On leaving the warehouse one evening, soon after his return from Wales, Mr. Roberts remarked, “You must dine with us to-morrow, Mr. Wynn, and my old friend Jones will accompany you. He has already arranged to form one of our party, and I am glad for my own sake and yours that we shall have the pleasure of his society. He is one of the best men I know in this huge city.”
As soon as the ladies had retired, Mr. Roberts pushed the bottle to Mr. Jones, with the observation, “This is your favourite wine, and please to make yourself as free with it as you’re welcome. I think Mr. Wynn and you, my son, prefer sherry. I’ll try port, which is my favourite drink.”
After a general conversation on the general topics of the day, Mr. Roberts turned to Mr.Jones, and said that he thanked him most gratefully for having pleaded so eloquently the claims of his young friend, Wynn. “You will doubtless remember, Jones, that I was most unwilling to receive him into the establishment, in the first place on his own account; secondly, I did not consider mine a proper place for a young gentleman of his social position. You, however, urged his claims, and considering our personal friendship, and my previous connection with the Wynn family, I at last reluctantly yielded to your wishes, though in doing so I was perfectly aware that I should create in the mind of McLiver hostile feelings to myself and Cadwgan there. I little expected that my cashier’s objection would spring from conviction of wrongdoing. I believed in his integrity, and had confidence in his honesty; and as he apparently served me faithfully I was prepared to yield to some extent to his wishes, though he was well aware of my unbending disposition when once I had resolved to carry a particular point. McLiver having discovered my resolve to be Mr. Wynn’s friend, I mustown that he did not oppose my wishes to the extent I at first anticipated.
“Now from the first day on which Mr. Wynn entered upon his duties, I am bound to say that I found him plodding, persevering, and honest; his first and chief concern being to promote my interest. In this, he set us all an example we should do well to copy.
“To the proceedings of the other day—a day which to me will be ever memorable, I will not allude further than to express a hope that I have Cadwgan’s complete pardon for having for once suspected his dishonesty. And this is a fitting occasion for me to thank you, Jones, for the deep interest you have shown in my affairs in connection with our young friend. Had Cadwgan not done what he did, the scoundrel’s rascality would in all probability have effected my ruin. But how came you, Mr. Wynn, to suspect his dishonesty?”
“My tale, sir, is soon told,” remarked Cadwgan. “From time to time little things cropped up in connection with business transactions and in the accounts, the appearance ofwhich I did not at all like. To my mind there was satisfactory and conclusive evidence that the man was not dealing honourably by you, and that you were a victim of his dishonesty. You must bear in mind this, I had but a suspicion. I could not prove that what I suspected was actual and real.
“Being in a state of doubt, I really did not know what to do. I could not suggest my suspicion to you because the person was in your confidence. After thinking over the matter some days and nights I resolved to sound my fellow-clerks, Messrs. Sykes and Williams, for I knew I could depend on them. Strange to say they had long suspected his guilt, but were afraid to give expression to their opinion, because Mr. McLiver appeared all-powerful.
“After a conference we agreed to get up evidence. We ascertained he was living at the rate of £2000 or £3000 a year, though he had no income but his salary. We found, too, that he paid for all goods when ordered. On making further inquiry we discovered that his cousin Donald, though he had a smallersalary than I had, spent several pounds weekly in dissipation.
“Then the constant visits of relatives who are employed in similar establishments in the city, and the worthless stuff sent from the houses where they were engaged, these things awakened in my mind the strongest suspicion that the parties were conspiring together to rob you and their employers.
“As the books were all in McLiver’s hands and under his control, we could do nothing; but when you appointed me to the post of accountant, Mr. Sykes, Mr. Williams, and myself resolved to ascertain if our suspicion was well founded. During the past three months we have given the whole of our spare time during the day to the past five years’ accounts, while we seldom left the office until late at night. The result of our labours you know. I fancy one of the clerks in my department must have told McLiver what we were doing, and doubtless his guilt awoke in his mind a sense of the dangerous position in which he had placed himself. Then in order if possibleto crush me before the work was done, he and his cousin Donald concocted the charge against me—themselves being the robbers. I do not for a moment think they wished my punishment. What they did desire was to secure my expulsion from your establishment, that thus their malpractices might possibly remain undetected.”
“But where are his relations employed, Mr. Wynn?” asked Mr. Roberts.
“Mr. McNab, his uncle, is cashier to the Chinese Tea Company, and his brother is with Morant & Hogsflesh.”
“Do you really believe these parties were confederates?”
“No doubt of it, sir.”
“In that case what would you advise?”
“In justice to yourself and the high reputation of your house, it is your duty to furnish them with the whole of our discovered facts. It is important they should be informed of their servants’ dishonesty.”
“By gad, Mr. Wynn, I’ll advise their punishment; and if their employers won’t do it, I will.”
“I am afraid that your advice will be too late.”
