, and children, all merry, and exerting themselves to the utmost. The company began to disappear one by one, and he asked if he might go to bed, whereupon he was led to a splendid chamber, where there was a bed of the softest down with snow-white clothes on it. He stripped at once, went into it, and slept quietly enough till the morning. The first thing to come to his mind when he lay half asleep, half awake, was the jollity of the night before, and the fact of his sleeping in a splendid chamber in the strange house. He opened his eyes to survey his bedroom, but it was too wide: he was sleeping on the bare swamp, with a clump of rushes as his pillow, and the blue sky as his coverlet.’Mr. Jones mentions that, within his memory, there were still people in his neighbourhood who believed that the fairies stole unbaptized children and placed their own in their stead: he gives the following story about the farmer’s wife of Dyffryn Mymbyr, near Capel Curig, and her infant:—Yr oeđ y wraig hon wedi rhođi genedigaeth i blentyn iach a heinif yn nechreu y cynheuaf ryw haf blin a thymhestlog: ac o herwyđ fod y tyđyn getyn o fforđ ođiwrth lan na chapel, a’r hin mor hynod o lawiog, esgeuluswyd bedyđio y plentyn yn yr amser arferol, sef cyn ei fod yn wyth niwrnod oed. Ryw điwrnod teg ynnghanol y cynheuaf blin aeth y wraig aỻan i’r maes gyda’r rhelyw o’r teulu i geisio achub y cynheuaf, a gadawođ y baban yn cysgu yn ei gryd o dan ofal ei nain, yr hon oeđ hen a methiantus, ac yn anaỻuog i fyned lawer o gwmpas. Syrthiođ yr hen wreigan i gysgu, a thra yr oeđ hi feỻy, daeth y Tylwyth i fewn, a chymerasant y baban o’r cryd, a dodasant un araỻ yn ei le. Yn mhen ennyd dechreuođ hwn erain a chwyno nes deffro y nain, ac aeth at y cryd, ỻe y gwelođ gleiriach hen eiđil crebachlyd yn ymstwyrian yn flin. ‘O’r wchw!’ ebai hi, ‘y mae yr hen Dylwyth wedi bod yma;’ ac yn đioed chwythođ yn y corn i alw y fam, yr hon a đaeth yno yn điatreg; a phan glywođ y crio yn y cryd, rhedođ ato, a chodođ y bychan i fynu heb sylwi arno, a hi a’i cofleidiođ, a’i suođ ac a’i swcrođ at ei bronnau, ond nid oeđ dim yn tycio, parhau i nadu yn đidor yr oeđ nes bron a hoỻti ei chalon; ac ni wyđai pa beth i wneud i’w đistewi. O’r diweđ hi a edrychođ arno, a gwelođ nad oeđ yn debyg i’w mhebyn hi, ac aeth yn loes i’w chalon: edrychođ arno drachefn, ond po fwyaf yr edrychai arno, hyỻaf yn y byd oeđ hi yn ei weled; anfonođ am ei gwr o’r cae, a gyrrođ ef i ymholi am wr cyfarwyđ yn rhywle er mwyn cael ei gynghor; ac ar ol hir holi dywedođ rhywun wrtho fod person Trawsfynyđ yn gyfarwyđ yn nghyfrinion yr ysprydion; ac efe a aeth ato, ac archođ hwnnw iđo gymeryd rhaw a’i gorchuđio a halen, a thori ỻun croes yn yr halen; yna ei chymeryd i’r ystafeỻ ỻe yr oeđ mab y Tylwyth, ac ar ol agor y ffenestr, ei rhođi ar y tan hyd nes y ỻosgai yr halen; a hwy a wnaethant feỻy, a phan aeth yr halen yn eiriasboeth fe aeth yr erthyl croes ymaith yn anweledig iđynt hwy, ac ar drothwy y drws hwy a gawsant y baban araỻ yn iach a dianaf.‘This woman had given birth to a healthy and vigorous child at the beginning of the harvest, one wretched andinclement summer. As the homestead was a considerable distance from church or chapel, and the weather so very rainy, it was neglected to baptize the child at the usual6time, that is to say, before it was eight days old. One fine day, in the middle of this wretched harvest, the mother went to the field with the rest of the family to try to save the harvest, and left her baby sleeping in its cradle in its grandmother’s charge, who was so aged and decrepit as to be unable to go much about. The old woman fell asleep, and, while she was in that state, theTylwyth Tegcame in and took away the baby, placing another in its stead. Very shortly the latter began to whine and groan, so that the grandmother awoke: she went to the cradle, where she saw a slender, wizened old man moving restlessly and peevishly about. “Alas! alas!” said she, “the oldTylwythhave been here”; and she at once blew in the horn to call the mother home, who came without delay. As she heard the crying in the cradle, she ran towards it, and lifted the little one without looking at him; she hugged him, put him to her breast, and sang lullaby to him, but nothing was of any avail, as he continued, without stopping, to scream enough to break her heart; and she knew not what to do to calm him. At last she looked at him: she saw that he was not like her dear little boy, and her heart was pierced with agony. She looked at him again, and the more she examined him the uglier he seemed to her. She sent for her husband home from the field, and told him to search for a skilled man somewhere or other; and, after a long search, he was told by somebody that the parson of Trawsfynyđ was skilled in the secrets of the spirits;so he went to him. The latter bade him take a shovel and cover it with salt, and make the figure of the cross in the salt; then to take it to the chamber where the fairy child was, and, after taking care to open the window, to place the shovel on the fire until the salt was burnt. This was done, and when the salt had got white hot, the peevish abortion went away, seen of no one, and they found the other baby whole and unscathed at the doorstep.’ Fire was also made use of in Scotland in order to detect a changeling and force him to quit: see the British Association’sReport, 1896, p. 650, where Mr. Gomme refers to Mr. Gregor’sFolk-lore of the North-east of Scotland, pp. 8–9.In answer to a question of mine with regard to gossamer, which is called in North Walesedafeđ gwawn, ‘gwawnyarn,’ Mr. Jones told me in a letter, dated April, 1881, that it used to be calledRhaffau’r Tylwyth Teg, that is to say, the Ropes of the Fair Family, which were associated with the diminutive, mischievous, and wanton kind of fairies who dwelt in marshy and rushy places, or among the fern and the heather. It used to be said that, if a man should lie down and fall asleep in any such a spot, the fairies would come and bind him with their ropes so that he could not move, and that they would then cover him with a sheet made of their ropes, which would make him invisible. This was illustrated by him by the following tale he had heard from his mother:—Clywais fy mam yn adrođ chwedl am fab y Ffriđ, yr hwn wrth đychwelyd adref o ffair Beđgelert yn rhywle ođeutu Pen Cae’r Gors a welođ beth afrifed o’r Tylwyth Bach yn neidio a phrancio ar bennau y grug. Efe a eisteđođ i lawr i edrych arnynt, a daeth hun drosto; ymoỻyngođ i lawr a chysgođ yn drwm. A phan oeđ feỻy, ymosodođ yr hoỻ lu arno a rhwymasant ef mor dyn felna aỻasai symud; yna hwy a’i cuđiasant ef a’r tuđed gwawn fel na aỻai neb ei weled os digwyđai iđo lefain am help. Yr oeđ ei deulu yn ei đisgwyl adref yn gynnar y nos honno, ac wrth ei weled yn oedi yn hwyr, aethant yn anesmwyth am dano ac aethpwyd i’w gyfarfod, eithr ni welent đim ođiwrtho, ac aed gan beỻed a’r pentref, ỻe en hyspyswyd ei fod wedi myned tuag adref yn gynnar gyda gwr Hafod Ruffyđ. Feỻy aed tua’r Hafod i edrych a oeđ yno; ond dywedođ gwr yr Hafod eu bod wedi ymwahanu ar Bont Glan y Gors, pawb tua’i fan ei hun. Yna chwiliwyd yn fanwl bob ochr i’r fforđ ođiyno i’r Ffriđ heb weled dim ođiwrtho. Buwyd yn chwilio yr hoỻ ardal drwy y dyđ drannoeth ond yn ofer. Fođ bynnag ođeutu yr un amser nos drannoeth daeth y Tylwyth ac a’i rhyđhasant, ac yn fuan efe a đeffrôđ wedi cysgu o hono drwy y nos a’r dyđ blaenorol. Ar ol iđo đeffro ni wyđai amcan daear yn mha le yr oeđ, a chrwydro y bu hyd ochrau y Gader a’r Gors Fawr hyd nes y canođ y ceiliog, pryd yr adnabu yn mha le yr oeđ, sef o fewn ỻai na chwarter miỻtir i’w gartref.‘I have heard my mother relating a tale about the son of the farmer of the Ffriđ, who, while on his way home from Beđgelert Fair, saw, somewhere near Pen Cae’r Gors, an endless number of the diminutive family leaping and capering on the heather tops. He sat him down to look at them, and sleep came over him; he let himself down on the ground, and slept heavily. When he was so, the whole host attacked him, and they bound him so tightly that he could not have stirred; then they covered him with the gossamer sheet, so that nobody could see him in case he called for help. His people expected him home early that evening, and, as they found him delaying till late, they got uneasy about him. They went to meet him, but no trace of him was seen,and they went as far as the village, where they were informed that he had started home in good time with the farmer of Hafod Ruffyđ. So they went to the Hafod to see if he was there; but the farmer told them that they had parted on Glan y Gors Bridge to go to their respective homes. A minute search was then made on both sides of the road from there to the Ffriđ, but without finding any trace of him. They kept searching the whole neighbourhood during the whole of the next day, but in vain. However, about the same time the following night theTylwythcame and liberated him, and he shortly woke up, after sleeping through the previous night and day. When he woke he had no idea where on earth he was; so he wandered about on the slopes of the Gader and near the Gors Fawr until the cock crew, when he found where he was, namely, less than a quarter of a mile from his home.’The late Mr. Owen, of Cefn Meusyđ, has already been alluded to. I have not been able to get at much of the folklore with which he was familiar, but, in reply to some questions of mine, Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc, his biographer, and the publisher of theBrython, so long as it existed, has kindly ransacked his memory. He writes to me in Welsh to the following effect:—‘I will tell you what I heard from Mr. Owen and my mother when I was a lad, about fifty-seven years ago. The former used to say that the people of Pennant in Eifionyđ had a nickname, to wit, that ofBelsiaid y Pennant, “the Bellisians of the Pennant”; that, when he was a boy, if anybody called outBelsiaid y Pennantat the Penmorfa Fair, every man jack of them would come out, and fighting always ensued. The antiquary used to explain it thus. Some two or three hundred years ago, Sir Robert of the Nant, one of Sir Richard Bulkeley’s ancestors, had a son and heir who was extravagantand wild. He married a gipsy, and they had children born to them; but, as the family regarded this marriage as a disgrace to their ancient stem, it is said that the father, the next time the vagabonds came round, gave a large sum of money to the father of the girl for taking her away with him. This having been done, the rumour was spread abroad that it was one of the fairies the youth had married, and that she had gone with him to catch a pony, when he threw the bridle at the beast to prevent it passing, and the iron of the bridle touched the wife; then that she at once disappeared, as the fairies always do so when touched with iron. However, the two children were put out to nurse, and the one of them, who was a girl, was brought up at Plas y Pennant, and her name wasPelisha7; her descendants remain to this day in the Nant, and are called Bellis, who are believed there, to this day, to be derived from theTylwyth Teg. Nothing offends them more than to be reminded of this.’Mr. R. I. Jones goes on to relate another tale as follows:—Dywedir fod ỻe a elwir yr Hafod Rugog mewn cwm anial yn y mynyđ ỻe y byđai y Tylwyth Teg yn arferol a mynychu; ac y byđent yn trwblio’r hen wraig am fenthyg rhywbeth neu gilyđ. Dywedođ hithau, ‘Cewch os caniatewch đau beth cyntaf—i’r peth cyntaf y cyffyrđaf ag ef wrth y drws dorri, a’r peth cyntaf y rhof fy ỻaw arno yn y ty estyn hanner ỻath.’ Yr oeđ carreg afael, fel ei gelwir, yn y mur wrth y drws ar ei fforđ, ac yr oeđ ganđi đefnyđ syrcyn gwlanen yn rhy fyr o hanner ỻath. Ond yn anffodus wrth đod a’i chaweỻad mawn i’r ty bu agos iđi a syrthio: rhoes ei ỻaw ar ben ei chlun i ymarbed a thorođ honno, a chan faint y boen cyffyrđođ yny ty a’i thrwyn yr hwn a estynnođ hanner ỻath.‘It is said that there was a place called Hafod Rugog in a wild hollow among the mountains, where the fair family were in the habit of resorting, and that they used to trouble the old woman of Hafod for the loan of one thing and another. So she said, one day, “You shall have the loan if you will grant me two first things—that the first thing I touch at the door break, and that the first thing I put my hand on in the house be lengthened half a yard.” There was a grip stone (carreg afael), as it is called, in the wall near the door, which was in her way, and she had in the house a piece of flannel for a jerkin which was half a yard too short. But, unfortunately, as she came, with her kreel full of turf on her back, to the house, she nearly fell down: she put her hand, in order to save herself, to her knee-joint, which then broke; and, owing to the pain, when she had got into the house, she touched her nose with her hand, when her nose grew half a yard longer.’Mr. Jones went on to notice how the old folks used to believe that the fairies were wont to appear in the marshes near Cweỻyn Lake, not far from Rhyd-Đu, to sing and dance, and that it was considered dangerous to approach them on those occasions lest one should be fascinated. As to the above-mentioned flannel and stone a folklorist asks me, why the old woman did not definitely mention them and say exactly what she wanted. The question is worth asking: I cannot answer it, but I mention it in the hope that somebody else will.