“How so, Cadwgan?”
“Both have already fled to the Continent. It appears that they, like McLiver, helped themselves to their employers’ money before they went.”
“But how did they find out McLiver was in prison, Mr. Wynn?”
“Some one of your servants or clerks must have carried the news to them.”
“We’ll get the scoundrels back, cost what it will. To-morrow the officers of justice shall fly in pursuit. We’ll find them somewhere.”
“No doubt, sir, they deserve severe punishment, though I am sorry for McNab, because he has a large family, and in punishing him you will punish his innocent wife and children.”
“They, Mr. Wynn, shall not come to want. While resolving to punish the guilty, I’ll see to the interests of the guiltless.”
“Give me your hand, friend Roberts,” said Mr. Jones. “You are a noble fellow; yourheart is in the right place; and I’ll join you in so holy a work.”
“I must now turn,” said Mr. Roberts, “to a more pleasant theme. It has been by you, Mr. Wynn, I have been saved from ruin. You have business talents of a high order. I would trust you with untold gold. You have proved your fidelity and tact under circumstances the most trying. In our relationship I plainly see the finger of Heaven. I now plainly see that it is my interest no less than your own that our relationship should be closer than it has hitherto been. The business, as you are aware, is wholly my own. Thank Heaven, I possess all the wealth I desire. However, I love work, and at present I’m not quite prepared to throw off the harness. I shall do so, however, in a few years. In view of that day I think it well to prepare for it. I have therefore resolved to take into partnership my son Rhys and you, and we’ll take equal profits. The money in the business I shall regard as a set-off against your ability and talent, and when I go out I will leave in yourjoint hands the capital necessary for successfully carrying on the concern. Are you prepared, Mr. Wynn, to accept my offer?”
“With deep gratitude and thanks I do indeed accept your offer, Mr. Roberts. I shall never be able to repay you for your goodness and kindness. To me you have been always kind, always generous, ever noble and disinterested. To Mr. Jones and you I owe my present position and the prospects before me. My gratitude, sir, I shall carry with me to the grave.”
“I rejoice,” remarked Mr. Jones, who had hitherto been an almost silent listener, “to see this day, and I shall pray Heaven that the sun of prosperity may ever continue to shine on your concern, and that never an incident may occur calculated to disturb the kindly feeling and mutual confidence between you, friend Roberts, and your new partners.”
“To that, Jones, I say amen. Still I think there is not much danger on that score. We all know each other; that’s an important point. Unless my suspicions are wrong, whichI think is not likely, that roving son of mine has managed to fall in love; and I warn you, Mr. Wynn, especially if you desire your sister to become your little housekeeper, to take care of her. If you don’t do so, his siege on her heart’s citadel will prove, I fear, successful. Well, I forgive him for making love without his father’s permission; and you, Mr. Wynn, must pardon him too.”
* * * * *
“Now, Mr. Wynn, in view of our new arrangements, what alterations would you propose in the conduct of the business, bearing this in mind, that you will have to undertake the purchase of all goods?”
“In that case, Mr. Roberts, I recommend your appointing Mr. Williams to the office I now fill. He is a relative of yours, and is a thoroughly competent man. Then Mr. Sykes would succeed McLiver. His honesty and integrity are beyond question. Had it not been for their able assistance, I should never have succeeded in unravelling the mysteries of your affairs.”
“Your proposal, Mr. Wynn, does infinite credit to your sagacity. Let the arrangements be carried out at once. The deed of partnership has already been prepared, and now awaits your signature. My son signed it before he left on his recent tour.”
Under the new management, the company of Roberts, Wynn & Roberts, grew mightily. From one end of the kingdom to the other their teas were in great repute. They had for their patrons royal princes and the nobles of the land. The demand grew year after year, and the increased sale brought large additional profits. During the fifth year of the partnership, these profits amounted to £45,000, though Mr. Wynn did not take above £750, one half of which he sent his aunt and sister for their use. Cadwgan had during those five years put by £55,000.
The day previous to the return of Mr. Wynn and young Roberts to town, they went out alone for a stroll. They took the road leading to Pont Aberglaslyn, and as both gentlemen were excellent pedestrians, they soon arrived at that exquisitely beautiful glen. When on the bridge, they gazed in silence for some minutes on the dark mad water beneath. After some minutes’ silence, Mr. Wynn asked his friend if he had previously visited the glen.
“Yes; I have been here once, Cadwgan.”
“Don’t you think it’s a charming spot?”
“In my judgment, Cadwgan, this is the grandest scene in all Wales.”
“Then you prefer it to Bettws-y-Coed?”
“I do. This place has a charm for me which that sylvan vale has not.”
“So it has for me, my friend.The meandering river flowing down this valley, the high hills on either side of the glen, the stupendous and overhanging rocks, with a thousand different colours, foliage, trees, shrubs, and mosses, with grand old Snowdon in the distance: these, and early recollections and associations, have rendered this place dearer to me than all other scenes in my dear native land. I am glad that our views of this delectable valley are identical, though I cannot convey to you the depth of my emotion in contemplating the scene.”
“Cadwgan,” replied Mr. Roberts, “the spot on which I now stand is as dear to me as my life. You have been my adviser, my counsellor, my friend—ay, more than a brother to me. Oh, advise me how to act! I confessed here to your sister my love, and offered her my hand and heart. I asked her to become mine; but oh, Cadwgan, she rejected my offer!”
“Did she, that is, my sister, give any reason for declining your offer?”
“Indeed she did not.”
“Did she tell you she was engaged already?”
“Nay; she told me she was free.”
“Did you ask her for an immediate answer?”
“Yes.”
“What was her reply?”
“That she could not be mine.”
“Then she gave you no other reason?”
“No, no, Cadwgan; but was not that enough? Since then I’ve been the most miserable of men. Oh, you must dissuade her from acting towards me so cruelly.”
“I am glad, Roberts, my sister acted as she did, though I deeply regret the pain her refusal has occasioned you. I blame you for confessing your love, though I do not blame you for feeling admiration for my dear sister.”
“I take it, Cadwgan, you are not favourable to my suit.”
“So far from being unfavourable, my dear Roberts, I will confess to you that I know of no one whom I should so like to have for a brother as yourself.”
“Then you are willing for me to renew my suit hereafter?”
“Most willing.”
“But you have expressed your approval of your sister’s rejection of my suit?”
“Yes.”
“You are incomprehensible to me. Pray explain yourself, my dear Cadwgan.”
“I’ll do so in a few words. Before I can permit my dear sister to entertain your proposal, your father must be fully informed of your intention. His views of such an alliance might be very different from yours. He might wish you to marry the daughter of a wealthy city merchant, therefore he would regard your proposal as foolish and imprudent.”
“Cadwgan, you do my dear father great injustice. He has an abundance of wealth. He would be the last man to make my marriage a matter of money speculation. I know better than you can his feelings, and am sure that, in a matter so momentous, his first consideration would be my happiness.”
“I have no doubt but such are your father’s feelings; still, as I am but a clerk in his establishment, I can’t permit you to address my sister until his consent is given fully and freely.”
“Well, knowing your high character and scruples, I must tell you that I have taken steps in order to anticipate your objection.”
“I hope you have not written Mr. Roberts?”
“Indeed I have, Cadwgan.”
“I’m very sorry; you really should have waited.”
“Nay, nay, I couldn’t wait.”
“Has your father replied?”
“Yes; his answer came this morning.”
“I suppose he has ordered your immediate return home?”
“Oh no. I’m to stay another week if I like.”
“Well, has he given you his consent for you to propose to my dear sister?”
“Yes; I have his hearty approval.”
“Then my sister was not aware of this when you offered her your hand?”
“Certainly not. My father’s letter came this morning.”
“Have you informed her of your father’s feeling in the matter?”
“No. I delayed doing so until I spoke to you.”
“I’m glad you have kept the information from Gwenfan. But she must not be kept in ignorance longer than can be helped; and since you have opened your mind freely to me, I may as well tell you that at the proper time and after I have consulted your father, she is prepared to accept your hand. As her brother and guardian, I will then, my dear Roberts, give her to you. I know you will watch over her with the deepest affection and solicitude. In this matter I have only one request to make, which I am sure will be readily granted. Will you promise?”
“To me, dear friend, you will is law.”
“My request is a simple one, namely, that your marriage be deferred for a time?”
“You are too cruel to defer the day of my being made perfectly happy.”
“But for your and her sake I think there should be reasonable delay. It is true your father is a rich man, but for the present you are simply a son of a city prince. Possibly he might give you £1000 a year, but I should like to see you in business yourself before you settledown. Then my dear sister is young: only little over eighteen years. Three or four years is not long to wait.”
“For the present I will not argue the point with you, you will learn that I am not in the position you fancy I am. I cannot explain myself further now, but when we return to town, you, dear Cadwgan, will know all. Others will reveal facts to you which I am bound to keep secret.”
“Well, well, we’ll talk on this matter again. We must now return to the Villa, and make our arrangements for our immediate return to London. Early to-morrow morning we must leave, otherwise we shall arrive at the warehouse on the day our leave expires.”
During the evening, Mr. Roberts and Gwenfan had a long conversation. When he returned to the library to join Cadwgan, he whispered, “It is all settled; I’m now happy.”
In the following August, Miss Wynn and her aunt paid a long visit to London. During their stay, they were frequent visitors at Mr. Roberts’ urban mansion. The more he saw ofthe gentle, quiet, and lovely Gwenfan, the more he liked her; and when the time came when those loving hearts were to be made one, he took his son’s and future daughter’s hands in his, saying, “Be true to each other; and you, my son, guard this beautiful Cambrian plant, for I am persuaded she is worth her weight in gold. You, Rhys, have made a wise choice, I would rather have Gwenfan for my daughter than a princess of the royal blood. May Heaven bless your union!”