I.The best living authority I have found on the folklore of Beđgelert, Drws y Coed, and the surrounding district, is Mr. William Jones, of Ỻangoỻen. He has written a good deal on the subject in theBrython, and in essays intended for competition at various literary meetings in Wales. I had the loan from him of one such essay, and I have referred to theBrython; and I have also had from Mr. Jones a number of letters, most of which contain some additional information. In harmony, moreover, with my usual practice, I have asked Mr. Jones to give me a little of his own history. This he has been kind enough to do; and, as I have so far followed no particular order in these jottings, I shall now give the reader the substance of his letters in English, as I am anxious that no item should be lost or left inaccessible to English students of folklore. What is unintelligible to me may not be so to those who have made a serious study of the subject. Mr. Jones’ words are in substance to the following effect:—‘I was bred and born in the parish of Beđgelert,one of the most rustic neighbourhoods and least subject to change in the whole country. Some of the old Welsh customs remained within my memory, in spite of the adverse influence of the Calvinistic Reformation, as it is termed, and I have myself witnessed several Knitting Nights and Nuptial Feasts (Neithiorau), which, be it noticed, are not to be confounded with weddings, as they were feasts which followed the weddings, at the interval of a week. At these gatherings song and story formed an element of prime importance in the entertainment at a time when the Reformation alluded to had already blown the blast of extinction on the Merry Nights (Noswyliau Ỻawen) and Saints’ Fêtes1(Gwyliau Mabsant) before the days of my youth, though many of my aged acquaintances remembered them well, and retained a vivid recollection of scores of the amusing tales which used to be related for the best at the last mentioned long-night meetings. I have heard not a few of them reproduced by men of that generation. As an example of the old-fashioned habits of the people of Beđgelert in my early days, I may mention the way in which wives and children used to be named. The custom was that the wife never took her husband’s family name, but retained the one she had as a spinster. Thus my grandmother on my mother’s side was called Ellen Hughes, daughter to Hugh Williams,of Gwastad Annas. The name of her husband, my grandfather, was William Prichard [=W. ab Rhisiart, or Richard’s son], son to Richard William, of the Efail Newyđ. The name of their eldest son, my uncle (brother to my mother), was Hugh Hughes, and the second son’s name was Richard William. The mother had the privilege of naming her first-born after her own family in case it was a boy; but if it happened to be a girl, she took her name from the father’s family, for which reason my mother’s maiden name was Catharine Williams. This remained her name to the day of her death: and the old people at Beđgelert persisted in calling me, so long as I was at home, William Prichard, after my grandfather, as I was my mother’s eldest child.‘Most of the tales I have collected,’ says Mr. Jones, ‘relate to the parishes of Beđgelert and Dolwyđelen. My kindred have lived for generations in those two parishes, and they are very numerous: in fact, it used to be said that the people of Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert were all cousins. They were mostly small farmers, and jealous of all strangers, so that they married almost without exception from the one parish into the other. This intermixture helped to carry the tales of the one parish to the other, and to perpetuate them on the hearths of their homes from generation to generation, until they were swept away by another influence in this century. Many of my ancestors seem to have been very fond of stories, poetry, and singing, and I have been told that some of them were very skilled in these things. So also, in the case of my parents, the memory of the past had a great charm for them on both sides; and when the relatives from Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert met in either parish, there used to be no end to the recounting of pedigrees and the repeating of tales forthe best. By listening to them, I had been filled with desire to become an adept in pedigrees and legends. My parents used to let me go every evening to the house of my grandfather, William ab Rhisiart, the clerk, to listen to tales, and to hear edifying books read. My grandfather was a reader “without his rival,” and “he used to beat the parson hollow.” Many people used to meet at Pen y Bont in the evenings to converse together, and the stories of some of them were now and then exceedingly eloquent. Of course, I listened with eager ears and open mouth, in order, if I heard anything new, to be able to repeat it to my mother. She, unwilling to let herself be beaten, would probably relate another like it, which she had heard from her mother, her grandmother, or her old aunt of Gwastad Annas, who was a fairly good verse-wright of the homely kind. Then my father, if he did not happen to be busy with his music-book, would also give us a tale which he had heard from his grandmother or grandfather, the old John Jones, of Tyn Ỻan Dolwyđelen, or somebody else would do so. That is one source from which I got my knowledge of folklore; but this ceased when we moved from Beđgelert to Carnarvon in the year 1841. My grandfather died in 1844, aged seventy-eight.‘Besides those,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘who used to come to my grandfather’s house and to his workshop to relate stories, the blacksmith’s shop used to be, especially on a rainy day, a capital place for a story, and many a time did I lurk there instead of going to school, in order to hear old William Dafyđ, the sawyer, who, peace be to his ashes! drank many a hornful from theBig Quartwithout ever breaking down, and old Ifan Owen, the fisherman, tearing away for the best at their yarns, sometimes a tissue of lies and sometimes truth. The former was funny, and a great wag, up to all kindsof tricks. He made everybody laugh, whereas the latter would preserve the gravity of a saint, however lying might be the tale which he related. Ifan Owen’s best stories were about the Water Spirit, or, as he called it,Ỻamhigyn y Dwr, “the Water Leaper.” He had not himself seen theỺamhigyn, but his father had seen it “hundreds of times.” Many an evening it had prevented him from catching a single fish in Ỻyn Gwynan, and, when the fisherman got on this theme, his eloquence was apt to become highly polysyllabic in its adjectives. Once in particular, when he had been angling for hours towards the close of the day, without catching anything, he found that something took the fly clean off the hook each time he cast it. After moving from one spot to another on the lake, he fished opposite the Benlan Wen, when something gave his line a frightful pull, “and, by the gallows, I gave another pull,” the fisherman used to say, “with all the force of my arm: out it came, and up it went off the hook, whilst I turned round to see, as it dashed so against the cliff of Benlan that it blazed like a lightning.” He used to add, “If that was not theỺamhigyn, it must have been the very devil himself.” That cliff must be two hundred yards at least from the shore. As to his father, he had seen the Water Spirit many times, and he had also been fishing in the Ỻyn Glâs or Ffynnon Lâs, once upon a time, when he hooked a wonderful and fearful monster: it was not like a fish, but rather resembled a toad, except that it had a tail and wings instead of legs. He pulled it easily enough towards the shore, but, as its head was coming out of the water, it gave a terrible shriek that was enough to split the fisherman’s bones to the marrow, and, had there not been a friend standing by, he would have fallen headlong into the lake, and been possibly dragged like a sheep intothe depth; for there is a tradition that if a sheep got into the Ỻyn Glâs, it could not be got out again, as something would at once drag it to the bottom. This used to be the belief of the shepherds of Cwm Dyli, within my memory, and they acted on it in never letting their dogs go after the sheep in the neighbourhood of this lake. These two funny fellows, William Dafyđ and Ifan Owen, died long ago, without leaving any of their descendants blessed with as much as the faintest gossamer thread of the story-teller’s mantle. The former, if he had been still living, would now be no less than 129 years of age, and the latter about 120.’Mr. Jones proceeds to say that he had stories from sources besides those mentioned, namely, from Lowri Robart, wife of Rhisiart Edwart, the ‘Old Guide’; from his old aunt of Gwastad Annas; from William Wmffra, husband to his grandmother’s sister; from his grandmother, who was a native of Dolwyđelen, but had been brought up at Pwỻgwernog, in Nanmor; from her sister; and from Gruffuđ Prisiart, of Nanmor, afterwards of Glan Colwyn, who gave him the legend of Owen Lawgoch of which I shall have something to say later, and the story of the bogie of Pen Pwll Coch, which I do not know. ‘But the chief story-teller of his time at Beđgelert,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘was Twm Ifan Siams (pronounced Si̯ăms or Shăms), brother, I believe, to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of the Penrhyn, who was a bard and pedigree man. Twm lived at Nanmor, but I know not what his vocation was; his relatives, however, were small farmers, carpenters, and masons. It is not improbable that he was also an artisan, as he was conversant with numbers, magnitude, and letters, and left behind him a volume forming a pedigree book known at Nanmor as theBarcud Mawr, or “Great Kite,” as Gruffuđ Prisiart told me. The latter had been reading it manya time in order to know the origin of somebody or other. All I can remember of this character is that he was very old—over 90—and that he went from house to house in his old age to relate tales and recount pedigrees: great was the welcome he had from everybody everywhere. I remember, also, that he was small of stature, nimble, witty, exceedingly amusing, and always ready with his say on every subject. He was in the habit of calling on my grandfather in his rambles, and very cordial was the reception which my parents always gave him on account of his tales and his knowledge of pedigrees. The story of the afanc, as given in my collection, is from his mouth. You will observe how little difference there is between his version2and that known to Edward Ỻwyd in the year 1695. I had related this story to a friend of mine at Portmadoc, who was grandson or great-grandson to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of Penrhyn, in 1858, when he called my attention to the same story in theCambrian Journalfrom the correspondence of Edward Ỻwyd. I was surprised at the similarity between the two versions, and I went to Beđgelert to Gruffuđ Rhisiart, who was related to Twm Siôn Siams. I read the story to him, and I found that he had heard it related by his uncle just as it was by me, and as given in theCambrian Journal. Twm Ifan Siams had funny stories about the tricks ofGwrach y Rhibyn, theBodach3Glas, and theBwbach Ỻwyd, which he localized in Nanmor and Ỻanfrothen; he had, also, a very eloquent tale about the courtship between a sailor from Moel y Gest, near Portmadoc, and a mermaid, of which I retain a fairlygood recollection. I believe Twm died in the year 1835–6, aged about ninety-five.’So far, I have merely translated Mr. Jones’ account of himself and his authorities as given me in the letter I have already referred to, dated in June of last year, 1881. I would now add the substance of his general remarks about the fairies, as he had heard them described, and as he expressed himself in his essay for the competition on folklore at the Carnarvon Eisteđfod of 1880:—The traditions, he says, respecting theTylwyth Tegvary according to the situation of the districts with which they are connected, and many more such traditions continue to be remembered among the inhabitants of the mountains than by those of the more level country. In some places theTylwyth Tegare described as a small folk of a thieving nature, living in summer among the fern bushes in the mountains, and in winter in the heather and gorse. These were wont to frequent the fairs and to steal money from the farmers’ pockets, where they placed in its stead their own fairy money, which looked like the coin of the realm, but when it was paid for anything bought it would vanish in the pockets of the seller. In other districts the fairies were described as a little bigger and stronger folk; but these latter were also of a thieving disposition. They would lurk around people’s houses, looking for an opportunity to steal butter and cheese from the dairies, and they skulked about the cow-yards, in order to milk the cows and the goats, which they did so thoroughly that many a morning there was not a drop of milk to be had. The principal mischief, however, which those used to do, was to carry away unbaptized infants, and place in their stead their own wretched and peevish offspring. They were said to live in hidden caves in the mountains, and he had heard one old man asserting his firmbelief that it was beneath Moel Eilio, also called Moel Eilian, a mountain lying between Ỻanberis and Cweỻyn, theTylwyth Tegof Nant y Bettws lived, whom he had seen many a time when he was a lad; and, if any one came across the mouth of their cave, he thought that he would find there a wonderful amount of wealth, ‘for they were thieves without their like.’ There is still another species ofTylwyth Teg, very unlike the foregoing ones in their nature and habits. Not only was this last kind far more beautiful and comely than the others, but they were honest and good towards mortals. Their whole nature was replete with joy and fun, nor were they ever beheld hardly, except engaged in some merry-making or other. They might be seen on bright moonlight nights at it, singing and carolling playfully on the fair meadows and the green slopes, at other times dancing lightly on the tops of the rushes in the valleys. They were also wont to be seen hunting in full force on the backs of their grey horses; for this kind were rich, and kept horses and servants. Though it used to be said that they were spiritual and immortal beings, still they ate and drank like human beings: they married and had children. They were also remarkable for their cleanliness, and they were wont to reward neat maid-servants and hospitable wives. So housewives used to exhort their maids to clean their houses thoroughly every night before going to bed, saying that if theTylwyth Teghappened to enter, they would be sure to leave money for them somewhere; but they were to tell no one in case they found any, lest theTylwythshould be offended and come no more. The mistresses also used to order a tinful of water to be placed at the foot of the stairs, a clean cloth on the table, with bread and its accompaniments (bara ac enỻyn) placed on it, so that, if theTylwythcame in to eat, the maids shouldhave their recompense on the hob as well as unstinted praise for keeping the house clean, or, as Mr. Jones has it in a couplet from Goronwy Owen’sCywyđ y Cynghorfynt—Cael eu rhent ar y pentan,A ỻwyr glod o bai ỻawr glân.Finding the fairies’ pay on the hob,With full credit for a clean floor.Thus, whether the fairies came or not to pay a visit to them during their sleep, the house would be clean by the morning, and the table ready set for breakfast. It appears that the places most frequently resorted to by this species were rushy combes surrounded by smooth hills with round tops, also the banks of rivers and the borders of lakes; but they were seldom seen at any time near rocks or cliffs. So more tales about them are found in districts of the former description than anywhere else, and among them may be mentioned Penmachno, Dolwyđelan, the sides of Moel Siabod, Ỻandegái Mountain, and from there to Ỻanberis, to Nantỻe Lakes, to Moel Tryfan4and Nant y Bettws, the upper portion of the parish of Beđgelert from Drws y Coed to the Pennant, and the district beginning from there and including the level part of Eifion, on towards Celynnog Fawr. I have very little doubt that there are many traditions about them in the neighbourhood of the Eifl and in Ỻeyn; I know but little, however, about these last. This kind of fairies was said to live underground, and the way to their country lay under hollow banks that overhung the deepest parts of the lakes, or the deepest pools in the rivers, so that mortals could not follow them further than the water, should they try to go after them. They used to come out in broad daylight,two or three together, and now and then a shepherd, so the saying went, used to talk and chat with them. Sometimes, moreover, he fell over head and ears in love with their damsels, but they did not readily allow a mortal to touch them. The time they were to be seen in their greatest glee was at night when the moon was full, when they celebrated a merry night (noswaith lawen). At midnight to the minute, they might be seen rising out of the ground in every combe and valley; then, joining hands, they would form into circles, and begin to sing and dance with might and main until the cock crew, when they would vanish. Many used to go to look at them on those nights, but it was dangerous to go too near them, lest they should lure the spectator into their circle; for if that happened, they would throw a charm over him, which would make him invisible to his companions, and he would be detained by the fairies as long as he lived. At times some people went too near to them, and got snatched in; and at other times a love-inspired youth, fascinated by the charms of one of their damsels, rushed in foolhardily to try to seize one of them, and became instantly surrounded and concealed from sight. If he could be got out before the cock crew he would be no worse; but once the fairies disappeared without his having been released, he would never more be seen in the land of the living. The way to get the captured man out was to take a long stick of mountain ash (pren criafol), which two or more strong men had to hold with one of its ends in the middle of the circle, so that when the man came round in his turn in the dance he might take hold of it, for he is there bodily though not visible, so that he cannot go past without coming across the stick. Then the others pull him out, for the fairies, no more than any other spirit, dare touch the mountain ash.We now proceed to give some of Mr. Jones’ legends. The first is one which he published in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 70, whence the following free translation is made of it:—‘In the north-west corner of the parish of Beđgelert there is a place which used to be called by the old inhabitants the Land of the Fairies, and it reaches from Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ along the slope of the mountain of Drws y Coed as far as Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The old people of former times used to find much pleasure and amusement in this district in listening every moonlight night to the charming music of the fair family, and in looking at their dancing and their mirthful sports. Once on a time, a long while ago, there lived at upper Drws y Coed a youth, who was joyous and active, brave and determined of heart. This young man amused himself every night by looking on and listening to them. One night they had come to a field near the house, near the shore of Ỻyn y Dywarchen, to pass a merry night. He went, as usual, to look at them, when his glances at once fell on one of the ladies, who possessed such beauty as he had never seen in a human being. Her appearance was like that of alabaster; her voice was as agreeable as the nightingale’s, and as unruffled as the zephyr in a flower-garden at the noon of a long summer’s day; and her gait was pretty and aristocratic; her feet moved in the dance as lightly on the grass as the rays of the sun had a few hours before on the lake hard by. He fell in love with her over head and ears, and in the strength of that passion—for what is stronger than love!—he rushed, when the bustle was at its height, into the midst of the fair crowd, and snatched the graceful damsel in his arms, and ran instantly with her to the house. When the fair family saw the violence used by a mortal, they broke up the dance and ran after hertowards the house; but, when they arrived, the door had been bolted with iron, wherefore they could not get near her or touch her in any way; and the damsel had been placed securely in a chamber. The youth, having her now under his roof, as is the saying, endeavoured, with all his talent, to win her affection and to induce her to wed. But at first she would on no account hear of it; on seeing his persistence, however, and on finding that he would not let her go to return to her people, she consented to be his servant if he could find out her name; but she would not be married to him. As he thought that was not impossible, he half agreed to the condition; but, after bothering his head with all the names known in that neighbourhood, he found himself no nearer his point, though he was not willing to give up the search hurriedly. One night, as he was going home from Carnarvon market, he saw a number of the fair folks in a turbary not far from his path. They seemed to him to be engaged in an important deliberation, and it struck him that they were planning how to recover their abducted sister. He thought, moreover, that if he could secretly get within hearing, he might possibly find her name out. On looking carefully around, he saw that a ditch ran through the turbary and passed near the spot where they stood. So he made his way round to the ditch, and crept, on all fours, along it until he was within hearing of the family. After listening a little, he found that their deliberation was as to the fate of the lady he had carried away, and he heard one of them crying, piteously, “O Penelop, O Penelop, my sister, why didst thou run away with a mortal!” “Penelop,” said the young man to himself, “that must be the name of my beloved: that is enough.” At once he began to creep back quietly, and he returned home safely without having been seen by the fairies.When he got into the house, he called out to the girl, saying, “Penelop, my beloved one, come here!” and she came forward and asked, in astonishment, “O mortal, who has betrayed my name to thee?” Then, lifting up her tiny folded hands, she exclaimed, “Alas, my fate, my fate!” But she grew contented with her fate, and took to her work in earnest. Everything in the house and on the farm prospered under her charge. There was no better or cleanlier housewife in the neighbourhood around, or one that was more provident than she. The young man, however, was not satisfied that she should be a servant to him, and, after he had long and persistently sought it, she consented to be married, on the one condition, that, if ever he should touch her with iron, she would be free to leave him and return to her family. He agreed to that condition, since he believed that such a thing would never happen at his hands. So they were married, and lived several years happily and comfortably together. Two children were born to them, a boy and a girl, the picture of their mother and the idols of their father. But one morning, when the husband wanted to go to the fair at Carnarvon, he went out to catch a filly that was grazing in the field by the house; but for the life of him he could not catch her, and he called to his wife to come to assist him. She came without delay, and they managed to drive the filly to a secure corner, as they thought; but, as the man approached to catch her, she rushed past him. In his excitement, he threw the bridle after her; but, who should be running in the direction of it, but his wife! The iron bit struck her on the cheek, and she vanished out of sight on the spot. Her husband never saw her any more; but one cold frosty night, a long time after this event, he was awakened from his sleep by somebody rubbing the glass of his window, and, after he had givena response, he recognized the gentle and tender voice of his wife saying to him:—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.It is said that the descendants of this family still continue in these neighbourhoods, and that they are easy to be recognized by their light and fair complexion. A similar story is related of the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, in Ỻanfihangel y Pennant, and it used to be said that most of the inhabitants of that neighbourhood were formerly of a light complexion. I have often heard old people saying, that it was only necessary, within their memory, to point out in the fair at Penmorfa any one as being of the breed of theTylwyth, to cause plenty of fighting that day at least.’The reader may compare with this tale the following, for which I have to thank Mr. Samuel Rhys Williams, whose words I give, followed by a translation:—Yr oeđ gwr ieuanc o gymydogaeth Drws y Coed yn dychwelyd adref o Beđgelert ar noswaith loergan ỻeuad; pan ar gyfer Ỻyn y Gader gwelai nifer o’r boneđigesau a elwir y Tylwyth Teg yn myned trwy eu chwareuon nosawl. Swynwyd y ỻanc yn y fan gan brydferthwch y rhianod hyn, ac yn neiỻduol un o honynt. Coỻođ y ỻywodraeth arno ei hunan i’r fath rađau fel y penderfynođ neidio i’r cylch a dwyn yn ysbail iđo yr hon oeđ wedi myned a’i galon mor ỻwyr. Cyflawnođ ei fwriad a dygođ y foneđiges gydag ef adref. Bu yn wraig iđo, a ganwyd plant iđynt. Yn đamweiniol, tra yn cyflawni rhyw orchwyl, digwyđođ iđo ei tharo a haiarn ac ar amrantiad diflannođ ei anwylyd o’i olwg ac nis gwelođ hi mwyach, ond đarfod iđi đyfod at ffenestr ei ystafeỻ wely un noswaith ar ol hyn a’i annog i fod yn dirion wrth y plant a’i bod hi yn aros gerỻaw y tyyn Ỻyny Dywarchen. Y mae y trađodiad hefyd yn ein hysbysu đarfod i’r gwr hwn symud i fyw o Đrws y Coed i Ystrad Betws Garmon.‘A young man, from the neighbourhood of Drws y Coed, was returning home one bright moonlight night, from Beđgelert; when he came opposite the lake called Ỻyn y Gader, he saw a number of the ladies known as theTylwyth Teggoing through their nightly frolics. The youth was charmed at once by the beauty of these ladies, and especially by one of them. He so far lost his control over himself, that he resolved to leap into the circle and carry away as his spoil the one who had so completely robbed him of his heart. He accomplished his intention, and carried the lady home with him. She became his wife, and children were born to them. Accidentally, while at some work or other, it happened to him to strike her with iron, and, in the twinkling of an eye, his beloved one disappeared from his sight. He saw her no more, except that she came to his bedroom window one night afterwards, and told him to be tender to the children, and that she was staying, near the house, in the lake called Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The tradition also informs us that this man moved from Drws y Coed to live at Ystrad near Bettws Garmon.’The name Ỻyn y Dywarchen, I may add, means the Lake of the Sod or Turf: it is the one with the floating island, described thus by Giraldus, ii. 9 (p. 135):—Alter enim insulam habet erraticam, vi ventorum impellentium ad oppositas plerumque lacus partes errabundam. Hic armenta pascentia nonnunquam pastores ad longinquas subito partes translata mirantur.‘For one of the two lakes holds a wandering island, which strays mostly with the force of the winds impelling it to the opposite parts of the lake. Sometimes cattle grazing on it are,to the surprise of the shepherds, suddenly carried across to the more distant parts.’ Sheep are known to get on the floating islet, and it is still believed to float them away from the shore. Mr. S. Rhys Williams, it will be noticed, has given the substance of the legend rather than the story itself. I now proceed to translate the same tale as given in Welsh inCymru Fu(pp. 474–7 of the edition published by Messrs. Hughes and Son, Wrexham), in a very different dress—it is from Glasynys’ pen, and, as might be expected, decked out with all the literary adornments in which he delighted. The language he used was his own, but there is no reason to think that he invented any of the incidents:—‘The farmer of Drws y Coed’s son was one misty day engaged as a shepherd on the side of the mountain, a little below Cwm Marchnad, and, as he crossed a rushy flat, he saw a wonderfully handsome little woman standing under a clump of rushes. Her yellow and curly hair hung down in ringed locks, and her eyes were as blue as the clear sky, while her forehead was as white as the wavy face of a snowdrift that has nestled on the side of Snowdon only a single night. Her two plump cheeks were each like a red rose, and her pretty-lipped mouth might make an angel eager to kiss her. The youth approached her, filled with love for her, and, with delicacy and affection, asked her if he might converse with her. She smiled kindly, and reaching out her hand, said to him, “Idol of my hopes, thou hast come at last!” They began to associate secretly, and to meet one another daily here and there on the moors around the banks of Ỻyn y Gader; at last, their love had waxed so strong that the young man could not be at peace either day or night, as he was always thinking of Bella or humming to himself a verse of poetry about her charms. The yellow-haired youth was now andthen lost for a long while, and nobody could divine his history. His acquaintances believed that he had been fascinated: at last the secret was found out. There were about Ỻyn y Dywarchen shady and concealing copses: it was there he was wont to go, and the she-elf would always be there awaiting him, and it was therefore that the place where they used to meet got to be calledỺwyn y Forwyn, the Maiden’s Grove. After fondly loving for a long time, it was resolved to wed; but it was needful to get the leave of the damsel’s father. One moonlight night it was agreed to meet in the wood, and the appointment was duly kept by the young man, but there was no sign of the subterranean folks coming, until the moon disappeared behind the Garn. Then the two arrived, and the old man at once proceeded to say to the suitor: “Thou shalt have my daughter on the condition that thou do not strike her with iron. If thou ever touch her with iron, she will no longer be thine, but shall return to her own.” The man consented readily, and great was his joy. They were betrothed, and seldom was a handsomer pair seen at the altar. It was rumoured that a vast sum of money as dowry had arrived with the pretty lady at Drws y Coed on the evening of her nuptials. Soon after, the mountain shepherd of Cwm Marchnad passed for a very rich and influential man. In the course of time they had children, and no happier people ever lived together than their parents. Everything went on regularly and prosperously for a number of years: they became exceedingly wealthy, but the sweet is not to be had without the bitter. One day they both went out on horseback, and they happened to go near Ỻyn y Gader, when the wife’s horse got into a bog and sank to his belly. After the husband had got Bella off his back, he succeeded with much trouble in getting the horse out, and thenhe let him go. Then he lifted her on the back of his own, but, unfortunately, in trying quickly to place her foot in the stirrup, the iron part of the same slipped, and struck her—or, rather, it touched her at the knee-joint. Before they had made good half their way home, several of the diminutiveTylwythbegan to appear to them, and the sound of sweet singing was heard on the side of the hill. Before the husband reached Drws y Coed his wife had left him, and it is supposed that she fled to Ỻwyn y Forwyn, and thence to the world below to Faery. She left her dear little ones to the care of her beloved, and no more came near them. Some say, however, that she sometimes contrived to see her beloved one in the following manner. As the law of her country did not permit her to frequent the earth with an earthly being, she and her mother invented a way of avoiding the one thing and of securing the other. A great piece of sod was set to float on the surface of the lake, and on that she used to be for long hours, freely conversing in tenderness with her consort on shore; by means of that plan they managed to live together until he breathed his last. Their descendants owned Drws y Coed for many generations, and they intermarried and mixed with the people of the district. Moreover, many a fierce fight took place in later times at theGwyl-fabsantat Dolbenmaen or at Penmorfa, because the men of Eifionyđ had a habit of annoying the people of Pennant by calling them Bellisians.’In a note, Glasynys remarks that this tale is located in many districts without much variation, except in the names of the places; this, however, could not apply to the latter part, which suits Ỻyn y Dywarchen alone. With this account of the fairy wife frequenting a lake island to converse with her husband on shore, compare the Irish story of the Children of Lir, who, thoughtransformed into swans, were allowed to retain their power of reasoning and speaking, so that they used to converse from the surface of the water with their friends on the dry land: see Joyce’sOld Celtic Romances, pp. x, 1–36. Now I return to another tale which was sent me by Mr. William Jones: unless I am mistaken it has not hitherto been published; so I give the Welsh together with a free translation of it:—Yr oeđ ystori am fab Braich y Dinas a adrođai y diweđar hybarch Elis Owen o Gefn y Meusyđ yn ỻed debyg i chwedl mab yr Ystrad gan Glasynys, sef iđo hudo un o ferched y Tylwyth Teg i lawr o Foel Hebog, a’i chipio i mewn i’r ty drwy orthrech; ac wedi hynny efe a’i perswadiođ i ymbriodi ag ef ar yr un telerau ag y gwnaeth mab yr Ystrad. Ond clywais hen foneđiges o’r enw Mrs. Roberts, un o ferched yr Isaỻt, oeđ lawer hyn na Mr. Owen, yn ei hadrođ yn wahanol. Yr oeđ yr hen wreigan hon yn credu yn nilysrwyđ y chwedl, oblegid yr oeđ hi ‘yn cofio rhai o’r teulu, waeth be’ đeudo neb.’ Dirwynnai ei hedau yn debyg i hyn:—Yn yr amser gynt—ond o ran hynny pan oeđ hi yn ferch ifanc—yr oeđ ỻawer iawn o Dylwyth Teg yn trigo mewn rhyw ogofau yn y Foel o Gwm Ystradỻyn hyd i flaen y Pennant. Yr oeđ y Tylwyth hwn yn ỻawer iawn harđach na dim a welid mewn un rhan araỻ o’r wlad. Yr oeđynt o ran maint yn fwy o lawer na’r rhai cyffredin, yn lan eu pryd tu hwnt i bawb, eu gwaỻt yn oleu fel ỻin, eu ỻygaid yn loyw leision. Yr oeđynt yn ymđangos mewn rhyw le neu gilyđ yn chwareu, canu ac ymđifyru bob nos deg a goleu; a byđai swn eu canu yn denu y ỻanciau a’r merched ifainc i fyned i’w gweled; ac os byđent yn digwyđ bod o bryd goleu hwy a ymgomient a hwynt, ond ni adawent i un person o liw tywyỻ đod yn agos atynt, eithr cilient ymaith o fforđ y cyfryw un. Yrŵan yr oeđ mab Braich y Dinas yn ỻanc harđ, heini, bywiog ac o bryd glan, goleu a serchiadol. Yr oeđhwn yn hoff iawn o edrych ar y Tylwyth, a byđai yn cael ymgom a rhai o honynt yn aml, ond yn bennaf ag un o’r merched oeđ yn rhagori arnynt oỻ mewn glendid a synwyr; ac o fynych gyfarfod syrthiođ y đau mewn cariad a’u gilyđ, eithr ni fynai hi ymbriodi ag ef, ond ađawođ fyned i’w wasanaeth, a chydunođ i’w gyfarfod yn Mhant—nid wyf yn cofio yr enw i gyd—drannoeth, oblegid nid oeđ wiw iđi geisio myned gydag ef yn ngwyđ y ỻeiỻ. Feỻy drannoeth aeth i fynu i’r Foel, a chyfarfyđođ y rhian ef yn ol ei hađewid, ag aeth gydag ef adref, ac ymgymerođ a’r swyđ o laethwraig, a buan y dechreuođ popeth lwyđo o dan ei ỻaw: yr oeđ yr ymenyn a’r caws yn cynhyđu beunyđ. Hir a thaer y bu’r ỻanc yn ceisio ganđi briodi. A hi a ađawođ, os medrai ef gael aỻan ei henw. Ni wyđai Mrs. Roberts drwy ba ystryw y ỻwyđođ i gael hwnnw, ond hynny a fu, a daeth ef i’r ty un noswaith a galwođ ar ‘Sibi,’ a phan glywođ hi ei henw, hi a aeth i lewygfa; ond pan đaeth ati ei hun, hi a ymfođlonođ i briodi ar yr amod nad oeđ ef i gyffwrđ a hi a haiarn ac nad oeđ boỻt haiarn i fod ar y drws na chlo ychwaith, a hynny a fu: priodwyd hwynt, a buont fyw yn gysurus am lawer o flynyđoeđ, a ganwyd iđynt amryw blant. Y diweđ a fu fel hyn: yr oeđ ef wedi myned un diwrnod i dori baich o frwyn at doi, a tharawođ y cryman yn y baich i fyned adref; fel yr oeđ yn nesu at y gadlas, rhedođ Sibi i’w gyfarfod, a thaflođ ynteu y baich brwyn yn đireidus tu ag ati, a rhag iđo đyfod ar ei thraws ceisiođ ei atal a’i ỻaw, yr hon a gyffyrđođ a’r cryman; a hi a điflannođ o’r golwg yn y fan yn nghysgod y baich brwyn: ni welwyd ac ni chlywyd dim ođiwrthi mwyach.‘There was a story respecting the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, which used to be told by the late respected Mr. Ellis Owen, of Cefn y Meusyđ, somewhat in the same way as that about the Ystrad youth, as told by Glasynys; that is to say, the young man enticed oneof the damsels of the fair family to come down from Moel Hebog, and then he carried her by force into the house, and afterwards persuaded her to become his wife on the same conditions as the heir of Ystrad did. But I have heard an old lady called Mrs. Roberts, who had been brought up at Isaỻt, and who was older than Mr. Owen, relating it differently. This old woman believed in the truth of the story, as “she remembered some of the family, whatever anybody may say.” She used to spin her yarn somewhat as follows:—In old times—but, for the matter of that, when she was a young woman—there were a great many of the fair family living in certain caves in the Foel from CwmStráỻyn5down to the upper part of Pennant. ThisTylwythwas much handsomer than any seen in any other part of the country. In point of stature they were much bigger than the ordinary ones, fair of complexion beyond everybody, with hair that was as light as flax, and eyes that were of a clear blue colour. They showed themselves in one spot or another, engaged in playing, singing, and jollity every light night. The sound of their singing used to draw the lads and the young women to look at them; and, should they be of clear complexion, the fairies would chat with them; but they would let no person of a dark hue come near them: they moved away from such a one. Now the young man of Braich y Dinas was a handsome, vigorous, and lively stripling of fair, clear, and attractive complexion. He was very fond of looking at the fair family, and had a chat with some of them often,but chiefly with one of the damsels, who surpassed all the rest in beauty and good sense. The result of frequently meeting was that they fell in love with one another, but she would not marry him. She promised, however, to go to service to him, and agreed to meet him at Pant y—I have forgotten the rest of the name—the day after, as it would not do for her to go with him while the others happened to be looking on. So he went up the next day to the Foel, and the damsel met him according to her promise, and went with him home, where she took to the duties of a dairymaid. Soon everything began to prosper under her hand; the butter and the cheese were daily growing in quantity. Long and importunately did the youth try to get her to marry him. She promised to do so provided he could find out her name. Mrs. Roberts did not know by what manœuvre he succeeded in discovering it, but it was done, and he came into the house one night and called to “Sibi,” and when she heard her name she fainted away. When, however, she recovered her consciousness, she consented to marry on the condition that he was not to touch her with iron, and that there was not to be a bolt of iron on the door, or a lock either. It was agreed, and they were married; they lived together comfortably many years, and had children born to them. The end came thus: he had gone one day to cut a bundle of rushes for thatching, and planted the reaping-hook in the bundle to go home. As he drew towards the haggard, Sibi ran out to meet him, and he wantonly threw the bundle of rushes towards her, when she, to prevent its hitting her, tried to stop it with her hand, which touched the reaping-hook. She vanished on the spot out of sight behind the bundle of rushes, and nothing more was seen or heard of her.’Mr. Ellis Owen, alluded to above, was a highly respected gentleman, well known in North Wales for his literary and antiquarian tastes. He was born in 1789 at Cefn y Meusyđ near Tremadoc, where he continued to live till the day of his death, which was January 27, 1868. His literary remains, preceded by a short biography, were published in 1877 by Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc; but it contains no fairy tales so far as I have been able to find.A tale which partially reminds one of that given by Dewi Glan Ffrydlas respecting the Corwrion midwife, referred to at p. 63 above, was published by Mr. W. Jones in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 251: freely rendered into English, it runs thus:—‘Once on a time, when a midwife from Nanhwynan had newly got to the Hafođyđ Brithion to pursue her calling, a gentleman came to the door on a fine grey steed and bade her come with him at once. Such was the authority with which he spoke, that the poor midwife durst not refuse to go, however much it was her duty to stay where she was. So she mounted behind him, and off they went, like the flight of a swallow, through Cwmỻan, over the Bwlch, down Nant yr Aran, and over the Gader to Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ, before the poor woman had time even to say Oh! When they reached there, she saw before her a magnificent mansion, splendidly lit up with such lamps as she had never seen before. They entered the court, and a crowd of servants in expensive liveries came to meet them, and she was at once led through the great hall into a bed-chamber, the like of which she had never seen. There the mistress of the house, to whom she had been fetched, was awaiting her. The midwife got through her duties successfully, and stayed there until the lady had completely recovered, nor had she spent any part of herlife so merrily, for there nought but festivity went on day and night: dancing, singing, and endless rejoicing reigned there. But merry as it was, she found that she must go, and the nobleman gave her a large purse, with the order not to open it until she had got into her own house. Then he bade one of his servants escort her the same way that she had come. When she reached home she opened the purse, and, to her great joy, it was full of money: she lived happily on those earnings to the end of her life.’With this ending of the story one should contrast Dewi Glan Ffrydlas’ tale to which I have already alluded; and I may here refer to Mr. Sikes’British Goblins, pp. 86–8, for a tale differing from both Dewi’s and Jones’, in that the fairies are there made to appear as devils to the nurse, who had accidentally used a certain ointment which she was not to place near her own eyes. Instead of being rewarded for her services she was only too glad to be deposited anyhow near her home. ‘But,’ as the story goes on to relate, ‘very many years afterwards, being at a fair, she saw a man stealing something from a stall, and, with one corner of her eye, beheld her old master pushing the man’s elbow. Unthinkingly she said, “How are you, master? how are the children?” He said, “How did you see me?” She answered, “With the corner of my left eye.” From that moment she was blind of her left eye, and lived many years with only her right.’ Such is the end of this tale given by Mr. Sikes.‘But the fair family did not,’ Mr. William Jones goes on to say, ‘always give mortals the means of good living: sometimes they made no little fun of them. Once on a time the Drws y Coed man was going home from Beđgelert Fair, rather merry than sad, along the old road over the Gader, when he saw, on coming nearthe top of the Gader, a fine, handsome house near the road, in which there was a rare merrymaking. He knew perfectly well that there was no such a building anywhere on his way, and it made him think that he had lost his way and gone astray; so he resolved to turn into the house to ask for lodgings, which were given him. At once, when he entered, he took it to be a nuptial feast (neithior) by reason of the jollity, the singing, and the dancing. The house was full of young men, young women, and children, all merry, and exerting themselves to the utmost. The company began to disappear one by one, and he asked if he might go to bed, whereupon he was led to a splendid chamber, where there was a bed of the softest down with snow-white clothes on it. He stripped at once, went into it, and slept quietly enough till the morning. The first thing to come to his mind when he lay half asleep, half awake, was the jollity of the night before, and the fact of his sleeping in a splendid chamber in the strange house. He opened his eyes to survey his bedroom, but it was too wide: he was sleeping on the bare swamp, with a clump of rushes as his pillow, and the blue sky as his coverlet.’Mr. Jones mentions that, within his memory, there were still people in his neighbourhood who believed that the fairies stole unbaptized children and placed their own in their stead: he gives the following story about the farmer’s wife of Dyffryn Mymbyr, near Capel Curig, and her infant:—Yr oeđ y wraig hon wedi rhođi genedigaeth i blentyn iach a heinif yn nechreu y cynheuaf ryw haf blin a thymhestlog: ac o herwyđ fod y tyđyn getyn o fforđ ođiwrth lan na chapel, a’r hin mor hynod o lawiog, esgeuluswyd bedyđio y plentyn yn yr amser arferol, sef cyn ei fod yn wyth niwrnod oed. Ryw điwrnod teg ynnghanol y cynheuaf blin aeth y wraig aỻan i’r maes gyda’r rhelyw o’r teulu i geisio achub y cynheuaf, a gadawođ y baban yn cysgu yn ei gryd o dan ofal ei nain, yr hon oeđ hen a methiantus, ac yn anaỻuog i fyned lawer o gwmpas. Syrthiođ yr hen wreigan i gysgu, a thra yr oeđ hi feỻy, daeth y Tylwyth i fewn, a chymerasant y baban o’r cryd, a dodasant un araỻ yn ei le. Yn mhen ennyd dechreuođ hwn erain a chwyno nes deffro y nain, ac aeth at y cryd, ỻe y gwelođ gleiriach hen eiđil crebachlyd yn ymstwyrian yn flin. ‘O’r wchw!’ ebai hi, ‘y mae yr hen Dylwyth wedi bod yma;’ ac yn đioed chwythođ yn y corn i alw y fam, yr hon a đaeth yno yn điatreg; a phan glywođ y crio yn y cryd, rhedođ ato, a chodođ y bychan i fynu heb sylwi arno, a hi a’i cofleidiođ, a’i suođ ac a’i swcrođ at ei bronnau, ond nid oeđ dim yn tycio, parhau i nadu yn đidor yr oeđ nes bron a hoỻti ei chalon; ac ni wyđai pa beth i wneud i’w đistewi. O’r diweđ hi a edrychođ arno, a gwelođ nad oeđ yn debyg i’w mhebyn hi, ac aeth yn loes i’w chalon: edrychođ arno drachefn, ond po fwyaf yr edrychai arno, hyỻaf yn y byd oeđ hi yn ei weled; anfonođ am ei gwr o’r cae, a gyrrođ ef i ymholi am wr cyfarwyđ yn rhywle er mwyn cael ei gynghor; ac ar ol hir holi dywedođ rhywun wrtho fod person Trawsfynyđ yn gyfarwyđ yn nghyfrinion yr ysprydion; ac efe a aeth ato, ac archođ hwnnw iđo gymeryd rhaw a’i gorchuđio a halen, a thori ỻun croes yn yr halen; yna ei chymeryd i’r ystafeỻ ỻe yr oeđ mab y Tylwyth, ac ar ol agor y ffenestr, ei rhođi ar y tan hyd nes y ỻosgai yr halen; a hwy a wnaethant feỻy, a phan aeth yr halen yn eiriasboeth fe aeth yr erthyl croes ymaith yn anweledig iđynt hwy, ac ar drothwy y drws hwy a gawsant y baban araỻ yn iach a dianaf.‘This woman had given birth to a healthy and vigorous child at the beginning of the harvest, one wretched andinclement summer. As the homestead was a considerable distance from church or chapel, and the weather so very rainy, it was neglected to baptize the child at the usual6time, that is to say, before it was eight days old. One fine day, in the middle of this wretched harvest, the mother went to the field with the rest of the family to try to save the harvest, and left her baby sleeping in its cradle in its grandmother’s charge, who was so aged and decrepit as to be unable to go much about. The old woman fell asleep, and, while she was in that state, theTylwyth Tegcame in and took away the baby, placing another in its stead. Very shortly the latter began to whine and groan, so that the grandmother awoke: she went to the cradle, where she saw a slender, wizened old man moving restlessly and peevishly about. “Alas! alas!” said she, “the oldTylwythhave been here”; and she at once blew in the horn to call the mother home, who came without delay. As she heard the crying in the cradle, she ran towards it, and lifted the little one without looking at him; she hugged him, put him to her breast, and sang lullaby to him, but nothing was of any avail, as he continued, without stopping, to scream enough to break her heart; and she knew not what to do to calm him. At last she looked at him: she saw that he was not like her dear little boy, and her heart was pierced with agony. She looked at him again, and the more she examined him the uglier he seemed to her. She sent for her husband home from the field, and told him to search for a skilled man somewhere or other; and, after a long search, he was told by somebody that the parson of Trawsfynyđ was skilled in the secrets of the spirits;so he went to him. The latter bade him take a shovel and cover it with salt, and make the figure of the cross in the salt; then to take it to the chamber where the fairy child was, and, after taking care to open the window, to place the shovel on the fire until the salt was burnt. This was done, and when the salt had got white hot, the peevish abortion went away, seen of no one, and they found the other baby whole and unscathed at the doorstep.’ Fire was also made use of in Scotland in order to detect a changeling and force him to quit: see the British Association’sReport, 1896, p. 650, where Mr. Gomme refers to Mr. Gregor’sFolk-lore of the North-east of Scotland, pp. 8–9.In answer to a question of mine with regard to gossamer, which is called in North Walesedafeđ gwawn, ‘gwawnyarn,’ Mr. Jones told me in a letter, dated April, 1881, that it used to be calledRhaffau’r Tylwyth Teg, that is to say, the Ropes of the Fair Family, which were associated with the diminutive, mischievous, and wanton kind of fairies who dwelt in marshy and rushy places, or among the fern and the heather. It used to be said that, if a man should lie down and fall asleep in any such a spot, the fairies would come and bind him with their ropes so that he could not move, and that they would then cover him with a sheet made of their ropes, which would make him invisible. This was illustrated by him by the following tale he had heard from his mother:—Clywais fy mam yn adrođ chwedl am fab y Ffriđ, yr hwn wrth đychwelyd adref o ffair Beđgelert yn rhywle ođeutu Pen Cae’r Gors a welođ beth afrifed o’r Tylwyth Bach yn neidio a phrancio ar bennau y grug. Efe a eisteđođ i lawr i edrych arnynt, a daeth hun drosto; ymoỻyngođ i lawr a chysgođ yn drwm. A phan oeđ feỻy, ymosodođ yr hoỻ lu arno a rhwymasant ef mor dyn felna aỻasai symud; yna hwy a’i cuđiasant ef a’r tuđed gwawn fel na aỻai neb ei weled os digwyđai iđo lefain am help. Yr oeđ ei deulu yn ei đisgwyl adref yn gynnar y nos honno, ac wrth ei weled yn oedi yn hwyr, aethant yn anesmwyth am dano ac aethpwyd i’w gyfarfod, eithr ni welent đim ođiwrtho, ac aed gan beỻed a’r pentref, ỻe en hyspyswyd ei fod wedi myned tuag adref yn gynnar gyda gwr Hafod Ruffyđ. Feỻy aed tua’r Hafod i edrych a oeđ yno; ond dywedođ gwr yr Hafod eu bod wedi ymwahanu ar Bont Glan y Gors, pawb tua’i fan ei hun. Yna chwiliwyd yn fanwl bob ochr i’r fforđ ođiyno i’r Ffriđ heb weled dim ođiwrtho. Buwyd yn chwilio yr hoỻ ardal drwy y dyđ drannoeth ond yn ofer. Fođ bynnag ođeutu yr un amser nos drannoeth daeth y Tylwyth ac a’i rhyđhasant, ac yn fuan efe a đeffrôđ wedi cysgu o hono drwy y nos a’r dyđ blaenorol. Ar ol iđo đeffro ni wyđai amcan daear yn mha le yr oeđ, a chrwydro y bu hyd ochrau y Gader a’r Gors Fawr hyd nes y canođ y ceiliog, pryd yr adnabu yn mha le yr oeđ, sef o fewn ỻai na chwarter miỻtir i’w gartref.‘I have heard my mother relating a tale about the son of the farmer of the Ffriđ, who, while on his way home from Beđgelert Fair, saw, somewhere near Pen Cae’r Gors, an endless number of the diminutive family leaping and capering on the heather tops. He sat him down to look at them, and sleep came over him; he let himself down on the ground, and slept heavily. When he was so, the whole host attacked him, and they bound him so tightly that he could not have stirred; then they covered him with the gossamer sheet, so that nobody could see him in case he called for help. His people expected him home early that evening, and, as they found him delaying till late, they got uneasy about him. They went to meet him, but no trace of him was seen,and they went as far as the village, where they were informed that he had started home in good time with the farmer of Hafod Ruffyđ. So they went to the Hafod to see if he was there; but the farmer told them that they had parted on Glan y Gors Bridge to go to their respective homes. A minute search was then made on both sides of the road from there to the Ffriđ, but without finding any trace of him. They kept searching the whole neighbourhood during the whole of the next day, but in vain. However, about the same time the following night theTylwythcame and liberated him, and he shortly woke up, after sleeping through the previous night and day. When he woke he had no idea where on earth he was; so he wandered about on the slopes of the Gader and near the Gors Fawr until the cock crew, when he found where he was, namely, less than a quarter of a mile from his home.’The late Mr. Owen, of Cefn Meusyđ, has already been alluded to. I have not been able to get at much of the folklore with which he was familiar, but, in reply to some questions of mine, Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc, his biographer, and the publisher of theBrython, so long as it existed, has kindly ransacked his memory. He writes to me in Welsh to the following effect:—‘I will tell you what I heard from Mr. Owen and my mother when I was a lad, about fifty-seven years ago. The former used to say that the people of Pennant in Eifionyđ had a nickname, to wit, that ofBelsiaid y Pennant, “the Bellisians of the Pennant”; that, when he was a boy, if anybody called outBelsiaid y Pennantat the Penmorfa Fair, every man jack of them would come out, and fighting always ensued. The antiquary used to explain it thus. Some two or three hundred years ago, Sir Robert of the Nant, one of Sir Richard Bulkeley’s ancestors, had a son and heir who was extravagantand wild. He married a gipsy, and they had children born to them; but, as the family regarded this marriage as a disgrace to their ancient stem, it is said that the father, the next time the vagabonds came round, gave a large sum of money to the father of the girl for taking her away with him. This having been done, the rumour was spread abroad that it was one of the fairies the youth had married, and that she had gone with him to catch a pony, when he threw the bridle at the beast to prevent it passing, and the iron of the bridle touched the wife; then that she at once disappeared, as the fairies always do so when touched with iron. However, the two children were put out to nurse, and the one of them, who was a girl, was brought up at Plas y Pennant, and her name wasPelisha7; her descendants remain to this day in the Nant, and are called Bellis, who are believed there, to this day, to be derived from theTylwyth Teg. Nothing offends them more than to be reminded of this.’Mr. R. I. Jones goes on to relate another tale as follows:—Dywedir fod ỻe a elwir yr Hafod Rugog mewn cwm anial yn y mynyđ ỻe y byđai y Tylwyth Teg yn arferol a mynychu; ac y byđent yn trwblio’r hen wraig am fenthyg rhywbeth neu gilyđ. Dywedođ hithau, ‘Cewch os caniatewch đau beth cyntaf—i’r peth cyntaf y cyffyrđaf ag ef wrth y drws dorri, a’r peth cyntaf y rhof fy ỻaw arno yn y ty estyn hanner ỻath.’ Yr oeđ carreg afael, fel ei gelwir, yn y mur wrth y drws ar ei fforđ, ac yr oeđ ganđi đefnyđ syrcyn gwlanen yn rhy fyr o hanner ỻath. Ond yn anffodus wrth đod a’i chaweỻad mawn i’r ty bu agos iđi a syrthio: rhoes ei ỻaw ar ben ei chlun i ymarbed a thorođ honno, a chan faint y boen cyffyrđođ yny ty a’i thrwyn yr hwn a estynnođ hanner ỻath.‘It is said that there was a place called Hafod Rugog in a wild hollow among the mountains, where the fair family were in the habit of resorting, and that they used to trouble the old woman of Hafod for the loan of one thing and another. So she said, one day, “You shall have the loan if you will grant me two first things—that the first thing I touch at the door break, and that the first thing I put my hand on in the house be lengthened half a yard.” There was a grip stone (carreg afael), as it is called, in the wall near the door, which was in her way, and she had in the house a piece of flannel for a jerkin which was half a yard too short. But, unfortunately, as she came, with her kreel full of turf on her back, to the house, she nearly fell down: she put her hand, in order to save herself, to her knee-joint, which then broke; and, owing to the pain, when she had got into the house, she touched her nose with her hand, when her nose grew half a yard longer.’Mr. Jones went on to notice how the old folks used to believe that the fairies were wont to appear in the marshes near Cweỻyn Lake, not far from Rhyd-Đu, to sing and dance, and that it was considered dangerous to approach them on those occasions lest one should be fascinated. As to the above-mentioned flannel and stone a folklorist asks me, why the old woman did not definitely mention them and say exactly what she wanted. The question is worth asking: I cannot answer it, but I mention it in the hope that somebody else will.