We now pass over a brief period of history. Mr. Roberts had now ceased to be a partner in the firm. From the date of Mr. Wynn joining the firm until Mr. Roberts’ retirement, the house had prospered year after year. The partners became wealthy men, were of high repute in the city, and Mr. Wynn, who was considered the soul of the business, was looked up to as a man almost unequalled for business talents, while his word was regarded as law by all with whom he had any mercantile transactions.
Of Mr. Roberts’ intended retirement, Mr.Wynn knew nothing until the very morning it was carried out. When they met in the former’s private office, he asked,—
“How many years, Mr. Wynn, has our partnership lasted?”
“Five years, sir.”
“How long have you been with me?”
“Ten years to-day, sir, I entered your service.”
“Oh, how rapidly the time passes! Well I have to thank my heavenly Father for having directed your footsteps here. You have proved yourself a faithful friend, since the date of our partnership. By your tact, judgment, business habits, industry, and integrity, you have raised our house to the highest commercial position. You are almost as dear to me, Cadwgan, as if you were my own child.”
“From you,” replied Mr. Wynn, “I have received the greatest kindness and consideration. To me you have been a second father. No parent could have shown a deeper interest in a son than you have shown in me.”
“As you are now a rich man, Cadwgan, why don’t you seek a wife. I’m sure you would be a better and happier man?”
“I have, Mr. Roberts, anticipated your wish.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Cadwgan, though you surprise me. I was not aware of your having fixed your heart on any young lady. I hope she is worthy of you.”
“From you, sir, I keep nothing. The lady is Miss Jones; she has accepted my offer, and her parents have given their consent to our union.”
“I’m glad to hear this, for your sake and hers. Jones is a capital fellow, and his daughter is a noble girl. She has in her own right a splendid fortune, and her father must be a rich man. She will make you an excellent wife. Her fortune is in the funds, and if necessary you could turn it to immediate account. I hope you will get back the old place.
“Now, Mr. Wynn, as you have told me your secret, I see no reason why I should withhold from you mine. I, too, am aboutto contract a marriage; I do not find it good to be alone; I am going to be wedded to my first love. Strange to say, her name is Wynn. Do you know any lady in your parts of North Wales of that name?”
“Indeed, sir, I don’t at present recollect any lady of the name of Wynn.”
“Try, Cadwgan, and remember. My impression is you must remember; she is acquainted with you.”
“Surely, Mr. Roberts, you don’t refer to my aunt?”
“I do though. Are you willing to give her to me?”
“Most willing, sir, as far as I am concerned.”
“Then you are pleased at the prospect of a closer connection between us? You have placed me in possession of your feeling. Now please give me the reason of its existence?”
“That I will do, sir, in a few words. Though she is my aunt, and the only relative I have in the world, except my dear sister, I must say that she is one of the kindest and bestof women. I am sure she will make you happy. But, sir, I did not know you had ever seen my aunt until she came to visit me in London?”
“Miss Wynn was my earliest love. I proposed to her, but her brother, your dear father, objected to our union. I left for London immediately afterwards, got married, settled down in business, but from the day of my departure until her visit to you we never met. Mr. Jones was fully aware of the circumstance of my being rejected. It was, indeed, the fact of my proposal of which Jones took advantage to plead so persistently for you when he wished you to come here. Little did I know then what a noble boy you were, what a treasure I was to have in you. But let that pass: I have one favour to ask you. Will you grant it?”
“Yes, sir, to the extent of every penny I possess.”
“Will you consent to be married on the same day as myself? And we will arrange that Rhys and your sister shall also beunited on the occasion. Next, will you sign that parchment, without asking any question, or examining its contents? you can make yourself acquainted with the particulars hereafter.”
“Heartily I say yes, to your questions.”
“My dear boy, I thank you from my heart of hearts for your goodness and confidence. The document contains a dissolution of partnership so far as I am concerned. You, and your future brother are now the owners of everything here.”
“Mr. Roberts,” replied Cadwgan, with tears in his eyes, “how can I ever repay you for so noble and so generous an act?”
“My dear boy, you have already repaid me with your grateful tear, by your ten years of faithful services, and by the splendid gift of your aunt. There is the ledger, which you can scan at leisure. You will find the facts fully set forth. Here is a mortgage deed for £50,000,—a sum which simply represents your share of the profits of the business during the period of our partnership. The other mortgagee is your intended father-in-law, who has investedhis daughter’s fortune in the same property as her trustee and guardian. The two sums amount to £115,000, which are secured on your paternal estate, Wynn Castle. On the day of your marriage, the estate, which has been greatly improved since your poor father’s death, will be conveyed to you as sole owner, by cancelling those deeds. How this matter has been arranged it is not necessary for you to know. I rejoice beyond measure in your being about to take possession of your lost inheritance, and to regain it by means so honourable to yourself. My prayer shall be that Heaven will bless you with health and prosperity, and that you may long live to enjoy it. I have now done my day’s work, so for the present must wish you good morning. We shall soon meet again.”