I.

The best living authority I have found on the folklore of Beđgelert, Drws y Coed, and the surrounding district, is Mr. William Jones, of Ỻangoỻen. He has written a good deal on the subject in theBrython, and in essays intended for competition at various literary meetings in Wales. I had the loan from him of one such essay, and I have referred to theBrython; and I have also had from Mr. Jones a number of letters, most of which contain some additional information. In harmony, moreover, with my usual practice, I have asked Mr. Jones to give me a little of his own history. This he has been kind enough to do; and, as I have so far followed no particular order in these jottings, I shall now give the reader the substance of his letters in English, as I am anxious that no item should be lost or left inaccessible to English students of folklore. What is unintelligible to me may not be so to those who have made a serious study of the subject. Mr. Jones’ words are in substance to the following effect:—‘I was bred and born in the parish of Beđgelert,one of the most rustic neighbourhoods and least subject to change in the whole country. Some of the old Welsh customs remained within my memory, in spite of the adverse influence of the Calvinistic Reformation, as it is termed, and I have myself witnessed several Knitting Nights and Nuptial Feasts (Neithiorau), which, be it noticed, are not to be confounded with weddings, as they were feasts which followed the weddings, at the interval of a week. At these gatherings song and story formed an element of prime importance in the entertainment at a time when the Reformation alluded to had already blown the blast of extinction on the Merry Nights (Noswyliau Ỻawen) and Saints’ Fêtes1(Gwyliau Mabsant) before the days of my youth, though many of my aged acquaintances remembered them well, and retained a vivid recollection of scores of the amusing tales which used to be related for the best at the last mentioned long-night meetings. I have heard not a few of them reproduced by men of that generation. As an example of the old-fashioned habits of the people of Beđgelert in my early days, I may mention the way in which wives and children used to be named. The custom was that the wife never took her husband’s family name, but retained the one she had as a spinster. Thus my grandmother on my mother’s side was called Ellen Hughes, daughter to Hugh Williams,of Gwastad Annas. The name of her husband, my grandfather, was William Prichard [=W. ab Rhisiart, or Richard’s son], son to Richard William, of the Efail Newyđ. The name of their eldest son, my uncle (brother to my mother), was Hugh Hughes, and the second son’s name was Richard William. The mother had the privilege of naming her first-born after her own family in case it was a boy; but if it happened to be a girl, she took her name from the father’s family, for which reason my mother’s maiden name was Catharine Williams. This remained her name to the day of her death: and the old people at Beđgelert persisted in calling me, so long as I was at home, William Prichard, after my grandfather, as I was my mother’s eldest child.‘Most of the tales I have collected,’ says Mr. Jones, ‘relate to the parishes of Beđgelert and Dolwyđelen. My kindred have lived for generations in those two parishes, and they are very numerous: in fact, it used to be said that the people of Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert were all cousins. They were mostly small farmers, and jealous of all strangers, so that they married almost without exception from the one parish into the other. This intermixture helped to carry the tales of the one parish to the other, and to perpetuate them on the hearths of their homes from generation to generation, until they were swept away by another influence in this century. Many of my ancestors seem to have been very fond of stories, poetry, and singing, and I have been told that some of them were very skilled in these things. So also, in the case of my parents, the memory of the past had a great charm for them on both sides; and when the relatives from Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert met in either parish, there used to be no end to the recounting of pedigrees and the repeating of tales forthe best. By listening to them, I had been filled with desire to become an adept in pedigrees and legends. My parents used to let me go every evening to the house of my grandfather, William ab Rhisiart, the clerk, to listen to tales, and to hear edifying books read. My grandfather was a reader “without his rival,” and “he used to beat the parson hollow.” Many people used to meet at Pen y Bont in the evenings to converse together, and the stories of some of them were now and then exceedingly eloquent. Of course, I listened with eager ears and open mouth, in order, if I heard anything new, to be able to repeat it to my mother. She, unwilling to let herself be beaten, would probably relate another like it, which she had heard from her mother, her grandmother, or her old aunt of Gwastad Annas, who was a fairly good verse-wright of the homely kind. Then my father, if he did not happen to be busy with his music-book, would also give us a tale which he had heard from his grandmother or grandfather, the old John Jones, of Tyn Ỻan Dolwyđelen, or somebody else would do so. That is one source from which I got my knowledge of folklore; but this ceased when we moved from Beđgelert to Carnarvon in the year 1841. My grandfather died in 1844, aged seventy-eight.‘Besides those,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘who used to come to my grandfather’s house and to his workshop to relate stories, the blacksmith’s shop used to be, especially on a rainy day, a capital place for a story, and many a time did I lurk there instead of going to school, in order to hear old William Dafyđ, the sawyer, who, peace be to his ashes! drank many a hornful from theBig Quartwithout ever breaking down, and old Ifan Owen, the fisherman, tearing away for the best at their yarns, sometimes a tissue of lies and sometimes truth. The former was funny, and a great wag, up to all kindsof tricks. He made everybody laugh, whereas the latter would preserve the gravity of a saint, however lying might be the tale which he related. Ifan Owen’s best stories were about the Water Spirit, or, as he called it,Ỻamhigyn y Dwr, “the Water Leaper.” He had not himself seen theỺamhigyn, but his father had seen it “hundreds of times.” Many an evening it had prevented him from catching a single fish in Ỻyn Gwynan, and, when the fisherman got on this theme, his eloquence was apt to become highly polysyllabic in its adjectives. Once in particular, when he had been angling for hours towards the close of the day, without catching anything, he found that something took the fly clean off the hook each time he cast it. After moving from one spot to another on the lake, he fished opposite the Benlan Wen, when something gave his line a frightful pull, “and, by the gallows, I gave another pull,” the fisherman used to say, “with all the force of my arm: out it came, and up it went off the hook, whilst I turned round to see, as it dashed so against the cliff of Benlan that it blazed like a lightning.” He used to add, “If that was not theỺamhigyn, it must have been the very devil himself.” That cliff must be two hundred yards at least from the shore. As to his father, he had seen the Water Spirit many times, and he had also been fishing in the Ỻyn Glâs or Ffynnon Lâs, once upon a time, when he hooked a wonderful and fearful monster: it was not like a fish, but rather resembled a toad, except that it had a tail and wings instead of legs. He pulled it easily enough towards the shore, but, as its head was coming out of the water, it gave a terrible shriek that was enough to split the fisherman’s bones to the marrow, and, had there not been a friend standing by, he would have fallen headlong into the lake, and been possibly dragged like a sheep intothe depth; for there is a tradition that if a sheep got into the Ỻyn Glâs, it could not be got out again, as something would at once drag it to the bottom. This used to be the belief of the shepherds of Cwm Dyli, within my memory, and they acted on it in never letting their dogs go after the sheep in the neighbourhood of this lake. These two funny fellows, William Dafyđ and Ifan Owen, died long ago, without leaving any of their descendants blessed with as much as the faintest gossamer thread of the story-teller’s mantle. The former, if he had been still living, would now be no less than 129 years of age, and the latter about 120.’Mr. Jones proceeds to say that he had stories from sources besides those mentioned, namely, from Lowri Robart, wife of Rhisiart Edwart, the ‘Old Guide’; from his old aunt of Gwastad Annas; from William Wmffra, husband to his grandmother’s sister; from his grandmother, who was a native of Dolwyđelen, but had been brought up at Pwỻgwernog, in Nanmor; from her sister; and from Gruffuđ Prisiart, of Nanmor, afterwards of Glan Colwyn, who gave him the legend of Owen Lawgoch of which I shall have something to say later, and the story of the bogie of Pen Pwll Coch, which I do not know. ‘But the chief story-teller of his time at Beđgelert,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘was Twm Ifan Siams (pronounced Si̯ăms or Shăms), brother, I believe, to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of the Penrhyn, who was a bard and pedigree man. Twm lived at Nanmor, but I know not what his vocation was; his relatives, however, were small farmers, carpenters, and masons. It is not improbable that he was also an artisan, as he was conversant with numbers, magnitude, and letters, and left behind him a volume forming a pedigree book known at Nanmor as theBarcud Mawr, or “Great Kite,” as Gruffuđ Prisiart told me. The latter had been reading it manya time in order to know the origin of somebody or other. All I can remember of this character is that he was very old—over 90—and that he went from house to house in his old age to relate tales and recount pedigrees: great was the welcome he had from everybody everywhere. I remember, also, that he was small of stature, nimble, witty, exceedingly amusing, and always ready with his say on every subject. He was in the habit of calling on my grandfather in his rambles, and very cordial was the reception which my parents always gave him on account of his tales and his knowledge of pedigrees. The story of the afanc, as given in my collection, is from his mouth. You will observe how little difference there is between his version2and that known to Edward Ỻwyd in the year 1695. I had related this story to a friend of mine at Portmadoc, who was grandson or great-grandson to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of Penrhyn, in 1858, when he called my attention to the same story in theCambrian Journalfrom the correspondence of Edward Ỻwyd. I was surprised at the similarity between the two versions, and I went to Beđgelert to Gruffuđ Rhisiart, who was related to Twm Siôn Siams. I read the story to him, and I found that he had heard it related by his uncle just as it was by me, and as given in theCambrian Journal. Twm Ifan Siams had funny stories about the tricks ofGwrach y Rhibyn, theBodach3Glas, and theBwbach Ỻwyd, which he localized in Nanmor and Ỻanfrothen; he had, also, a very eloquent tale about the courtship between a sailor from Moel y Gest, near Portmadoc, and a mermaid, of which I retain a fairlygood recollection. I believe Twm died in the year 1835–6, aged about ninety-five.’So far, I have merely translated Mr. Jones’ account of himself and his authorities as given me in the letter I have already referred to, dated in June of last year, 1881. I would now add the substance of his general remarks about the fairies, as he had heard them described, and as he expressed himself in his essay for the competition on folklore at the Carnarvon Eisteđfod of 1880:—The traditions, he says, respecting theTylwyth Tegvary according to the situation of the districts with which they are connected, and many more such traditions continue to be remembered among the inhabitants of the mountains than by those of the more level country. In some places theTylwyth Tegare described as a small folk of a thieving nature, living in summer among the fern bushes in the mountains, and in winter in the heather and gorse. These were wont to frequent the fairs and to steal money from the farmers’ pockets, where they placed in its stead their own fairy money, which looked like the coin of the realm, but when it was paid for anything bought it would vanish in the pockets of the seller. In other districts the fairies were described as a little bigger and stronger folk; but these latter were also of a thieving disposition. They would lurk around people’s houses, looking for an opportunity to steal butter and cheese from the dairies, and they skulked about the cow-yards, in order to milk the cows and the goats, which they did so thoroughly that many a morning there was not a drop of milk to be had. The principal mischief, however, which those used to do, was to carry away unbaptized infants, and place in their stead their own wretched and peevish offspring. They were said to live in hidden caves in the mountains, and he had heard one old man asserting his firmbelief that it was beneath Moel Eilio, also called Moel Eilian, a mountain lying between Ỻanberis and Cweỻyn, theTylwyth Tegof Nant y Bettws lived, whom he had seen many a time when he was a lad; and, if any one came across the mouth of their cave, he thought that he would find there a wonderful amount of wealth, ‘for they were thieves without their like.’ There is still another species ofTylwyth Teg, very unlike the foregoing ones in their nature and habits. Not only was this last kind far more beautiful and comely than the others, but they were honest and good towards mortals. Their whole nature was replete with joy and fun, nor were they ever beheld hardly, except engaged in some merry-making or other. They might be seen on bright moonlight nights at it, singing and carolling playfully on the fair meadows and the green slopes, at other times dancing lightly on the tops of the rushes in the valleys. They were also wont to be seen hunting in full force on the backs of their grey horses; for this kind were rich, and kept horses and servants. Though it used to be said that they were spiritual and immortal beings, still they ate and drank like human beings: they married and had children. They were also remarkable for their cleanliness, and they were wont to reward neat maid-servants and hospitable wives. So housewives used to exhort their maids to clean their houses thoroughly every night before going to bed, saying that if theTylwyth Teghappened to enter, they would be sure to leave money for them somewhere; but they were to tell no one in case they found any, lest theTylwythshould be offended and come no more. The mistresses also used to order a tinful of water to be placed at the foot of the stairs, a clean cloth on the table, with bread and its accompaniments (bara ac enỻyn) placed on it, so that, if theTylwythcame in to eat, the maids shouldhave their recompense on the hob as well as unstinted praise for keeping the house clean, or, as Mr. Jones has it in a couplet from Goronwy Owen’sCywyđ y Cynghorfynt—Cael eu rhent ar y pentan,A ỻwyr glod o bai ỻawr glân.Finding the fairies’ pay on the hob,With full credit for a clean floor.Thus, whether the fairies came or not to pay a visit to them during their sleep, the house would be clean by the morning, and the table ready set for breakfast. It appears that the places most frequently resorted to by this species were rushy combes surrounded by smooth hills with round tops, also the banks of rivers and the borders of lakes; but they were seldom seen at any time near rocks or cliffs. So more tales about them are found in districts of the former description than anywhere else, and among them may be mentioned Penmachno, Dolwyđelan, the sides of Moel Siabod, Ỻandegái Mountain, and from there to Ỻanberis, to Nantỻe Lakes, to Moel Tryfan4and Nant y Bettws, the upper portion of the parish of Beđgelert from Drws y Coed to the Pennant, and the district beginning from there and including the level part of Eifion, on towards Celynnog Fawr. I have very little doubt that there are many traditions about them in the neighbourhood of the Eifl and in Ỻeyn; I know but little, however, about these last. This kind of fairies was said to live underground, and the way to their country lay under hollow banks that overhung the deepest parts of the lakes, or the deepest pools in the rivers, so that mortals could not follow them further than the water, should they try to go after them. They used to come out in broad daylight,two or three together, and now and then a shepherd, so the saying went, used to talk and chat with them. Sometimes, moreover, he fell over head and ears in love with their damsels, but they did not readily allow a mortal to touch them. The time they were to be seen in their greatest glee was at night when the moon was full, when they celebrated a merry night (noswaith lawen). At midnight to the minute, they might be seen rising out of the ground in every combe and valley; then, joining hands, they would form into circles, and begin to sing and dance with might and main until the cock crew, when they would vanish. Many used to go to look at them on those nights, but it was dangerous to go too near them, lest they should lure the spectator into their circle; for if that happened, they would throw a charm over him, which would make him invisible to his companions, and he would be detained by the fairies as long as he lived. At times some people went too near to them, and got snatched in; and at other times a love-inspired youth, fascinated by the charms of one of their damsels, rushed in foolhardily to try to seize one of them, and became instantly surrounded and concealed from sight. If he could be got out before the cock crew he would be no worse; but once the fairies disappeared without his having been released, he would never more be seen in the land of the living. The way to get the captured man out was to take a long stick of mountain ash (pren criafol), which two or more strong men had to hold with one of its ends in the middle of the circle, so that when the man came round in his turn in the dance he might take hold of it, for he is there bodily though not visible, so that he cannot go past without coming across the stick. Then the others pull him out, for the fairies, no more than any other spirit, dare touch the mountain ash.We now proceed to give some of Mr. Jones’ legends. The first is one which he published in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 70, whence the following free translation is made of it:—‘In the north-west corner of the parish of Beđgelert there is a place which used to be called by the old inhabitants the Land of the Fairies, and it reaches from Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ along the slope of the mountain of Drws y Coed as far as Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The old people of former times used to find much pleasure and amusement in this district in listening every moonlight night to the charming music of the fair family, and in looking at their dancing and their mirthful sports. Once on a time, a long while ago, there lived at upper Drws y Coed a youth, who was joyous and active, brave and determined of heart. This young man amused himself every night by looking on and listening to them. One night they had come to a field near the house, near the shore of Ỻyn y Dywarchen, to pass a merry night. He went, as usual, to look at them, when his glances at once fell on one of the ladies, who possessed such beauty as he had never seen in a human being. Her appearance was like that of alabaster; her voice was as agreeable as the nightingale’s, and as unruffled as the zephyr in a flower-garden at the noon of a long summer’s day; and her gait was pretty and aristocratic; her feet moved in the dance as lightly on the grass as the rays of the sun had a few hours before on the lake hard by. He fell in love with her over head and ears, and in the strength of that passion—for what is stronger than love!—he rushed, when the bustle was at its height, into the midst of the fair crowd, and snatched the graceful damsel in his arms, and ran instantly with her to the house. When the fair family saw the violence used by a mortal, they broke up the dance and ran after hertowards the house; but, when they arrived, the door had been bolted with iron, wherefore they could not get near her or touch her in any way; and the damsel had been placed securely in a chamber. The youth, having her now under his roof, as is the saying, endeavoured, with all his talent, to win her affection and to induce her to wed. But at first she would on no account hear of it; on seeing his persistence, however, and on finding that he would not let her go to return to her people, she consented to be his servant if he could find out her name; but she would not be married to him. As he thought that was not impossible, he half agreed to the condition; but, after bothering his head with all the names known in that neighbourhood, he found himself no nearer his point, though he was not willing to give up the search hurriedly. One night, as he was going home from Carnarvon market, he saw a number of the fair folks in a turbary not far from his path. They seemed to him to be engaged in an important deliberation, and it struck him that they were planning how to recover their abducted sister. He thought, moreover, that if he could secretly get within hearing, he might possibly find her name out. On looking carefully around, he saw that a ditch ran through the turbary and passed near the spot where they stood. So he made his way round to the ditch, and crept, on all fours, along it until he was within hearing of the family. After listening a little, he found that their deliberation was as to the fate of the lady he had carried away, and he heard one of them crying, piteously, “O Penelop, O Penelop, my sister, why didst thou run away with a mortal!” “Penelop,” said the young man to himself, “that must be the name of my beloved: that is enough.” At once he began to creep back quietly, and he returned home safely without having been seen by the fairies.When he got into the house, he called out to the girl, saying, “Penelop, my beloved one, come here!” and she came forward and asked, in astonishment, “O mortal, who has betrayed my name to thee?” Then, lifting up her tiny folded hands, she exclaimed, “Alas, my fate, my fate!” But she grew contented with her fate, and took to her work in earnest. Everything in the house and on the farm prospered under her charge. There was no better or cleanlier housewife in the neighbourhood around, or one that was more provident than she. The young man, however, was not satisfied that she should be a servant to him, and, after he had long and persistently sought it, she consented to be married, on the one condition, that, if ever he should touch her with iron, she would be free to leave him and return to her family. He agreed to that condition, since he believed that such a thing would never happen at his hands. So they were married, and lived several years happily and comfortably together. Two children were born to them, a boy and a girl, the picture of their mother and the idols of their father. But one morning, when the husband wanted to go to the fair at Carnarvon, he went out to catch a filly that was grazing in the field by the house; but for the life of him he could not catch her, and he called to his wife to come to assist him. She came without delay, and they managed to drive the filly to a secure corner, as they thought; but, as the man approached to catch her, she rushed past him. In his excitement, he threw the bridle after her; but, who should be running in the direction of it, but his wife! The iron bit struck her on the cheek, and she vanished out of sight on the spot. Her husband never saw her any more; but one cold frosty night, a long time after this event, he was awakened from his sleep by somebody rubbing the glass of his window, and, after he had givena response, he recognized the gentle and tender voice of his wife saying to him:—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.It is said that the descendants of this family still continue in these neighbourhoods, and that they are easy to be recognized by their light and fair complexion. A similar story is related of the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, in Ỻanfihangel y Pennant, and it used to be said that most of the inhabitants of that neighbourhood were formerly of a light complexion. I have often heard old people saying, that it was only necessary, within their memory, to point out in the fair at Penmorfa any one as being of the breed of theTylwyth, to cause plenty of fighting that day at least.’The reader may compare with this tale the following, for which I have to thank Mr. Samuel Rhys Williams, whose words I give, followed by a translation:—Yr oeđ gwr ieuanc o gymydogaeth Drws y Coed yn dychwelyd adref o Beđgelert ar noswaith loergan ỻeuad; pan ar gyfer Ỻyn y Gader gwelai nifer o’r boneđigesau a elwir y Tylwyth Teg yn myned trwy eu chwareuon nosawl. Swynwyd y ỻanc yn y fan gan brydferthwch y rhianod hyn, ac yn neiỻduol un o honynt. Coỻođ y ỻywodraeth arno ei hunan i’r fath rađau fel y penderfynođ neidio i’r cylch a dwyn yn ysbail iđo yr hon oeđ wedi myned a’i galon mor ỻwyr. Cyflawnođ ei fwriad a dygođ y foneđiges gydag ef adref. Bu yn wraig iđo, a ganwyd plant iđynt. Yn đamweiniol, tra yn cyflawni rhyw orchwyl, digwyđođ iđo ei tharo a haiarn ac ar amrantiad diflannođ ei anwylyd o’i olwg ac nis gwelođ hi mwyach, ond đarfod iđi đyfod at ffenestr ei ystafeỻ wely un noswaith ar ol hyn a’i annog i fod yn dirion wrth y plant a’i bod hi yn aros gerỻaw y tyyn Ỻyny Dywarchen. Y mae y trađodiad hefyd yn ein hysbysu đarfod i’r gwr hwn symud i fyw o Đrws y Coed i Ystrad Betws Garmon.‘A young man, from the neighbourhood of Drws y Coed, was returning home one bright moonlight night, from Beđgelert; when he came opposite the lake called Ỻyn y Gader, he saw a number of the ladies known as theTylwyth Teggoing through their nightly frolics. The youth was charmed at once by the beauty of these ladies, and especially by one of them. He so far lost his control over himself, that he resolved to leap into the circle and carry away as his spoil the one who had so completely robbed him of his heart. He accomplished his intention, and carried the lady home with him. She became his wife, and children were born to them. Accidentally, while at some work or other, it happened to him to strike her with iron, and, in the twinkling of an eye, his beloved one disappeared from his sight. He saw her no more, except that she came to his bedroom window one night afterwards, and told him to be tender to the children, and that she was staying, near the house, in the lake called Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The tradition also informs us that this man moved from Drws y Coed to live at Ystrad near Bettws Garmon.’The name Ỻyn y Dywarchen, I may add, means the Lake of the Sod or Turf: it is the one with the floating island, described thus by Giraldus, ii. 9 (p. 135):—Alter enim insulam habet erraticam, vi ventorum impellentium ad oppositas plerumque lacus partes errabundam. Hic armenta pascentia nonnunquam pastores ad longinquas subito partes translata mirantur.‘For one of the two lakes holds a wandering island, which strays mostly with the force of the winds impelling it to the opposite parts of the lake. Sometimes cattle grazing on it are,to the surprise of the shepherds, suddenly carried across to the more distant parts.’ Sheep are known to get on the floating islet, and it is still believed to float them away from the shore. Mr. S. Rhys Williams, it will be noticed, has given the substance of the legend rather than the story itself. I now proceed to translate the same tale as given in Welsh inCymru Fu(pp. 474–7 of the edition published by Messrs. Hughes and Son, Wrexham), in a very different dress—it is from Glasynys’ pen, and, as might be expected, decked out with all the literary adornments in which he delighted. The language he used was his own, but there is no reason to think that he invented any of the incidents:—‘The farmer of Drws y Coed’s son was one misty day engaged as a shepherd on the side of the mountain, a little below Cwm Marchnad, and, as he crossed a rushy flat, he saw a wonderfully handsome little woman standing under a clump of rushes. Her yellow and curly hair hung down in ringed locks, and her eyes were as blue as the clear sky, while her forehead was as white as the wavy face of a snowdrift that has nestled on the side of Snowdon only a single night. Her two plump cheeks were each like a red rose, and her pretty-lipped mouth might make an angel eager to kiss her. The youth approached her, filled with love for her, and, with delicacy and affection, asked her if he might converse with her. She smiled kindly, and reaching out her hand, said to him, “Idol of my hopes, thou hast come at last!” They began to associate secretly, and to meet one another daily here and there on the moors around the banks of Ỻyn y Gader; at last, their love had waxed so strong that the young man could not be at peace either day or night, as he was always thinking of Bella or humming to himself a verse of poetry about her charms. The yellow-haired youth was now andthen lost for a long while, and nobody could divine his history. His acquaintances believed that he had been fascinated: at last the secret was found out. There were about Ỻyn y Dywarchen shady and concealing copses: it was there he was wont to go, and the she-elf would always be there awaiting him, and it was therefore that the place where they used to meet got to be calledỺwyn y Forwyn, the Maiden’s Grove. After fondly loving for a long time, it was resolved to wed; but it was needful to get the leave of the damsel’s father. One moonlight night it was agreed to meet in the wood, and the appointment was duly kept by the young man, but there was no sign of the subterranean folks coming, until the moon disappeared behind the Garn. Then the two arrived, and the old man at once proceeded to say to the suitor: “Thou shalt have my daughter on the condition that thou do not strike her with iron. If thou ever touch her with iron, she will no longer be thine, but shall return to her own.” The man consented readily, and great was his joy. They were betrothed, and seldom was a handsomer pair seen at the altar. It was rumoured that a vast sum of money as dowry had arrived with the pretty lady at Drws y Coed on the evening of her nuptials. Soon after, the mountain shepherd of Cwm Marchnad passed for a very rich and influential man. In the course of time they had children, and no happier people ever lived together than their parents. Everything went on regularly and prosperously for a number of years: they became exceedingly wealthy, but the sweet is not to be had without the bitter. One day they both went out on horseback, and they happened to go near Ỻyn y Gader, when the wife’s horse got into a bog and sank to his belly. After the husband had got Bella off his back, he succeeded with much trouble in getting the horse out, and thenhe let him go. Then he lifted her on the back of his own, but, unfortunately, in trying quickly to place her foot in the stirrup, the iron part of the same slipped, and struck her—or, rather, it touched her at the knee-joint. Before they had made good half their way home, several of the diminutiveTylwythbegan to appear to them, and the sound of sweet singing was heard on the side of the hill. Before the husband reached Drws y Coed his wife had left him, and it is supposed that she fled to Ỻwyn y Forwyn, and thence to the world below to Faery. She left her dear little ones to the care of her beloved, and no more came near them. Some say, however, that she sometimes contrived to see her beloved one in the following manner. As the law of her country did not permit her to frequent the earth with an earthly being, she and her mother invented a way of avoiding the one thing and of securing the other. A great piece of sod was set to float on the surface of the lake, and on that she used to be for long hours, freely conversing in tenderness with her consort on shore; by means of that plan they managed to live together until he breathed his last. Their descendants owned Drws y Coed for many generations, and they intermarried and mixed with the people of the district. Moreover, many a fierce fight took place in later times at theGwyl-fabsantat Dolbenmaen or at Penmorfa, because the men of Eifionyđ had a habit of annoying the people of Pennant by calling them Bellisians.’In a note, Glasynys remarks that this tale is located in many districts without much variation, except in the names of the places; this, however, could not apply to the latter part, which suits Ỻyn y Dywarchen alone. With this account of the fairy wife frequenting a lake island to converse with her husband on shore, compare the Irish story of the Children of Lir, who, thoughtransformed into swans, were allowed to retain their power of reasoning and speaking, so that they used to converse from the surface of the water with their friends on the dry land: see Joyce’sOld Celtic Romances, pp. x, 1–36. Now I return to another tale which was sent me by Mr. William Jones: unless I am mistaken it has not hitherto been published; so I give the Welsh together with a free translation of it:—Yr oeđ ystori am fab Braich y Dinas a adrođai y diweđar hybarch Elis Owen o Gefn y Meusyđ yn ỻed debyg i chwedl mab yr Ystrad gan Glasynys, sef iđo hudo un o ferched y Tylwyth Teg i lawr o Foel Hebog, a’i chipio i mewn i’r ty drwy orthrech; ac wedi hynny efe a’i perswadiođ i ymbriodi ag ef ar yr un telerau ag y gwnaeth mab yr Ystrad. Ond clywais hen foneđiges o’r enw Mrs. Roberts, un o ferched yr Isaỻt, oeđ lawer hyn na Mr. Owen, yn ei hadrođ yn wahanol. Yr oeđ yr hen wreigan hon yn credu yn nilysrwyđ y chwedl, oblegid yr oeđ hi ‘yn cofio rhai o’r teulu, waeth be’ đeudo neb.’ Dirwynnai ei hedau yn debyg i hyn:—Yn yr amser gynt—ond o ran hynny pan oeđ hi yn ferch ifanc—yr oeđ ỻawer iawn o Dylwyth Teg yn trigo mewn rhyw ogofau yn y Foel o Gwm Ystradỻyn hyd i flaen y Pennant. Yr oeđ y Tylwyth hwn yn ỻawer iawn harđach na dim a welid mewn un rhan araỻ o’r wlad. Yr oeđynt o ran maint yn fwy o lawer na’r rhai cyffredin, yn lan eu pryd tu hwnt i bawb, eu gwaỻt yn oleu fel ỻin, eu ỻygaid yn loyw leision. Yr oeđynt yn ymđangos mewn rhyw le neu gilyđ yn chwareu, canu ac ymđifyru bob nos deg a goleu; a byđai swn eu canu yn denu y ỻanciau a’r merched ifainc i fyned i’w gweled; ac os byđent yn digwyđ bod o bryd goleu hwy a ymgomient a hwynt, ond ni adawent i un person o liw tywyỻ đod yn agos atynt, eithr cilient ymaith o fforđ y cyfryw un. Yrŵan yr oeđ mab Braich y Dinas yn ỻanc harđ, heini, bywiog ac o bryd glan, goleu a serchiadol. Yr oeđhwn yn hoff iawn o edrych ar y Tylwyth, a byđai yn cael ymgom a rhai o honynt yn aml, ond yn bennaf ag un o’r merched oeđ yn rhagori arnynt oỻ mewn glendid a synwyr; ac o fynych gyfarfod syrthiođ y đau mewn cariad a’u gilyđ, eithr ni fynai hi ymbriodi ag ef, ond ađawođ fyned i’w wasanaeth, a chydunođ i’w gyfarfod yn Mhant—nid wyf yn cofio yr enw i gyd—drannoeth, oblegid nid oeđ wiw iđi geisio myned gydag ef yn ngwyđ y ỻeiỻ. Feỻy drannoeth aeth i fynu i’r Foel, a chyfarfyđođ y rhian ef yn ol ei hađewid, ag aeth gydag ef adref, ac ymgymerođ a’r swyđ o laethwraig, a buan y dechreuođ popeth lwyđo o dan ei ỻaw: yr oeđ yr ymenyn a’r caws yn cynhyđu beunyđ. Hir a thaer y bu’r ỻanc yn ceisio ganđi briodi. A hi a ađawođ, os medrai ef gael aỻan ei henw. Ni wyđai Mrs. Roberts drwy ba ystryw y ỻwyđođ i gael hwnnw, ond hynny a fu, a daeth ef i’r ty un noswaith a galwođ ar ‘Sibi,’ a phan glywođ hi ei henw, hi a aeth i lewygfa; ond pan đaeth ati ei hun, hi a ymfođlonođ i briodi ar yr amod nad oeđ ef i gyffwrđ a hi a haiarn ac nad oeđ boỻt haiarn i fod ar y drws na chlo ychwaith, a hynny a fu: priodwyd hwynt, a buont fyw yn gysurus am lawer o flynyđoeđ, a ganwyd iđynt amryw blant. Y diweđ a fu fel hyn: yr oeđ ef wedi myned un diwrnod i dori baich o frwyn at doi, a tharawođ y cryman yn y baich i fyned adref; fel yr oeđ yn nesu at y gadlas, rhedođ Sibi i’w gyfarfod, a thaflođ ynteu y baich brwyn yn đireidus tu ag ati, a rhag iđo đyfod ar ei thraws ceisiođ ei atal a’i ỻaw, yr hon a gyffyrđođ a’r cryman; a hi a điflannođ o’r golwg yn y fan yn nghysgod y baich brwyn: ni welwyd ac ni chlywyd dim ođiwrthi mwyach.‘There was a story respecting the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, which used to be told by the late respected Mr. Ellis Owen, of Cefn y Meusyđ, somewhat in the same way as that about the Ystrad youth, as told by Glasynys; that is to say, the young man enticed oneof the damsels of the fair family to come down from Moel Hebog, and then he carried her by force into the house, and afterwards persuaded her to become his wife on the same conditions as the heir of Ystrad did. But I have heard an old lady called Mrs. Roberts, who had been brought up at Isaỻt, and who was older than Mr. Owen, relating it differently. This old woman believed in the truth of the story, as “she remembered some of the family, whatever anybody may say.” She used to spin her yarn somewhat as follows:—In old times—but, for the matter of that, when she was a young woman—there were a great many of the fair family living in certain caves in the Foel from CwmStráỻyn5down to the upper part of Pennant. ThisTylwythwas much handsomer than any seen in any other part of the country. In point of stature they were much bigger than the ordinary ones, fair of complexion beyond everybody, with hair that was as light as flax, and eyes that were of a clear blue colour. They showed themselves in one spot or another, engaged in playing, singing, and jollity every light night. The sound of their singing used to draw the lads and the young women to look at them; and, should they be of clear complexion, the fairies would chat with them; but they would let no person of a dark hue come near them: they moved away from such a one. Now the young man of Braich y Dinas was a handsome, vigorous, and lively stripling of fair, clear, and attractive complexion. He was very fond of looking at the fair family, and had a chat with some of them often,but chiefly with one of the damsels, who surpassed all the rest in beauty and good sense. The result of frequently meeting was that they fell in love with one another, but she would not marry him. She promised, however, to go to service to him, and agreed to meet him at Pant y—I have forgotten the rest of the name—the day after, as it would not do for her to go with him while the others happened to be looking on. So he went up the next day to the Foel, and the damsel met him according to her promise, and went with him home, where she took to the duties of a dairymaid. Soon everything began to prosper under her hand; the butter and the cheese were daily growing in quantity. Long and importunately did the youth try to get her to marry him. She promised to do so provided he could find out her name. Mrs. Roberts did not know by what manœuvre he succeeded in discovering it, but it was done, and he came into the house one night and called to “Sibi,” and when she heard her name she fainted away. When, however, she recovered her consciousness, she consented to marry on the condition that he was not to touch her with iron, and that there was not to be a bolt of iron on the door, or a lock either. It was agreed, and they were married; they lived together comfortably many years, and had children born to them. The end came thus: he had gone one day to cut a bundle of rushes for thatching, and planted the reaping-hook in the bundle to go home. As he drew towards the haggard, Sibi ran out to meet him, and he wantonly threw the bundle of rushes towards her, when she, to prevent its hitting her, tried to stop it with her hand, which touched the reaping-hook. She vanished on the spot out of sight behind the bundle of rushes, and nothing more was seen or heard of her.’Mr. Ellis Owen, alluded to above, was a highly respected gentleman, well known in North Wales for his literary and antiquarian tastes. He was born in 1789 at Cefn y Meusyđ near Tremadoc, where he continued to live till the day of his death, which was January 27, 1868. His literary remains, preceded by a short biography, were published in 1877 by Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc; but it contains no fairy tales so far as I have been able to find.A tale which partially reminds one of that given by Dewi Glan Ffrydlas respecting the Corwrion midwife, referred to at p. 63 above, was published by Mr. W. Jones in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 251: freely rendered into English, it runs thus:—‘Once on a time, when a midwife from Nanhwynan had newly got to the Hafođyđ Brithion to pursue her calling, a gentleman came to the door on a fine grey steed and bade her come with him at once. Such was the authority with which he spoke, that the poor midwife durst not refuse to go, however much it was her duty to stay where she was. So she mounted behind him, and off they went, like the flight of a swallow, through Cwmỻan, over the Bwlch, down Nant yr Aran, and over the Gader to Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ, before the poor woman had time even to say Oh! When they reached there, she saw before her a magnificent mansion, splendidly lit up with such lamps as she had never seen before. They entered the court, and a crowd of servants in expensive liveries came to meet them, and she was at once led through the great hall into a bed-chamber, the like of which she had never seen. There the mistress of the house, to whom she had been fetched, was awaiting her. The midwife got through her duties successfully, and stayed there until the lady had completely recovered, nor had she spent any part of herlife so merrily, for there nought but festivity went on day and night: dancing, singing, and endless rejoicing reigned there. But merry as it was, she found that she must go, and the nobleman gave her a large purse, with the order not to open it until she had got into her own house. Then he bade one of his servants escort her the same way that she had come. When she reached home she opened the purse, and, to her great joy, it was full of money: she lived happily on those earnings to the end of her life.’With this ending of the story one should contrast Dewi Glan Ffrydlas’ tale to which I have already alluded; and I may here refer to Mr. Sikes’British Goblins, pp. 86–8, for a tale differing from both Dewi’s and Jones’, in that the fairies are there made to appear as devils to the nurse, who had accidentally used a certain ointment which she was not to place near her own eyes. Instead of being rewarded for her services she was only too glad to be deposited anyhow near her home. ‘But,’ as the story goes on to relate, ‘very many years afterwards, being at a fair, she saw a man stealing something from a stall, and, with one corner of her eye, beheld her old master pushing the man’s elbow. Unthinkingly she said, “How are you, master? how are the children?” He said, “How did you see me?” She answered, “With the corner of my left eye.” From that moment she was blind of her left eye, and lived many years with only her right.’ Such is the end of this tale given by Mr. Sikes.‘But the fair family did not,’ Mr. William Jones goes on to say, ‘always give mortals the means of good living: sometimes they made no little fun of them. Once on a time the Drws y Coed man was going home from Beđgelert Fair, rather merry than sad, along the old road over the Gader, when he saw, on coming nearthe top of the Gader, a fine, handsome house near the road, in which there was a rare merrymaking. He knew perfectly well that there was no such a building anywhere on his way, and it made him think that he had lost his way and gone astray; so he resolved to turn into the house to ask for lodgings, which were given him. At once, when he entered, he took it to be a nuptial feast (neithior) by reason of the jollity, the singing, and the dancing. The house was full of young men, young women, and children, all merry, and exerting themselves to the utmost. The company began to disappear one by one, and he asked if he might go to bed, whereupon he was led to a splendid chamber, where there was a bed of the softest down with snow-white clothes on it. He stripped at once, went into it, and slept quietly enough till the morning. The first thing to come to his mind when he lay half asleep, half awake, was the jollity of the night before, and the fact of his sleeping in a splendid chamber in the strange house. He opened his eyes to survey his bedroom, but it was too wide: he was sleeping on the bare swamp, with a clump of rushes as his pillow, and the blue sky as his coverlet.’Mr. Jones mentions that, within his memory, there were still people in his neighbourhood who believed that the fairies stole unbaptized children and placed their own in their stead: he gives the following story about the farmer’s wife of Dyffryn Mymbyr, near Capel Curig, and her infant:—Yr oeđ y wraig hon wedi rhođi genedigaeth i blentyn iach a heinif yn nechreu y cynheuaf ryw haf blin a thymhestlog: ac o herwyđ fod y tyđyn getyn o fforđ ođiwrth lan na chapel, a’r hin mor hynod o lawiog, esgeuluswyd bedyđio y plentyn yn yr amser arferol, sef cyn ei fod yn wyth niwrnod oed. Ryw điwrnod teg ynnghanol y cynheuaf blin aeth y wraig aỻan i’r maes gyda’r rhelyw o’r teulu i geisio achub y cynheuaf, a gadawođ y baban yn cysgu yn ei gryd o dan ofal ei nain, yr hon oeđ hen a methiantus, ac yn anaỻuog i fyned lawer o gwmpas. Syrthiođ yr hen wreigan i gysgu, a thra yr oeđ hi feỻy, daeth y Tylwyth i fewn, a chymerasant y baban o’r cryd, a dodasant un araỻ yn ei le. Yn mhen ennyd dechreuođ hwn erain a chwyno nes deffro y nain, ac aeth at y cryd, ỻe y gwelođ gleiriach hen eiđil crebachlyd yn ymstwyrian yn flin. ‘O’r wchw!’ ebai hi, ‘y mae yr hen Dylwyth wedi bod yma;’ ac yn đioed chwythođ yn y corn i alw y fam, yr hon a đaeth yno yn điatreg; a phan glywođ y crio yn y cryd, rhedođ ato, a chodođ y bychan i fynu heb sylwi arno, a hi a’i cofleidiođ, a’i suođ ac a’i swcrođ at ei bronnau, ond nid oeđ dim yn tycio, parhau i nadu yn đidor yr oeđ nes bron a hoỻti ei chalon; ac ni wyđai pa beth i wneud i’w đistewi. O’r diweđ hi a edrychođ arno, a gwelođ nad oeđ yn debyg i’w mhebyn hi, ac aeth yn loes i’w chalon: edrychođ arno drachefn, ond po fwyaf yr edrychai arno, hyỻaf yn y byd oeđ hi yn ei weled; anfonođ am ei gwr o’r cae, a gyrrođ ef i ymholi am wr cyfarwyđ yn rhywle er mwyn cael ei gynghor; ac ar ol hir holi dywedođ rhywun wrtho fod person Trawsfynyđ yn gyfarwyđ yn nghyfrinion yr ysprydion; ac efe a aeth ato, ac archođ hwnnw iđo gymeryd rhaw a’i gorchuđio a halen, a thori ỻun croes yn yr halen; yna ei chymeryd i’r ystafeỻ ỻe yr oeđ mab y Tylwyth, ac ar ol agor y ffenestr, ei rhođi ar y tan hyd nes y ỻosgai yr halen; a hwy a wnaethant feỻy, a phan aeth yr halen yn eiriasboeth fe aeth yr erthyl croes ymaith yn anweledig iđynt hwy, ac ar drothwy y drws hwy a gawsant y baban araỻ yn iach a dianaf.‘This woman had given birth to a healthy and vigorous child at the beginning of the harvest, one wretched andinclement summer. As the homestead was a considerable distance from church or chapel, and the weather so very rainy, it was neglected to baptize the child at the usual6time, that is to say, before it was eight days old. One fine day, in the middle of this wretched harvest, the mother went to the field with the rest of the family to try to save the harvest, and left her baby sleeping in its cradle in its grandmother’s charge, who was so aged and decrepit as to be unable to go much about. The old woman fell asleep, and, while she was in that state, theTylwyth Tegcame in and took away the baby, placing another in its stead. Very shortly the latter began to whine and groan, so that the grandmother awoke: she went to the cradle, where she saw a slender, wizened old man moving restlessly and peevishly about. “Alas! alas!” said she, “the oldTylwythhave been here”; and she at once blew in the horn to call the mother home, who came without delay. As she heard the crying in the cradle, she ran towards it, and lifted the little one without looking at him; she hugged him, put him to her breast, and sang lullaby to him, but nothing was of any avail, as he continued, without stopping, to scream enough to break her heart; and she knew not what to do to calm him. At last she looked at him: she saw that he was not like her dear little boy, and her heart was pierced with agony. She looked at him again, and the more she examined him the uglier he seemed to her. She sent for her husband home from the field, and told him to search for a skilled man somewhere or other; and, after a long search, he was told by somebody that the parson of Trawsfynyđ was skilled in the secrets of the spirits;so he went to him. The latter bade him take a shovel and cover it with salt, and make the figure of the cross in the salt; then to take it to the chamber where the fairy child was, and, after taking care to open the window, to place the shovel on the fire until the salt was burnt. This was done, and when the salt had got white hot, the peevish abortion went away, seen of no one, and they found the other baby whole and unscathed at the doorstep.’ Fire was also made use of in Scotland in order to detect a changeling and force him to quit: see the British Association’sReport, 1896, p. 650, where Mr. Gomme refers to Mr. Gregor’sFolk-lore of the North-east of Scotland, pp. 8–9.In answer to a question of mine with regard to gossamer, which is called in North Walesedafeđ gwawn, ‘gwawnyarn,’ Mr. Jones told me in a letter, dated April, 1881, that it used to be calledRhaffau’r Tylwyth Teg, that is to say, the Ropes of the Fair Family, which were associated with the diminutive, mischievous, and wanton kind of fairies who dwelt in marshy and rushy places, or among the fern and the heather. It used to be said that, if a man should lie down and fall asleep in any such a spot, the fairies would come and bind him with their ropes so that he could not move, and that they would then cover him with a sheet made of their ropes, which would make him invisible. This was illustrated by him by the following tale he had heard from his mother:—Clywais fy mam yn adrođ chwedl am fab y Ffriđ, yr hwn wrth đychwelyd adref o ffair Beđgelert yn rhywle ođeutu Pen Cae’r Gors a welođ beth afrifed o’r Tylwyth Bach yn neidio a phrancio ar bennau y grug. Efe a eisteđođ i lawr i edrych arnynt, a daeth hun drosto; ymoỻyngođ i lawr a chysgođ yn drwm. A phan oeđ feỻy, ymosodođ yr hoỻ lu arno a rhwymasant ef mor dyn felna aỻasai symud; yna hwy a’i cuđiasant ef a’r tuđed gwawn fel na aỻai neb ei weled os digwyđai iđo lefain am help. Yr oeđ ei deulu yn ei đisgwyl adref yn gynnar y nos honno, ac wrth ei weled yn oedi yn hwyr, aethant yn anesmwyth am dano ac aethpwyd i’w gyfarfod, eithr ni welent đim ođiwrtho, ac aed gan beỻed a’r pentref, ỻe en hyspyswyd ei fod wedi myned tuag adref yn gynnar gyda gwr Hafod Ruffyđ. Feỻy aed tua’r Hafod i edrych a oeđ yno; ond dywedođ gwr yr Hafod eu bod wedi ymwahanu ar Bont Glan y Gors, pawb tua’i fan ei hun. Yna chwiliwyd yn fanwl bob ochr i’r fforđ ođiyno i’r Ffriđ heb weled dim ođiwrtho. Buwyd yn chwilio yr hoỻ ardal drwy y dyđ drannoeth ond yn ofer. Fođ bynnag ođeutu yr un amser nos drannoeth daeth y Tylwyth ac a’i rhyđhasant, ac yn fuan efe a đeffrôđ wedi cysgu o hono drwy y nos a’r dyđ blaenorol. Ar ol iđo đeffro ni wyđai amcan daear yn mha le yr oeđ, a chrwydro y bu hyd ochrau y Gader a’r Gors Fawr hyd nes y canođ y ceiliog, pryd yr adnabu yn mha le yr oeđ, sef o fewn ỻai na chwarter miỻtir i’w gartref.‘I have heard my mother relating a tale about the son of the farmer of the Ffriđ, who, while on his way home from Beđgelert Fair, saw, somewhere near Pen Cae’r Gors, an endless number of the diminutive family leaping and capering on the heather tops. He sat him down to look at them, and sleep came over him; he let himself down on the ground, and slept heavily. When he was so, the whole host attacked him, and they bound him so tightly that he could not have stirred; then they covered him with the gossamer sheet, so that nobody could see him in case he called for help. His people expected him home early that evening, and, as they found him delaying till late, they got uneasy about him. They went to meet him, but no trace of him was seen,and they went as far as the village, where they were informed that he had started home in good time with the farmer of Hafod Ruffyđ. So they went to the Hafod to see if he was there; but the farmer told them that they had parted on Glan y Gors Bridge to go to their respective homes. A minute search was then made on both sides of the road from there to the Ffriđ, but without finding any trace of him. They kept searching the whole neighbourhood during the whole of the next day, but in vain. However, about the same time the following night theTylwythcame and liberated him, and he shortly woke up, after sleeping through the previous night and day. When he woke he had no idea where on earth he was; so he wandered about on the slopes of the Gader and near the Gors Fawr until the cock crew, when he found where he was, namely, less than a quarter of a mile from his home.’The late Mr. Owen, of Cefn Meusyđ, has already been alluded to. I have not been able to get at much of the folklore with which he was familiar, but, in reply to some questions of mine, Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc, his biographer, and the publisher of theBrython, so long as it existed, has kindly ransacked his memory. He writes to me in Welsh to the following effect:—‘I will tell you what I heard from Mr. Owen and my mother when I was a lad, about fifty-seven years ago. The former used to say that the people of Pennant in Eifionyđ had a nickname, to wit, that ofBelsiaid y Pennant, “the Bellisians of the Pennant”; that, when he was a boy, if anybody called outBelsiaid y Pennantat the Penmorfa Fair, every man jack of them would come out, and fighting always ensued. The antiquary used to explain it thus. Some two or three hundred years ago, Sir Robert of the Nant, one of Sir Richard Bulkeley’s ancestors, had a son and heir who was extravagantand wild. He married a gipsy, and they had children born to them; but, as the family regarded this marriage as a disgrace to their ancient stem, it is said that the father, the next time the vagabonds came round, gave a large sum of money to the father of the girl for taking her away with him. This having been done, the rumour was spread abroad that it was one of the fairies the youth had married, and that she had gone with him to catch a pony, when he threw the bridle at the beast to prevent it passing, and the iron of the bridle touched the wife; then that she at once disappeared, as the fairies always do so when touched with iron. However, the two children were put out to nurse, and the one of them, who was a girl, was brought up at Plas y Pennant, and her name wasPelisha7; her descendants remain to this day in the Nant, and are called Bellis, who are believed there, to this day, to be derived from theTylwyth Teg. Nothing offends them more than to be reminded of this.’Mr. R. I. Jones goes on to relate another tale as follows:—Dywedir fod ỻe a elwir yr Hafod Rugog mewn cwm anial yn y mynyđ ỻe y byđai y Tylwyth Teg yn arferol a mynychu; ac y byđent yn trwblio’r hen wraig am fenthyg rhywbeth neu gilyđ. Dywedođ hithau, ‘Cewch os caniatewch đau beth cyntaf—i’r peth cyntaf y cyffyrđaf ag ef wrth y drws dorri, a’r peth cyntaf y rhof fy ỻaw arno yn y ty estyn hanner ỻath.’ Yr oeđ carreg afael, fel ei gelwir, yn y mur wrth y drws ar ei fforđ, ac yr oeđ ganđi đefnyđ syrcyn gwlanen yn rhy fyr o hanner ỻath. Ond yn anffodus wrth đod a’i chaweỻad mawn i’r ty bu agos iđi a syrthio: rhoes ei ỻaw ar ben ei chlun i ymarbed a thorođ honno, a chan faint y boen cyffyrđođ yny ty a’i thrwyn yr hwn a estynnođ hanner ỻath.‘It is said that there was a place called Hafod Rugog in a wild hollow among the mountains, where the fair family were in the habit of resorting, and that they used to trouble the old woman of Hafod for the loan of one thing and another. So she said, one day, “You shall have the loan if you will grant me two first things—that the first thing I touch at the door break, and that the first thing I put my hand on in the house be lengthened half a yard.” There was a grip stone (carreg afael), as it is called, in the wall near the door, which was in her way, and she had in the house a piece of flannel for a jerkin which was half a yard too short. But, unfortunately, as she came, with her kreel full of turf on her back, to the house, she nearly fell down: she put her hand, in order to save herself, to her knee-joint, which then broke; and, owing to the pain, when she had got into the house, she touched her nose with her hand, when her nose grew half a yard longer.’Mr. Jones went on to notice how the old folks used to believe that the fairies were wont to appear in the marshes near Cweỻyn Lake, not far from Rhyd-Đu, to sing and dance, and that it was considered dangerous to approach them on those occasions lest one should be fascinated. As to the above-mentioned flannel and stone a folklorist asks me, why the old woman did not definitely mention them and say exactly what she wanted. The question is worth asking: I cannot answer it, but I mention it in the hope that somebody else will.