But few additional words are necessary to complete this history. In a few months after the above interview, Mr. Roberts, Mr. Roberts junior, and Cadwgan were married to the ladies of their choice.
During a portion of each summer, Mr. andMrs. Cadwgan Wynn, and Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, senior and junior spent several weeks at Wynn Castle, where Mr. and Mrs. Owen Jones had taken up their permanent abode. The various tenants on the estate rejoiced in possessing such an excellent landlord, but their joy was unbounded on the morning the news reached them of the birth of a son and heir. On the return to the castle after this event, his tenantry presented him with an address, to which he replied as follows:—
“Friends and neighbours,—After many years of exile from the land of my birth and the home of my father’s sepulchre, I feel it my first duty to return my gratitude to Him who guides and directs the destiny of us all, for having in His good and merciful providence again directed my footsteps to the land of my love and my warmest affection. Twelve years to day I went out in the wide world, poor and almost penniless. I resolved, with Heaven’s help, to succeed, that is if success could be achieved by honesty, integrity, and plodding. After wandering about London forseveral days, I found myself one summer evening on London Bridge, faint, anxious, and sick, with but a few shillings in my pocket. Just as I was about to settle down to sleep on the cold stone, a good Welsh Samaritan who was passing by had compassion on the forlorn one, and took me to his home. Strange to say, his noble daughter fell in love with me, poor and friendless though I was. That lady is my wife and the mother of my son. I might tell you that her love for dear old Cambria is as deep and as intense as is her love for her offspring. Moreover, her heart is full of sympathy for the sons and daughters of human suffering wherever found, and she will consider it not only a pleasure but a duty to visit and administer consolation and solace to the distressed in this beautiful valley. But, says my friend on my right, you must not remain idle; you have work to do. My dear friend, the Rev. Thomas Charles, who is an honour to our country, is doing much for the intellectual, moral, and religious welfare of the people. You ought to supporthis efforts by every means in your power. Him I will aid with my purse and influence. I hope in this effort we shall be united, conformists and nonconformists, joining hand in hand and heart with heart, so that our people may become an intelligent and religious people. To bring about such a glorious consummation is the chief desire of my soul. I have only one more word to add, that is to thank you for your beautiful address. Be assured that I and my wife will endeavour to earn your good opinion. We will try to promote your commercial welfare, and with it your highest interest.”
* * * * *
McLiver in due time was brought before the bar of justice, and his guilt having been clearly established, was banished the kingdom. After undergoing ten years of punishment in Van Diemen’s Land, he obtained his release, and settled down in one of the Australian colonies as a small farmer. His uncle and cousin were finally apprehended, and being found guilty were transported.Donald was allowed to go free, as his guilt could not be legally established. Some years afterwards Mr. Wynn learned that he was engaged in the fish trade in one of the Orkney Islands.
“Not a tree,A llyn, a leaf, a blossom, but containsA folio volume. We may read, and read,And read again, and still find something new.”
“Not a tree,A llyn, a leaf, a blossom, but containsA folio volume. We may read, and read,And read again, and still find something new.”
Respecting Llyn Savathan, which also bears the several names of Lake Brecheinoc, Brecinaumere, Llangorse, and Talyllyn Pool, Giraldus relates that in the reign of Henry I., Gruffydd, son of Rhys ap Theodor, held under the king one comot, namely, the fourth part of the cantref of Caoc, in the cantref Mawr. When Gruffydd, on his return from the king’s court, passed near this lake, which at this cold season of the year was covered with wild fowl ofvarious sorts, being accompanied by Milo, Earl of Hereford and Lord of Brecon, and Payn FitzJohn, Lord of Ewyas, who at that time were secretaries and privy counsellors to the King, Earl Milo, wishing to draw from Gruffydd some discourse concerning his innate nobility, rather jocularly than seriously thus addressed him: “It is an ancient saying in Wales, that if the natural prince of the country, coming to this lake, shall order the birds to sing, they will immediately obey him.” To which Gruffydd replied, “Do you, therefore, who now hold the dominion of this land, first give the command.” But he and Payn, having in vain commanded, and Gruffydd perceiving that it was necessary for him to do so in his turn, dismounted from his horse, and falling on his knees towards the east, as if he had been about to engage in battle, prostrate on the ground, with his eyes and hands uplifted to heaven, poured forth devout prayers to the Lord; and at length rising up, and signing his face and forehead with the figure of the cross, thus openly spake, “Almighty God, and Lord Jesus Christ, whoknowest all things, declare here, this day, Thy power. If Thou hast caused me to descend lineally from the natural princes of Cambria, I command these birds, in Thy name, to declare it.” And immediately, beating the waters with their wings, the birds began to cry aloud and proclaim him. The spectators were astonished and confounded; and Earl Milo, with FitzJohn, hastily returned to court, and related this singular occurrence to Henry, who is said to have replied, “By the death of Christ, it is not a matter of so much wonder; for although by our great authority we commit acts of violence and wrong against these people, yet they are known to be the rightful inheritors of this land.”