The best living authority I have found on the folklore of Beđgelert, Drws y Coed, and the surrounding district, is Mr. William Jones, of Ỻangoỻen. He has written a good deal on the subject in theBrython, and in essays intended for competition at various literary meetings in Wales. I had the loan from him of one such essay, and I have referred to theBrython; and I have also had from Mr. Jones a number of letters, most of which contain some additional information. In harmony, moreover, with my usual practice, I have asked Mr. Jones to give me a little of his own history. This he has been kind enough to do; and, as I have so far followed no particular order in these jottings, I shall now give the reader the substance of his letters in English, as I am anxious that no item should be lost or left inaccessible to English students of folklore. What is unintelligible to me may not be so to those who have made a serious study of the subject. Mr. Jones’ words are in substance to the following effect:—

‘I was bred and born in the parish of Beđgelert,one of the most rustic neighbourhoods and least subject to change in the whole country. Some of the old Welsh customs remained within my memory, in spite of the adverse influence of the Calvinistic Reformation, as it is termed, and I have myself witnessed several Knitting Nights and Nuptial Feasts (Neithiorau), which, be it noticed, are not to be confounded with weddings, as they were feasts which followed the weddings, at the interval of a week. At these gatherings song and story formed an element of prime importance in the entertainment at a time when the Reformation alluded to had already blown the blast of extinction on the Merry Nights (Noswyliau Ỻawen) and Saints’ Fêtes1(Gwyliau Mabsant) before the days of my youth, though many of my aged acquaintances remembered them well, and retained a vivid recollection of scores of the amusing tales which used to be related for the best at the last mentioned long-night meetings. I have heard not a few of them reproduced by men of that generation. As an example of the old-fashioned habits of the people of Beđgelert in my early days, I may mention the way in which wives and children used to be named. The custom was that the wife never took her husband’s family name, but retained the one she had as a spinster. Thus my grandmother on my mother’s side was called Ellen Hughes, daughter to Hugh Williams,of Gwastad Annas. The name of her husband, my grandfather, was William Prichard [=W. ab Rhisiart, or Richard’s son], son to Richard William, of the Efail Newyđ. The name of their eldest son, my uncle (brother to my mother), was Hugh Hughes, and the second son’s name was Richard William. The mother had the privilege of naming her first-born after her own family in case it was a boy; but if it happened to be a girl, she took her name from the father’s family, for which reason my mother’s maiden name was Catharine Williams. This remained her name to the day of her death: and the old people at Beđgelert persisted in calling me, so long as I was at home, William Prichard, after my grandfather, as I was my mother’s eldest child.

‘Most of the tales I have collected,’ says Mr. Jones, ‘relate to the parishes of Beđgelert and Dolwyđelen. My kindred have lived for generations in those two parishes, and they are very numerous: in fact, it used to be said that the people of Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert were all cousins. They were mostly small farmers, and jealous of all strangers, so that they married almost without exception from the one parish into the other. This intermixture helped to carry the tales of the one parish to the other, and to perpetuate them on the hearths of their homes from generation to generation, until they were swept away by another influence in this century. Many of my ancestors seem to have been very fond of stories, poetry, and singing, and I have been told that some of them were very skilled in these things. So also, in the case of my parents, the memory of the past had a great charm for them on both sides; and when the relatives from Dolwyđelen and Beđgelert met in either parish, there used to be no end to the recounting of pedigrees and the repeating of tales forthe best. By listening to them, I had been filled with desire to become an adept in pedigrees and legends. My parents used to let me go every evening to the house of my grandfather, William ab Rhisiart, the clerk, to listen to tales, and to hear edifying books read. My grandfather was a reader “without his rival,” and “he used to beat the parson hollow.” Many people used to meet at Pen y Bont in the evenings to converse together, and the stories of some of them were now and then exceedingly eloquent. Of course, I listened with eager ears and open mouth, in order, if I heard anything new, to be able to repeat it to my mother. She, unwilling to let herself be beaten, would probably relate another like it, which she had heard from her mother, her grandmother, or her old aunt of Gwastad Annas, who was a fairly good verse-wright of the homely kind. Then my father, if he did not happen to be busy with his music-book, would also give us a tale which he had heard from his grandmother or grandfather, the old John Jones, of Tyn Ỻan Dolwyđelen, or somebody else would do so. That is one source from which I got my knowledge of folklore; but this ceased when we moved from Beđgelert to Carnarvon in the year 1841. My grandfather died in 1844, aged seventy-eight.

‘Besides those,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘who used to come to my grandfather’s house and to his workshop to relate stories, the blacksmith’s shop used to be, especially on a rainy day, a capital place for a story, and many a time did I lurk there instead of going to school, in order to hear old William Dafyđ, the sawyer, who, peace be to his ashes! drank many a hornful from theBig Quartwithout ever breaking down, and old Ifan Owen, the fisherman, tearing away for the best at their yarns, sometimes a tissue of lies and sometimes truth. The former was funny, and a great wag, up to all kindsof tricks. He made everybody laugh, whereas the latter would preserve the gravity of a saint, however lying might be the tale which he related. Ifan Owen’s best stories were about the Water Spirit, or, as he called it,Ỻamhigyn y Dwr, “the Water Leaper.” He had not himself seen theỺamhigyn, but his father had seen it “hundreds of times.” Many an evening it had prevented him from catching a single fish in Ỻyn Gwynan, and, when the fisherman got on this theme, his eloquence was apt to become highly polysyllabic in its adjectives. Once in particular, when he had been angling for hours towards the close of the day, without catching anything, he found that something took the fly clean off the hook each time he cast it. After moving from one spot to another on the lake, he fished opposite the Benlan Wen, when something gave his line a frightful pull, “and, by the gallows, I gave another pull,” the fisherman used to say, “with all the force of my arm: out it came, and up it went off the hook, whilst I turned round to see, as it dashed so against the cliff of Benlan that it blazed like a lightning.” He used to add, “If that was not theỺamhigyn, it must have been the very devil himself.” That cliff must be two hundred yards at least from the shore. As to his father, he had seen the Water Spirit many times, and he had also been fishing in the Ỻyn Glâs or Ffynnon Lâs, once upon a time, when he hooked a wonderful and fearful monster: it was not like a fish, but rather resembled a toad, except that it had a tail and wings instead of legs. He pulled it easily enough towards the shore, but, as its head was coming out of the water, it gave a terrible shriek that was enough to split the fisherman’s bones to the marrow, and, had there not been a friend standing by, he would have fallen headlong into the lake, and been possibly dragged like a sheep intothe depth; for there is a tradition that if a sheep got into the Ỻyn Glâs, it could not be got out again, as something would at once drag it to the bottom. This used to be the belief of the shepherds of Cwm Dyli, within my memory, and they acted on it in never letting their dogs go after the sheep in the neighbourhood of this lake. These two funny fellows, William Dafyđ and Ifan Owen, died long ago, without leaving any of their descendants blessed with as much as the faintest gossamer thread of the story-teller’s mantle. The former, if he had been still living, would now be no less than 129 years of age, and the latter about 120.’

Mr. Jones proceeds to say that he had stories from sources besides those mentioned, namely, from Lowri Robart, wife of Rhisiart Edwart, the ‘Old Guide’; from his old aunt of Gwastad Annas; from William Wmffra, husband to his grandmother’s sister; from his grandmother, who was a native of Dolwyđelen, but had been brought up at Pwỻgwernog, in Nanmor; from her sister; and from Gruffuđ Prisiart, of Nanmor, afterwards of Glan Colwyn, who gave him the legend of Owen Lawgoch of which I shall have something to say later, and the story of the bogie of Pen Pwll Coch, which I do not know. ‘But the chief story-teller of his time at Beđgelert,’ Mr. Jones goes on to say, ‘was Twm Ifan Siams (pronounced Si̯ăms or Shăms), brother, I believe, to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of the Penrhyn, who was a bard and pedigree man. Twm lived at Nanmor, but I know not what his vocation was; his relatives, however, were small farmers, carpenters, and masons. It is not improbable that he was also an artisan, as he was conversant with numbers, magnitude, and letters, and left behind him a volume forming a pedigree book known at Nanmor as theBarcud Mawr, or “Great Kite,” as Gruffuđ Prisiart told me. The latter had been reading it manya time in order to know the origin of somebody or other. All I can remember of this character is that he was very old—over 90—and that he went from house to house in his old age to relate tales and recount pedigrees: great was the welcome he had from everybody everywhere. I remember, also, that he was small of stature, nimble, witty, exceedingly amusing, and always ready with his say on every subject. He was in the habit of calling on my grandfather in his rambles, and very cordial was the reception which my parents always gave him on account of his tales and his knowledge of pedigrees. The story of the afanc, as given in my collection, is from his mouth. You will observe how little difference there is between his version2and that known to Edward Ỻwyd in the year 1695. I had related this story to a friend of mine at Portmadoc, who was grandson or great-grandson to Dafyđ Siôn Siams, of Penrhyn, in 1858, when he called my attention to the same story in theCambrian Journalfrom the correspondence of Edward Ỻwyd. I was surprised at the similarity between the two versions, and I went to Beđgelert to Gruffuđ Rhisiart, who was related to Twm Siôn Siams. I read the story to him, and I found that he had heard it related by his uncle just as it was by me, and as given in theCambrian Journal. Twm Ifan Siams had funny stories about the tricks ofGwrach y Rhibyn, theBodach3Glas, and theBwbach Ỻwyd, which he localized in Nanmor and Ỻanfrothen; he had, also, a very eloquent tale about the courtship between a sailor from Moel y Gest, near Portmadoc, and a mermaid, of which I retain a fairlygood recollection. I believe Twm died in the year 1835–6, aged about ninety-five.’