Long previous to the time to which the tradition of Giraldus relates, the place occupied by Llyn Savathan formed a beautiful and picturesque valley, through which the waters of the Llewenny meandered and flowed gently along in their progress towards the Wye. On the left bank of the Llynfi, and within half a mile of its channel, there stood the church of Llangasty, which was dedicated to Saint Gasty, an eminent British saint who flourished in the fifth century, and was murdered on the Van Mountain, in the parish of Merthyr Cynog. On the other side of the Llynfi, and nearly opposite the church, there stood a magnificent palace, belonging to and occupied by a tyrannical prince, who neither feared God nor regarded man, who scorned religion, and loathed everything which was pure and good and beautiful; a prince who, by the magnitude of his extortions and therelentlessness with which he pursued his unfortunate vassals, became the object of hate and intense aversion to all who had dealings or came in contact with him. Moreover, as he grew older, his extortions became more burdensome, while his tyranny increased in its fury, notwithstanding the warnings he received from those who desired the perpetuation of his reign. To all those warnings he turned a deaf ear, while he punished with the utmost rigour those who sought to thwart him in his infamous practices.
It was a cold December morning, when Father Olyver, of Llangasty, repaired to the palace in order to condole with the prince on the death of a son. On entering the reception-room, and finding the prince alone, he thus addressed him—
“My heart grieves and is sad, my prince, at the loss you have sustained. Another prop of your house has been taken away, and oh, reflect, I pray, on your present mode of life; consider your ways and be wise.”
“Cease thy babbling, Father Olyver,” repliedthe prince. “ D— it, man, all must die. The death of another son, thou senseless priest, only diminishes my responsibility as a father, and now I shall have more to leave to the survivors.”
“Pray, don’t speak thus, my lord, of your child. The fruit of your loins should ever be regarded with affection.”
“I loved the boy when living, Father Olyver. But now, man, he has ceased to live; the spirit, the soul, has gone; a clod of earth only remains.”
“Be it so, my lord. Yet I must own that I look on his untimely end as a terrible warning to you. The event tells you to set your house in order, for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh.”
“All right, Father Olyver. I suppose, when He comes, I must go like the rest, in spite of the saints and mother Church.”
“But are you prepared, my prince, when the voice calls?”
“Of course I am, father. Let his majesty come whenever he pleases, I’ll accompany him.”
“Are you ready, my dear prince, to appear, without fear, before your God when He calls you hence?”
“There are beautiful maidens, too, father, before whom I must and delight to appear, after my evening’s carousals! Ah! ah! ah! I’ll be bound that even you, Father Olyver, with your sanctimonious jib, are not indifferent to the smiles of a pretty wench, and you won’t turn away when you happen to have a glimpse of a fine ankle. Human nature is human nature all the world over. I warrant priests of mother Church don’t always keep it in subjection. Oh! Oh!”
“This is not the time, nor is it a fitting occasion, my lord, to indulge in such language,” replied the priest. “For one day, at least, especially in the presence of the dead, I beseech you to cease speaking thus.”
“Why should I, man, refrain from telling the truth even now? Bedad, I’ve hit the right nail on the head this time at any rate.”
“For the present, however, I shall regard your charge of me and my orders in silence. I have come here to perform the last rites ofthe Church over the dead. The day to me is one of unusual solemnity. I loved your son as if he had been my own child. He was a good and pious youth, notwithstanding the evil influences by which he was surrounded. But he is gone, and the place that knew him shall know him no more. And now, my lord, what hour have you fixed for carrying his remains to that silent bourne from whence no traveller ever comes back?”
“We propose to bury at five; and after the funeral I have, Father Olyver, a grand banquet in my palace, and we anticipate a merry meeting.”
“And cannot you, my lord, give up folly and pleasure for a single day? Can’t you devote one evening to pursuits which harmonize with the solemnity of the day? You have received from time to time, and year after year, the most terrible warnings, yet you heed them not. You hear the sound of the trumpet, to which you have paid no attention. If you continue to live as you have lived, my dear prince—if you resolve, come what will,to steel your heart, and defy the Almighty,—the day is not far distant when the wrath of an angry God will descend upon you and yours, and on that day—rather on that dark and dismal night—the sword of His justice will descend, and the innocent and the guilty shall perish together. I now leave you, my prince, but in a few hours we shall meet again at the grave of departed virtue, and something tells me that when we then part it will be a parting for ever.”