So far, I have merely translated Mr. Jones’ account of himself and his authorities as given me in the letter I have already referred to, dated in June of last year, 1881. I would now add the substance of his general remarks about the fairies, as he had heard them described, and as he expressed himself in his essay for the competition on folklore at the Carnarvon Eisteđfod of 1880:—The traditions, he says, respecting theTylwyth Tegvary according to the situation of the districts with which they are connected, and many more such traditions continue to be remembered among the inhabitants of the mountains than by those of the more level country. In some places theTylwyth Tegare described as a small folk of a thieving nature, living in summer among the fern bushes in the mountains, and in winter in the heather and gorse. These were wont to frequent the fairs and to steal money from the farmers’ pockets, where they placed in its stead their own fairy money, which looked like the coin of the realm, but when it was paid for anything bought it would vanish in the pockets of the seller. In other districts the fairies were described as a little bigger and stronger folk; but these latter were also of a thieving disposition. They would lurk around people’s houses, looking for an opportunity to steal butter and cheese from the dairies, and they skulked about the cow-yards, in order to milk the cows and the goats, which they did so thoroughly that many a morning there was not a drop of milk to be had. The principal mischief, however, which those used to do, was to carry away unbaptized infants, and place in their stead their own wretched and peevish offspring. They were said to live in hidden caves in the mountains, and he had heard one old man asserting his firmbelief that it was beneath Moel Eilio, also called Moel Eilian, a mountain lying between Ỻanberis and Cweỻyn, theTylwyth Tegof Nant y Bettws lived, whom he had seen many a time when he was a lad; and, if any one came across the mouth of their cave, he thought that he would find there a wonderful amount of wealth, ‘for they were thieves without their like.’ There is still another species ofTylwyth Teg, very unlike the foregoing ones in their nature and habits. Not only was this last kind far more beautiful and comely than the others, but they were honest and good towards mortals. Their whole nature was replete with joy and fun, nor were they ever beheld hardly, except engaged in some merry-making or other. They might be seen on bright moonlight nights at it, singing and carolling playfully on the fair meadows and the green slopes, at other times dancing lightly on the tops of the rushes in the valleys. They were also wont to be seen hunting in full force on the backs of their grey horses; for this kind were rich, and kept horses and servants. Though it used to be said that they were spiritual and immortal beings, still they ate and drank like human beings: they married and had children. They were also remarkable for their cleanliness, and they were wont to reward neat maid-servants and hospitable wives. So housewives used to exhort their maids to clean their houses thoroughly every night before going to bed, saying that if theTylwyth Teghappened to enter, they would be sure to leave money for them somewhere; but they were to tell no one in case they found any, lest theTylwythshould be offended and come no more. The mistresses also used to order a tinful of water to be placed at the foot of the stairs, a clean cloth on the table, with bread and its accompaniments (bara ac enỻyn) placed on it, so that, if theTylwythcame in to eat, the maids shouldhave their recompense on the hob as well as unstinted praise for keeping the house clean, or, as Mr. Jones has it in a couplet from Goronwy Owen’sCywyđ y Cynghorfynt—

Cael eu rhent ar y pentan,A ỻwyr glod o bai ỻawr glân.Finding the fairies’ pay on the hob,With full credit for a clean floor.

Cael eu rhent ar y pentan,A ỻwyr glod o bai ỻawr glân.

Cael eu rhent ar y pentan,

A ỻwyr glod o bai ỻawr glân.

Finding the fairies’ pay on the hob,With full credit for a clean floor.

Finding the fairies’ pay on the hob,

With full credit for a clean floor.

Thus, whether the fairies came or not to pay a visit to them during their sleep, the house would be clean by the morning, and the table ready set for breakfast. It appears that the places most frequently resorted to by this species were rushy combes surrounded by smooth hills with round tops, also the banks of rivers and the borders of lakes; but they were seldom seen at any time near rocks or cliffs. So more tales about them are found in districts of the former description than anywhere else, and among them may be mentioned Penmachno, Dolwyđelan, the sides of Moel Siabod, Ỻandegái Mountain, and from there to Ỻanberis, to Nantỻe Lakes, to Moel Tryfan4and Nant y Bettws, the upper portion of the parish of Beđgelert from Drws y Coed to the Pennant, and the district beginning from there and including the level part of Eifion, on towards Celynnog Fawr. I have very little doubt that there are many traditions about them in the neighbourhood of the Eifl and in Ỻeyn; I know but little, however, about these last. This kind of fairies was said to live underground, and the way to their country lay under hollow banks that overhung the deepest parts of the lakes, or the deepest pools in the rivers, so that mortals could not follow them further than the water, should they try to go after them. They used to come out in broad daylight,two or three together, and now and then a shepherd, so the saying went, used to talk and chat with them. Sometimes, moreover, he fell over head and ears in love with their damsels, but they did not readily allow a mortal to touch them. The time they were to be seen in their greatest glee was at night when the moon was full, when they celebrated a merry night (noswaith lawen). At midnight to the minute, they might be seen rising out of the ground in every combe and valley; then, joining hands, they would form into circles, and begin to sing and dance with might and main until the cock crew, when they would vanish. Many used to go to look at them on those nights, but it was dangerous to go too near them, lest they should lure the spectator into their circle; for if that happened, they would throw a charm over him, which would make him invisible to his companions, and he would be detained by the fairies as long as he lived. At times some people went too near to them, and got snatched in; and at other times a love-inspired youth, fascinated by the charms of one of their damsels, rushed in foolhardily to try to seize one of them, and became instantly surrounded and concealed from sight. If he could be got out before the cock crew he would be no worse; but once the fairies disappeared without his having been released, he would never more be seen in the land of the living. The way to get the captured man out was to take a long stick of mountain ash (pren criafol), which two or more strong men had to hold with one of its ends in the middle of the circle, so that when the man came round in his turn in the dance he might take hold of it, for he is there bodily though not visible, so that he cannot go past without coming across the stick. Then the others pull him out, for the fairies, no more than any other spirit, dare touch the mountain ash.

We now proceed to give some of Mr. Jones’ legends. The first is one which he published in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 70, whence the following free translation is made of it:—

‘In the north-west corner of the parish of Beđgelert there is a place which used to be called by the old inhabitants the Land of the Fairies, and it reaches from Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ along the slope of the mountain of Drws y Coed as far as Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The old people of former times used to find much pleasure and amusement in this district in listening every moonlight night to the charming music of the fair family, and in looking at their dancing and their mirthful sports. Once on a time, a long while ago, there lived at upper Drws y Coed a youth, who was joyous and active, brave and determined of heart. This young man amused himself every night by looking on and listening to them. One night they had come to a field near the house, near the shore of Ỻyn y Dywarchen, to pass a merry night. He went, as usual, to look at them, when his glances at once fell on one of the ladies, who possessed such beauty as he had never seen in a human being. Her appearance was like that of alabaster; her voice was as agreeable as the nightingale’s, and as unruffled as the zephyr in a flower-garden at the noon of a long summer’s day; and her gait was pretty and aristocratic; her feet moved in the dance as lightly on the grass as the rays of the sun had a few hours before on the lake hard by. He fell in love with her over head and ears, and in the strength of that passion—for what is stronger than love!—he rushed, when the bustle was at its height, into the midst of the fair crowd, and snatched the graceful damsel in his arms, and ran instantly with her to the house. When the fair family saw the violence used by a mortal, they broke up the dance and ran after hertowards the house; but, when they arrived, the door had been bolted with iron, wherefore they could not get near her or touch her in any way; and the damsel had been placed securely in a chamber. The youth, having her now under his roof, as is the saying, endeavoured, with all his talent, to win her affection and to induce her to wed. But at first she would on no account hear of it; on seeing his persistence, however, and on finding that he would not let her go to return to her people, she consented to be his servant if he could find out her name; but she would not be married to him. As he thought that was not impossible, he half agreed to the condition; but, after bothering his head with all the names known in that neighbourhood, he found himself no nearer his point, though he was not willing to give up the search hurriedly. One night, as he was going home from Carnarvon market, he saw a number of the fair folks in a turbary not far from his path. They seemed to him to be engaged in an important deliberation, and it struck him that they were planning how to recover their abducted sister. He thought, moreover, that if he could secretly get within hearing, he might possibly find her name out. On looking carefully around, he saw that a ditch ran through the turbary and passed near the spot where they stood. So he made his way round to the ditch, and crept, on all fours, along it until he was within hearing of the family. After listening a little, he found that their deliberation was as to the fate of the lady he had carried away, and he heard one of them crying, piteously, “O Penelop, O Penelop, my sister, why didst thou run away with a mortal!” “Penelop,” said the young man to himself, “that must be the name of my beloved: that is enough.” At once he began to creep back quietly, and he returned home safely without having been seen by the fairies.When he got into the house, he called out to the girl, saying, “Penelop, my beloved one, come here!” and she came forward and asked, in astonishment, “O mortal, who has betrayed my name to thee?” Then, lifting up her tiny folded hands, she exclaimed, “Alas, my fate, my fate!” But she grew contented with her fate, and took to her work in earnest. Everything in the house and on the farm prospered under her charge. There was no better or cleanlier housewife in the neighbourhood around, or one that was more provident than she. The young man, however, was not satisfied that she should be a servant to him, and, after he had long and persistently sought it, she consented to be married, on the one condition, that, if ever he should touch her with iron, she would be free to leave him and return to her family. He agreed to that condition, since he believed that such a thing would never happen at his hands. So they were married, and lived several years happily and comfortably together. Two children were born to them, a boy and a girl, the picture of their mother and the idols of their father. But one morning, when the husband wanted to go to the fair at Carnarvon, he went out to catch a filly that was grazing in the field by the house; but for the life of him he could not catch her, and he called to his wife to come to assist him. She came without delay, and they managed to drive the filly to a secure corner, as they thought; but, as the man approached to catch her, she rushed past him. In his excitement, he threw the bridle after her; but, who should be running in the direction of it, but his wife! The iron bit struck her on the cheek, and she vanished out of sight on the spot. Her husband never saw her any more; but one cold frosty night, a long time after this event, he was awakened from his sleep by somebody rubbing the glass of his window, and, after he had givena response, he recognized the gentle and tender voice of his wife saying to him:—

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.

It is said that the descendants of this family still continue in these neighbourhoods, and that they are easy to be recognized by their light and fair complexion. A similar story is related of the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, in Ỻanfihangel y Pennant, and it used to be said that most of the inhabitants of that neighbourhood were formerly of a light complexion. I have often heard old people saying, that it was only necessary, within their memory, to point out in the fair at Penmorfa any one as being of the breed of theTylwyth, to cause plenty of fighting that day at least.’

The reader may compare with this tale the following, for which I have to thank Mr. Samuel Rhys Williams, whose words I give, followed by a translation:—

Yr oeđ gwr ieuanc o gymydogaeth Drws y Coed yn dychwelyd adref o Beđgelert ar noswaith loergan ỻeuad; pan ar gyfer Ỻyn y Gader gwelai nifer o’r boneđigesau a elwir y Tylwyth Teg yn myned trwy eu chwareuon nosawl. Swynwyd y ỻanc yn y fan gan brydferthwch y rhianod hyn, ac yn neiỻduol un o honynt. Coỻođ y ỻywodraeth arno ei hunan i’r fath rađau fel y penderfynođ neidio i’r cylch a dwyn yn ysbail iđo yr hon oeđ wedi myned a’i galon mor ỻwyr. Cyflawnođ ei fwriad a dygođ y foneđiges gydag ef adref. Bu yn wraig iđo, a ganwyd plant iđynt. Yn đamweiniol, tra yn cyflawni rhyw orchwyl, digwyđođ iđo ei tharo a haiarn ac ar amrantiad diflannođ ei anwylyd o’i olwg ac nis gwelođ hi mwyach, ond đarfod iđi đyfod at ffenestr ei ystafeỻ wely un noswaith ar ol hyn a’i annog i fod yn dirion wrth y plant a’i bod hi yn aros gerỻaw y tyyn Ỻyny Dywarchen. Y mae y trađodiad hefyd yn ein hysbysu đarfod i’r gwr hwn symud i fyw o Đrws y Coed i Ystrad Betws Garmon.

‘A young man, from the neighbourhood of Drws y Coed, was returning home one bright moonlight night, from Beđgelert; when he came opposite the lake called Ỻyn y Gader, he saw a number of the ladies known as theTylwyth Teggoing through their nightly frolics. The youth was charmed at once by the beauty of these ladies, and especially by one of them. He so far lost his control over himself, that he resolved to leap into the circle and carry away as his spoil the one who had so completely robbed him of his heart. He accomplished his intention, and carried the lady home with him. She became his wife, and children were born to them. Accidentally, while at some work or other, it happened to him to strike her with iron, and, in the twinkling of an eye, his beloved one disappeared from his sight. He saw her no more, except that she came to his bedroom window one night afterwards, and told him to be tender to the children, and that she was staying, near the house, in the lake called Ỻyn y Dywarchen. The tradition also informs us that this man moved from Drws y Coed to live at Ystrad near Bettws Garmon.’

The name Ỻyn y Dywarchen, I may add, means the Lake of the Sod or Turf: it is the one with the floating island, described thus by Giraldus, ii. 9 (p. 135):—Alter enim insulam habet erraticam, vi ventorum impellentium ad oppositas plerumque lacus partes errabundam. Hic armenta pascentia nonnunquam pastores ad longinquas subito partes translata mirantur.‘For one of the two lakes holds a wandering island, which strays mostly with the force of the winds impelling it to the opposite parts of the lake. Sometimes cattle grazing on it are,to the surprise of the shepherds, suddenly carried across to the more distant parts.’ Sheep are known to get on the floating islet, and it is still believed to float them away from the shore. Mr. S. Rhys Williams, it will be noticed, has given the substance of the legend rather than the story itself. I now proceed to translate the same tale as given in Welsh inCymru Fu(pp. 474–7 of the edition published by Messrs. Hughes and Son, Wrexham), in a very different dress—it is from Glasynys’ pen, and, as might be expected, decked out with all the literary adornments in which he delighted. The language he used was his own, but there is no reason to think that he invented any of the incidents:—‘The farmer of Drws y Coed’s son was one misty day engaged as a shepherd on the side of the mountain, a little below Cwm Marchnad, and, as he crossed a rushy flat, he saw a wonderfully handsome little woman standing under a clump of rushes. Her yellow and curly hair hung down in ringed locks, and her eyes were as blue as the clear sky, while her forehead was as white as the wavy face of a snowdrift that has nestled on the side of Snowdon only a single night. Her two plump cheeks were each like a red rose, and her pretty-lipped mouth might make an angel eager to kiss her. The youth approached her, filled with love for her, and, with delicacy and affection, asked her if he might converse with her. She smiled kindly, and reaching out her hand, said to him, “Idol of my hopes, thou hast come at last!” They began to associate secretly, and to meet one another daily here and there on the moors around the banks of Ỻyn y Gader; at last, their love had waxed so strong that the young man could not be at peace either day or night, as he was always thinking of Bella or humming to himself a verse of poetry about her charms. The yellow-haired youth was now andthen lost for a long while, and nobody could divine his history. His acquaintances believed that he had been fascinated: at last the secret was found out. There were about Ỻyn y Dywarchen shady and concealing copses: it was there he was wont to go, and the she-elf would always be there awaiting him, and it was therefore that the place where they used to meet got to be calledỺwyn y Forwyn, the Maiden’s Grove. After fondly loving for a long time, it was resolved to wed; but it was needful to get the leave of the damsel’s father. One moonlight night it was agreed to meet in the wood, and the appointment was duly kept by the young man, but there was no sign of the subterranean folks coming, until the moon disappeared behind the Garn. Then the two arrived, and the old man at once proceeded to say to the suitor: “Thou shalt have my daughter on the condition that thou do not strike her with iron. If thou ever touch her with iron, she will no longer be thine, but shall return to her own.” The man consented readily, and great was his joy. They were betrothed, and seldom was a handsomer pair seen at the altar. It was rumoured that a vast sum of money as dowry had arrived with the pretty lady at Drws y Coed on the evening of her nuptials. Soon after, the mountain shepherd of Cwm Marchnad passed for a very rich and influential man. In the course of time they had children, and no happier people ever lived together than their parents. Everything went on regularly and prosperously for a number of years: they became exceedingly wealthy, but the sweet is not to be had without the bitter. One day they both went out on horseback, and they happened to go near Ỻyn y Gader, when the wife’s horse got into a bog and sank to his belly. After the husband had got Bella off his back, he succeeded with much trouble in getting the horse out, and thenhe let him go. Then he lifted her on the back of his own, but, unfortunately, in trying quickly to place her foot in the stirrup, the iron part of the same slipped, and struck her—or, rather, it touched her at the knee-joint. Before they had made good half their way home, several of the diminutiveTylwythbegan to appear to them, and the sound of sweet singing was heard on the side of the hill. Before the husband reached Drws y Coed his wife had left him, and it is supposed that she fled to Ỻwyn y Forwyn, and thence to the world below to Faery. She left her dear little ones to the care of her beloved, and no more came near them. Some say, however, that she sometimes contrived to see her beloved one in the following manner. As the law of her country did not permit her to frequent the earth with an earthly being, she and her mother invented a way of avoiding the one thing and of securing the other. A great piece of sod was set to float on the surface of the lake, and on that she used to be for long hours, freely conversing in tenderness with her consort on shore; by means of that plan they managed to live together until he breathed his last. Their descendants owned Drws y Coed for many generations, and they intermarried and mixed with the people of the district. Moreover, many a fierce fight took place in later times at theGwyl-fabsantat Dolbenmaen or at Penmorfa, because the men of Eifionyđ had a habit of annoying the people of Pennant by calling them Bellisians.’

In a note, Glasynys remarks that this tale is located in many districts without much variation, except in the names of the places; this, however, could not apply to the latter part, which suits Ỻyn y Dywarchen alone. With this account of the fairy wife frequenting a lake island to converse with her husband on shore, compare the Irish story of the Children of Lir, who, thoughtransformed into swans, were allowed to retain their power of reasoning and speaking, so that they used to converse from the surface of the water with their friends on the dry land: see Joyce’sOld Celtic Romances, pp. x, 1–36. Now I return to another tale which was sent me by Mr. William Jones: unless I am mistaken it has not hitherto been published; so I give the Welsh together with a free translation of it:—

Yr oeđ ystori am fab Braich y Dinas a adrođai y diweđar hybarch Elis Owen o Gefn y Meusyđ yn ỻed debyg i chwedl mab yr Ystrad gan Glasynys, sef iđo hudo un o ferched y Tylwyth Teg i lawr o Foel Hebog, a’i chipio i mewn i’r ty drwy orthrech; ac wedi hynny efe a’i perswadiođ i ymbriodi ag ef ar yr un telerau ag y gwnaeth mab yr Ystrad. Ond clywais hen foneđiges o’r enw Mrs. Roberts, un o ferched yr Isaỻt, oeđ lawer hyn na Mr. Owen, yn ei hadrođ yn wahanol. Yr oeđ yr hen wreigan hon yn credu yn nilysrwyđ y chwedl, oblegid yr oeđ hi ‘yn cofio rhai o’r teulu, waeth be’ đeudo neb.’ Dirwynnai ei hedau yn debyg i hyn:—Yn yr amser gynt—ond o ran hynny pan oeđ hi yn ferch ifanc—yr oeđ ỻawer iawn o Dylwyth Teg yn trigo mewn rhyw ogofau yn y Foel o Gwm Ystradỻyn hyd i flaen y Pennant. Yr oeđ y Tylwyth hwn yn ỻawer iawn harđach na dim a welid mewn un rhan araỻ o’r wlad. Yr oeđynt o ran maint yn fwy o lawer na’r rhai cyffredin, yn lan eu pryd tu hwnt i bawb, eu gwaỻt yn oleu fel ỻin, eu ỻygaid yn loyw leision. Yr oeđynt yn ymđangos mewn rhyw le neu gilyđ yn chwareu, canu ac ymđifyru bob nos deg a goleu; a byđai swn eu canu yn denu y ỻanciau a’r merched ifainc i fyned i’w gweled; ac os byđent yn digwyđ bod o bryd goleu hwy a ymgomient a hwynt, ond ni adawent i un person o liw tywyỻ đod yn agos atynt, eithr cilient ymaith o fforđ y cyfryw un. Yrŵan yr oeđ mab Braich y Dinas yn ỻanc harđ, heini, bywiog ac o bryd glan, goleu a serchiadol. Yr oeđhwn yn hoff iawn o edrych ar y Tylwyth, a byđai yn cael ymgom a rhai o honynt yn aml, ond yn bennaf ag un o’r merched oeđ yn rhagori arnynt oỻ mewn glendid a synwyr; ac o fynych gyfarfod syrthiođ y đau mewn cariad a’u gilyđ, eithr ni fynai hi ymbriodi ag ef, ond ađawođ fyned i’w wasanaeth, a chydunođ i’w gyfarfod yn Mhant—nid wyf yn cofio yr enw i gyd—drannoeth, oblegid nid oeđ wiw iđi geisio myned gydag ef yn ngwyđ y ỻeiỻ. Feỻy drannoeth aeth i fynu i’r Foel, a chyfarfyđođ y rhian ef yn ol ei hađewid, ag aeth gydag ef adref, ac ymgymerođ a’r swyđ o laethwraig, a buan y dechreuođ popeth lwyđo o dan ei ỻaw: yr oeđ yr ymenyn a’r caws yn cynhyđu beunyđ. Hir a thaer y bu’r ỻanc yn ceisio ganđi briodi. A hi a ađawođ, os medrai ef gael aỻan ei henw. Ni wyđai Mrs. Roberts drwy ba ystryw y ỻwyđođ i gael hwnnw, ond hynny a fu, a daeth ef i’r ty un noswaith a galwođ ar ‘Sibi,’ a phan glywođ hi ei henw, hi a aeth i lewygfa; ond pan đaeth ati ei hun, hi a ymfođlonođ i briodi ar yr amod nad oeđ ef i gyffwrđ a hi a haiarn ac nad oeđ boỻt haiarn i fod ar y drws na chlo ychwaith, a hynny a fu: priodwyd hwynt, a buont fyw yn gysurus am lawer o flynyđoeđ, a ganwyd iđynt amryw blant. Y diweđ a fu fel hyn: yr oeđ ef wedi myned un diwrnod i dori baich o frwyn at doi, a tharawođ y cryman yn y baich i fyned adref; fel yr oeđ yn nesu at y gadlas, rhedođ Sibi i’w gyfarfod, a thaflođ ynteu y baich brwyn yn đireidus tu ag ati, a rhag iđo đyfod ar ei thraws ceisiođ ei atal a’i ỻaw, yr hon a gyffyrđođ a’r cryman; a hi a điflannođ o’r golwg yn y fan yn nghysgod y baich brwyn: ni welwyd ac ni chlywyd dim ođiwrthi mwyach.

‘There was a story respecting the son of the farmer of Braich y Dinas, which used to be told by the late respected Mr. Ellis Owen, of Cefn y Meusyđ, somewhat in the same way as that about the Ystrad youth, as told by Glasynys; that is to say, the young man enticed oneof the damsels of the fair family to come down from Moel Hebog, and then he carried her by force into the house, and afterwards persuaded her to become his wife on the same conditions as the heir of Ystrad did. But I have heard an old lady called Mrs. Roberts, who had been brought up at Isaỻt, and who was older than Mr. Owen, relating it differently. This old woman believed in the truth of the story, as “she remembered some of the family, whatever anybody may say.” She used to spin her yarn somewhat as follows:—In old times—but, for the matter of that, when she was a young woman—there were a great many of the fair family living in certain caves in the Foel from CwmStráỻyn5down to the upper part of Pennant. ThisTylwythwas much handsomer than any seen in any other part of the country. In point of stature they were much bigger than the ordinary ones, fair of complexion beyond everybody, with hair that was as light as flax, and eyes that were of a clear blue colour. They showed themselves in one spot or another, engaged in playing, singing, and jollity every light night. The sound of their singing used to draw the lads and the young women to look at them; and, should they be of clear complexion, the fairies would chat with them; but they would let no person of a dark hue come near them: they moved away from such a one. Now the young man of Braich y Dinas was a handsome, vigorous, and lively stripling of fair, clear, and attractive complexion. He was very fond of looking at the fair family, and had a chat with some of them often,but chiefly with one of the damsels, who surpassed all the rest in beauty and good sense. The result of frequently meeting was that they fell in love with one another, but she would not marry him. She promised, however, to go to service to him, and agreed to meet him at Pant y—I have forgotten the rest of the name—the day after, as it would not do for her to go with him while the others happened to be looking on. So he went up the next day to the Foel, and the damsel met him according to her promise, and went with him home, where she took to the duties of a dairymaid. Soon everything began to prosper under her hand; the butter and the cheese were daily growing in quantity. Long and importunately did the youth try to get her to marry him. She promised to do so provided he could find out her name. Mrs. Roberts did not know by what manœuvre he succeeded in discovering it, but it was done, and he came into the house one night and called to “Sibi,” and when she heard her name she fainted away. When, however, she recovered her consciousness, she consented to marry on the condition that he was not to touch her with iron, and that there was not to be a bolt of iron on the door, or a lock either. It was agreed, and they were married; they lived together comfortably many years, and had children born to them. The end came thus: he had gone one day to cut a bundle of rushes for thatching, and planted the reaping-hook in the bundle to go home. As he drew towards the haggard, Sibi ran out to meet him, and he wantonly threw the bundle of rushes towards her, when she, to prevent its hitting her, tried to stop it with her hand, which touched the reaping-hook. She vanished on the spot out of sight behind the bundle of rushes, and nothing more was seen or heard of her.’

Mr. Ellis Owen, alluded to above, was a highly respected gentleman, well known in North Wales for his literary and antiquarian tastes. He was born in 1789 at Cefn y Meusyđ near Tremadoc, where he continued to live till the day of his death, which was January 27, 1868. His literary remains, preceded by a short biography, were published in 1877 by Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc; but it contains no fairy tales so far as I have been able to find.

A tale which partially reminds one of that given by Dewi Glan Ffrydlas respecting the Corwrion midwife, referred to at p. 63 above, was published by Mr. W. Jones in the fourth volume of theBrython, p. 251: freely rendered into English, it runs thus:—

‘Once on a time, when a midwife from Nanhwynan had newly got to the Hafođyđ Brithion to pursue her calling, a gentleman came to the door on a fine grey steed and bade her come with him at once. Such was the authority with which he spoke, that the poor midwife durst not refuse to go, however much it was her duty to stay where she was. So she mounted behind him, and off they went, like the flight of a swallow, through Cwmỻan, over the Bwlch, down Nant yr Aran, and over the Gader to Cwm Hafod Ruffyđ, before the poor woman had time even to say Oh! When they reached there, she saw before her a magnificent mansion, splendidly lit up with such lamps as she had never seen before. They entered the court, and a crowd of servants in expensive liveries came to meet them, and she was at once led through the great hall into a bed-chamber, the like of which she had never seen. There the mistress of the house, to whom she had been fetched, was awaiting her. The midwife got through her duties successfully, and stayed there until the lady had completely recovered, nor had she spent any part of herlife so merrily, for there nought but festivity went on day and night: dancing, singing, and endless rejoicing reigned there. But merry as it was, she found that she must go, and the nobleman gave her a large purse, with the order not to open it until she had got into her own house. Then he bade one of his servants escort her the same way that she had come. When she reached home she opened the purse, and, to her great joy, it was full of money: she lived happily on those earnings to the end of her life.’

With this ending of the story one should contrast Dewi Glan Ffrydlas’ tale to which I have already alluded; and I may here refer to Mr. Sikes’British Goblins, pp. 86–8, for a tale differing from both Dewi’s and Jones’, in that the fairies are there made to appear as devils to the nurse, who had accidentally used a certain ointment which she was not to place near her own eyes. Instead of being rewarded for her services she was only too glad to be deposited anyhow near her home. ‘But,’ as the story goes on to relate, ‘very many years afterwards, being at a fair, she saw a man stealing something from a stall, and, with one corner of her eye, beheld her old master pushing the man’s elbow. Unthinkingly she said, “How are you, master? how are the children?” He said, “How did you see me?” She answered, “With the corner of my left eye.” From that moment she was blind of her left eye, and lived many years with only her right.’ Such is the end of this tale given by Mr. Sikes.

‘But the fair family did not,’ Mr. William Jones goes on to say, ‘always give mortals the means of good living: sometimes they made no little fun of them. Once on a time the Drws y Coed man was going home from Beđgelert Fair, rather merry than sad, along the old road over the Gader, when he saw, on coming nearthe top of the Gader, a fine, handsome house near the road, in which there was a rare merrymaking. He knew perfectly well that there was no such a building anywhere on his way, and it made him think that he had lost his way and gone astray; so he resolved to turn into the house to ask for lodgings, which were given him. At once, when he entered, he took it to be a nuptial feast (neithior) by reason of the jollity, the singing, and the dancing. The house was full of young men, young women, and children, all merry, and exerting themselves to the utmost. The company began to disappear one by one, and he asked if he might go to bed, whereupon he was led to a splendid chamber, where there was a bed of the softest down with snow-white clothes on it. He stripped at once, went into it, and slept quietly enough till the morning. The first thing to come to his mind when he lay half asleep, half awake, was the jollity of the night before, and the fact of his sleeping in a splendid chamber in the strange house. He opened his eyes to survey his bedroom, but it was too wide: he was sleeping on the bare swamp, with a clump of rushes as his pillow, and the blue sky as his coverlet.’

Mr. Jones mentions that, within his memory, there were still people in his neighbourhood who believed that the fairies stole unbaptized children and placed their own in their stead: he gives the following story about the farmer’s wife of Dyffryn Mymbyr, near Capel Curig, and her infant:—

Yr oeđ y wraig hon wedi rhođi genedigaeth i blentyn iach a heinif yn nechreu y cynheuaf ryw haf blin a thymhestlog: ac o herwyđ fod y tyđyn getyn o fforđ ođiwrth lan na chapel, a’r hin mor hynod o lawiog, esgeuluswyd bedyđio y plentyn yn yr amser arferol, sef cyn ei fod yn wyth niwrnod oed. Ryw điwrnod teg ynnghanol y cynheuaf blin aeth y wraig aỻan i’r maes gyda’r rhelyw o’r teulu i geisio achub y cynheuaf, a gadawođ y baban yn cysgu yn ei gryd o dan ofal ei nain, yr hon oeđ hen a methiantus, ac yn anaỻuog i fyned lawer o gwmpas. Syrthiođ yr hen wreigan i gysgu, a thra yr oeđ hi feỻy, daeth y Tylwyth i fewn, a chymerasant y baban o’r cryd, a dodasant un araỻ yn ei le. Yn mhen ennyd dechreuođ hwn erain a chwyno nes deffro y nain, ac aeth at y cryd, ỻe y gwelođ gleiriach hen eiđil crebachlyd yn ymstwyrian yn flin. ‘O’r wchw!’ ebai hi, ‘y mae yr hen Dylwyth wedi bod yma;’ ac yn đioed chwythođ yn y corn i alw y fam, yr hon a đaeth yno yn điatreg; a phan glywođ y crio yn y cryd, rhedođ ato, a chodođ y bychan i fynu heb sylwi arno, a hi a’i cofleidiođ, a’i suođ ac a’i swcrođ at ei bronnau, ond nid oeđ dim yn tycio, parhau i nadu yn đidor yr oeđ nes bron a hoỻti ei chalon; ac ni wyđai pa beth i wneud i’w đistewi. O’r diweđ hi a edrychođ arno, a gwelođ nad oeđ yn debyg i’w mhebyn hi, ac aeth yn loes i’w chalon: edrychođ arno drachefn, ond po fwyaf yr edrychai arno, hyỻaf yn y byd oeđ hi yn ei weled; anfonođ am ei gwr o’r cae, a gyrrođ ef i ymholi am wr cyfarwyđ yn rhywle er mwyn cael ei gynghor; ac ar ol hir holi dywedođ rhywun wrtho fod person Trawsfynyđ yn gyfarwyđ yn nghyfrinion yr ysprydion; ac efe a aeth ato, ac archođ hwnnw iđo gymeryd rhaw a’i gorchuđio a halen, a thori ỻun croes yn yr halen; yna ei chymeryd i’r ystafeỻ ỻe yr oeđ mab y Tylwyth, ac ar ol agor y ffenestr, ei rhođi ar y tan hyd nes y ỻosgai yr halen; a hwy a wnaethant feỻy, a phan aeth yr halen yn eiriasboeth fe aeth yr erthyl croes ymaith yn anweledig iđynt hwy, ac ar drothwy y drws hwy a gawsant y baban araỻ yn iach a dianaf.

‘This woman had given birth to a healthy and vigorous child at the beginning of the harvest, one wretched andinclement summer. As the homestead was a considerable distance from church or chapel, and the weather so very rainy, it was neglected to baptize the child at the usual6time, that is to say, before it was eight days old. One fine day, in the middle of this wretched harvest, the mother went to the field with the rest of the family to try to save the harvest, and left her baby sleeping in its cradle in its grandmother’s charge, who was so aged and decrepit as to be unable to go much about. The old woman fell asleep, and, while she was in that state, theTylwyth Tegcame in and took away the baby, placing another in its stead. Very shortly the latter began to whine and groan, so that the grandmother awoke: she went to the cradle, where she saw a slender, wizened old man moving restlessly and peevishly about. “Alas! alas!” said she, “the oldTylwythhave been here”; and she at once blew in the horn to call the mother home, who came without delay. As she heard the crying in the cradle, she ran towards it, and lifted the little one without looking at him; she hugged him, put him to her breast, and sang lullaby to him, but nothing was of any avail, as he continued, without stopping, to scream enough to break her heart; and she knew not what to do to calm him. At last she looked at him: she saw that he was not like her dear little boy, and her heart was pierced with agony. She looked at him again, and the more she examined him the uglier he seemed to her. She sent for her husband home from the field, and told him to search for a skilled man somewhere or other; and, after a long search, he was told by somebody that the parson of Trawsfynyđ was skilled in the secrets of the spirits;so he went to him. The latter bade him take a shovel and cover it with salt, and make the figure of the cross in the salt; then to take it to the chamber where the fairy child was, and, after taking care to open the window, to place the shovel on the fire until the salt was burnt. This was done, and when the salt had got white hot, the peevish abortion went away, seen of no one, and they found the other baby whole and unscathed at the doorstep.’ Fire was also made use of in Scotland in order to detect a changeling and force him to quit: see the British Association’sReport, 1896, p. 650, where Mr. Gomme refers to Mr. Gregor’sFolk-lore of the North-east of Scotland, pp. 8–9.

In answer to a question of mine with regard to gossamer, which is called in North Walesedafeđ gwawn, ‘gwawnyarn,’ Mr. Jones told me in a letter, dated April, 1881, that it used to be calledRhaffau’r Tylwyth Teg, that is to say, the Ropes of the Fair Family, which were associated with the diminutive, mischievous, and wanton kind of fairies who dwelt in marshy and rushy places, or among the fern and the heather. It used to be said that, if a man should lie down and fall asleep in any such a spot, the fairies would come and bind him with their ropes so that he could not move, and that they would then cover him with a sheet made of their ropes, which would make him invisible. This was illustrated by him by the following tale he had heard from his mother:—

Clywais fy mam yn adrođ chwedl am fab y Ffriđ, yr hwn wrth đychwelyd adref o ffair Beđgelert yn rhywle ođeutu Pen Cae’r Gors a welođ beth afrifed o’r Tylwyth Bach yn neidio a phrancio ar bennau y grug. Efe a eisteđođ i lawr i edrych arnynt, a daeth hun drosto; ymoỻyngođ i lawr a chysgođ yn drwm. A phan oeđ feỻy, ymosodođ yr hoỻ lu arno a rhwymasant ef mor dyn felna aỻasai symud; yna hwy a’i cuđiasant ef a’r tuđed gwawn fel na aỻai neb ei weled os digwyđai iđo lefain am help. Yr oeđ ei deulu yn ei đisgwyl adref yn gynnar y nos honno, ac wrth ei weled yn oedi yn hwyr, aethant yn anesmwyth am dano ac aethpwyd i’w gyfarfod, eithr ni welent đim ođiwrtho, ac aed gan beỻed a’r pentref, ỻe en hyspyswyd ei fod wedi myned tuag adref yn gynnar gyda gwr Hafod Ruffyđ. Feỻy aed tua’r Hafod i edrych a oeđ yno; ond dywedođ gwr yr Hafod eu bod wedi ymwahanu ar Bont Glan y Gors, pawb tua’i fan ei hun. Yna chwiliwyd yn fanwl bob ochr i’r fforđ ođiyno i’r Ffriđ heb weled dim ođiwrtho. Buwyd yn chwilio yr hoỻ ardal drwy y dyđ drannoeth ond yn ofer. Fođ bynnag ođeutu yr un amser nos drannoeth daeth y Tylwyth ac a’i rhyđhasant, ac yn fuan efe a đeffrôđ wedi cysgu o hono drwy y nos a’r dyđ blaenorol. Ar ol iđo đeffro ni wyđai amcan daear yn mha le yr oeđ, a chrwydro y bu hyd ochrau y Gader a’r Gors Fawr hyd nes y canođ y ceiliog, pryd yr adnabu yn mha le yr oeđ, sef o fewn ỻai na chwarter miỻtir i’w gartref.

‘I have heard my mother relating a tale about the son of the farmer of the Ffriđ, who, while on his way home from Beđgelert Fair, saw, somewhere near Pen Cae’r Gors, an endless number of the diminutive family leaping and capering on the heather tops. He sat him down to look at them, and sleep came over him; he let himself down on the ground, and slept heavily. When he was so, the whole host attacked him, and they bound him so tightly that he could not have stirred; then they covered him with the gossamer sheet, so that nobody could see him in case he called for help. His people expected him home early that evening, and, as they found him delaying till late, they got uneasy about him. They went to meet him, but no trace of him was seen,and they went as far as the village, where they were informed that he had started home in good time with the farmer of Hafod Ruffyđ. So they went to the Hafod to see if he was there; but the farmer told them that they had parted on Glan y Gors Bridge to go to their respective homes. A minute search was then made on both sides of the road from there to the Ffriđ, but without finding any trace of him. They kept searching the whole neighbourhood during the whole of the next day, but in vain. However, about the same time the following night theTylwythcame and liberated him, and he shortly woke up, after sleeping through the previous night and day. When he woke he had no idea where on earth he was; so he wandered about on the slopes of the Gader and near the Gors Fawr until the cock crew, when he found where he was, namely, less than a quarter of a mile from his home.’

The late Mr. Owen, of Cefn Meusyđ, has already been alluded to. I have not been able to get at much of the folklore with which he was familiar, but, in reply to some questions of mine, Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc, his biographer, and the publisher of theBrython, so long as it existed, has kindly ransacked his memory. He writes to me in Welsh to the following effect:—

‘I will tell you what I heard from Mr. Owen and my mother when I was a lad, about fifty-seven years ago. The former used to say that the people of Pennant in Eifionyđ had a nickname, to wit, that ofBelsiaid y Pennant, “the Bellisians of the Pennant”; that, when he was a boy, if anybody called outBelsiaid y Pennantat the Penmorfa Fair, every man jack of them would come out, and fighting always ensued. The antiquary used to explain it thus. Some two or three hundred years ago, Sir Robert of the Nant, one of Sir Richard Bulkeley’s ancestors, had a son and heir who was extravagantand wild. He married a gipsy, and they had children born to them; but, as the family regarded this marriage as a disgrace to their ancient stem, it is said that the father, the next time the vagabonds came round, gave a large sum of money to the father of the girl for taking her away with him. This having been done, the rumour was spread abroad that it was one of the fairies the youth had married, and that she had gone with him to catch a pony, when he threw the bridle at the beast to prevent it passing, and the iron of the bridle touched the wife; then that she at once disappeared, as the fairies always do so when touched with iron. However, the two children were put out to nurse, and the one of them, who was a girl, was brought up at Plas y Pennant, and her name wasPelisha7; her descendants remain to this day in the Nant, and are called Bellis, who are believed there, to this day, to be derived from theTylwyth Teg. Nothing offends them more than to be reminded of this.’

Mr. R. I. Jones goes on to relate another tale as follows:—

Dywedir fod ỻe a elwir yr Hafod Rugog mewn cwm anial yn y mynyđ ỻe y byđai y Tylwyth Teg yn arferol a mynychu; ac y byđent yn trwblio’r hen wraig am fenthyg rhywbeth neu gilyđ. Dywedođ hithau, ‘Cewch os caniatewch đau beth cyntaf—i’r peth cyntaf y cyffyrđaf ag ef wrth y drws dorri, a’r peth cyntaf y rhof fy ỻaw arno yn y ty estyn hanner ỻath.’ Yr oeđ carreg afael, fel ei gelwir, yn y mur wrth y drws ar ei fforđ, ac yr oeđ ganđi đefnyđ syrcyn gwlanen yn rhy fyr o hanner ỻath. Ond yn anffodus wrth đod a’i chaweỻad mawn i’r ty bu agos iđi a syrthio: rhoes ei ỻaw ar ben ei chlun i ymarbed a thorođ honno, a chan faint y boen cyffyrđođ yny ty a’i thrwyn yr hwn a estynnođ hanner ỻath.

‘It is said that there was a place called Hafod Rugog in a wild hollow among the mountains, where the fair family were in the habit of resorting, and that they used to trouble the old woman of Hafod for the loan of one thing and another. So she said, one day, “You shall have the loan if you will grant me two first things—that the first thing I touch at the door break, and that the first thing I put my hand on in the house be lengthened half a yard.” There was a grip stone (carreg afael), as it is called, in the wall near the door, which was in her way, and she had in the house a piece of flannel for a jerkin which was half a yard too short. But, unfortunately, as she came, with her kreel full of turf on her back, to the house, she nearly fell down: she put her hand, in order to save herself, to her knee-joint, which then broke; and, owing to the pain, when she had got into the house, she touched her nose with her hand, when her nose grew half a yard longer.’

Mr. Jones went on to notice how the old folks used to believe that the fairies were wont to appear in the marshes near Cweỻyn Lake, not far from Rhyd-Đu, to sing and dance, and that it was considered dangerous to approach them on those occasions lest one should be fascinated. As to the above-mentioned flannel and stone a folklorist asks me, why the old woman did not definitely mention them and say exactly what she wanted. The question is worth asking: I cannot answer it, but I mention it in the hope that somebody else will.

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