At the time appointed the funeral cortège arrived at Llangasty. The young prince was buried with extraordinary pomp. When the service was concluded, Father Olyver went up and pressed the hand of the prince, and bidding him good-bye, whispered in his ear, “Remember, my lord, the warning voice: it has spoken once, twice, ay, thrice; the next time it will speak in thunder and lightning, when the earth shall move and reel like a drunken man. So now, farewell. I fear we shall never meet again.”
The good priest then turned away fromprince and people. He re-entered the church for evening song, while the prince and the mourners returned to the palace to make merry and be glad. Before they arrived home, the day had disappeared, and the night had come. Darkness had settled down upon the earth. When they entered the palace, they little dreamt of being on the very brink of a precipice over which they would be hurled by the fiat of the Eternal.
The palace of the Prince of Llynfi was characterized by drunkenness and vice, dissipation and sensuality, intemperance and debauchery. Virtue had no lodgment there. Righteousness had no habitation there. Justice, religion, and truth were wholly absent from the palace of the prince. He and his family gave themselves up to pleasure, to riotous living, and to revellings; and from day to day, week to week, and month to month, they lived as if there was no God—no hereafter—no judgment to come! Moreover, they had so sunk in sin and iniquity, that they were quite insensible to those feelings which are common and general, and indeed universal, in the lowest state of humanity. Flower after flower of the family circle had withered and died, or had been plucked from the tree of life by the will of the Almighty, yet from the heart of thesurvivors there never escaped a sigh; never a tear was shed; their hearts had become a flinty rock, and were as insensible of impression as the Parian marble. Thus they lived: thus, too, they died; for at last they were cut down as cumberers of the ground.
Before the untimely death of the son, the prince had arranged for a grand banquet to take place on the very day his mortal remains were consigned to the tomb. During the progress of preparation for the funeral, preparations were also being made for the expected banquet. On their return from the church, many of the guests had already arrived and many more soon followed. By nine o’clock the palace was filled with a splendid array of the licentious male and female inhabitants of the villages in the surrounding country. According to old traditions, two renowned minstrels from a distance had been summoned to cheer them in their revels; and riot and disorder, such as had never before been witnessed even in that palace, resounded among the hills. The party had been many hours assembled: itwas midnight. In the midst of their revellings there was suddenly heard a crash of thunder, which shook the palace to its foundation; and this was immediately followed by louder and louder peals, which boomed through the valley as the noise of a thousand pieces of artillery. The prince and his riotous companions were awe-struck, and presently they heard a voice saying in deep, solemn tones, “Vengeance is at hand!” In a moment the two minstrels arose, and beholding in the air a mysterious hand beckoning to them, they fled after it as it retreated. The hand moved faster and faster, and as it moved they increased their speed. After they had gone a considerable distance the earth heaved violently, and appeared to totter on its foundations. For a moment they turned round to see the distance they had come. They saw the ground divide in twain, and up through this large chasm they beheld the waters rushing forth like the ocean when convulsed, and mingling with the roaring sound of the waters were the dying shrieks of the revellers. Pausing for another moment in theirflight, the minstrels observed, with great terror, a wide expanse of boiling and agitated waters where the palace and village had stood, engulfing the palace and its wicked and impious inmates far below its bosom. Since then, Llyn Savathan has ever been regarded as an unhallowed spot; the great wickedness of the prince and his followers having drawn upon them the just judgment of the Eternal.
“The lifeless tears she shed into a fountain turn,And, that for her alone the water should not mourn,The pure vermilion blood that issued from her veinsUnto this very day the pearly gravel stains,As erst the white and red were mixèd in her cheek.And that one part of her might be the other like,Her hair was turned to moss, whose sweetness doth declare,In liveliness of youth the natural sweets she bare.”Michael Drayton.
“The lifeless tears she shed into a fountain turn,And, that for her alone the water should not mourn,The pure vermilion blood that issued from her veinsUnto this very day the pearly gravel stains,As erst the white and red were mixèd in her cheek.And that one part of her might be the other like,Her hair was turned to moss, whose sweetness doth declare,In liveliness of youth the natural sweets she bare.”
Michael Drayton.
When but a mere youth, I had a strong and extreme longing to visit Holywell, or Treffynnon, which according to my youthful fancy was the most wonderful place under the sun. This desire had its origin in the following circumstances.
About three miles from my paternal abode there was situate a small village, which had risen into fame and notoriety by reason of its annual May fair. At this fair an immense number of people congregated. Young men and maidenswere there. Farmers’ sons and daughters flocked in great numbers; and this being the annual hiring fair, hundreds of men and women servants went to find either new masters or fresh mistresses. Then from the neighbouring towns and villages, people came for the purpose of providing fun, amusement, and entertainment for the holiday seekers. Shows innumerable were there; Mr. Cheap Jack vending his wares, with which he combined interesting stories and flashes of wit, had thousands of willing and enchanted listeners, and a goodly number of ready purchasers. On the roadside from one end of the village to the other was a continuous row of stalls, laden with every conceivable variety of articles. All these marvellous things filled my boyish fancy with amazement and wonder.
But what struck me most, was a person who had a stall situate near the bridge, on which were placed in rows several thousands of small wooden boxes, which in circumference were about the size of a crown piece, and three quarters of an inch deep. These boxes hearranged with great deliberation and care, and when he completed his work, not a single box could be seen out of its proper place.
This person was fantastically dressed. He wore a three-cornered hat, the brim of which was tipped with gold. He had pink velvet breeches, with a waistcoat of similar material; red stockings, and shoes with silver buckles. His frock coat, made of good West of England broadcloth, had, in consequence of many years’ wear, become a dark blood colour. In his hat were placed two rows of feathers, arranged in the form of the Prince of Wales’ plume. He was certainly a most singular looking figure, and from the hour when he commenced to expatiate on the virtues of his wares until the dusk of the evening, attracted an immense audience.
When his preparations were finished, he took in his left hand one of the little boxes, from which he removed the lid, or cover, and commenced to address the crowd in the following fashion. “This box, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “contains wonderful ointment. It willcure the itch, the stitch, and nettle-rash. It is a sure remedy for all diseases of the skin. It will, when applied, remove warts from the fingers, corns from the toes, and bunions from the feet. It is an effectual cure for cuts, bruises, and for every kind of wounds. Time, ladies and gentlemen, would fail me to speak of its wonderful properties, and the history of cases it has cured would fill a dozen large volumes. Every man should therefore possess half a dozen boxes of this valuable salve. They should be placed in the nobleman’s palace, in every farm house, in every poor man’s cottage. The use of this wonderful ointment will save you many a long doctor’s bill, and, between you and me, doctors are doing their best to stop its sale, because one box of this salve is worth a hundred visits of the physician. People have paid lots of money to doctors without getting any benefit; they then came to me, and by using one box only, were made perfectly whole. This ointment is the grandest discovery of the age. It was found out, not by man’s skill, oh, no; but an angelcame from distant worlds and directed my sainted mother how to make it. The secret is with me, and it must remain with me; for were it known, its efficacy would disappear.
“You, ladies and gentlemen, would doubtless like to know the several constituent parts of this justly renowned ointment, but as I have already said, I dare not reveal the secret. The spirit of one who when on this earth was as pure as she was comely and beautiful, told the secret to my sainted mother. I refer to Saint Winifred, who was murdered twelve hundred years ago. From the spot on which she was beheaded, her head rolled down the declivity, and did not stop until it reached the altar of the church, and immediately there sprang up a spring of water, which in volume is unequalled in the world. The wonderful salve is not called after the saint, this her spirit forbade, but Eli Treffynnon, or Holywell salve. As I make it myself, I can offer to sell it at twopence per box, though doctors charge sixpence for a far inferior article. Twopence per box being the price, for which I charge no more nor will Itake less. Who will buy? who will buy? Now is your time, for I shall not visit these parts for twelve months.”
The people then rushed to the vendor of Eli Treffynnon, and in less than an hour he had disposed of more than a thousand boxes of the ointment.
“A wonderful man that, is he not?” said I to my companion.
“Yes, truly.”
Myself. Can you tell me where Treffynnon is?
“Not exactly,” replied my companion; “but it is in the north.”
Myself. In the north of England or Scotland, which?
“Oh, no, in neither; but in North Wales.”
Myself. Is it a town or a village?
“A town, I believe; but it is not a large place.”
Myself. Have you ever heard of the remarkable well before?
“Oh, yes. I’ve seen an account of it in an old book.”
Myself. If I knew the way, I would go and see this wonderful fountain.
“Don’t talk nonsense. Go two hundred miles to see a spring!”
Myself. Why not?
“Why? Because you can see plenty of fountains nearer home.”
Myself. But this is a well.
“Yes; a well to be sure. But don’t the waters of all rivers come from wells?”
Myself. Of course they do. But it requires a hundred wells to make up the Severn, the Wye, and the Ithon, but here is a large river from one well, one spring. I’ll certainly go one of these days and see it.
Many, many years, however, came, and passed away, before the design I then formed was carried out.
* * * * *
My first visit to Holywell, or Treffynnon, took place just about the close of the Crimean War. I arrived in the town late one evening in mid winter, but as the night was extremely dark, while the rain descended in torrents, I refrainedfrom leaving my hotel, the name of which I do not at present remember. It was then the principal inn of the town, with a first rate bill of fare.
Being a private gentleman, and therefore debarred from joining the commercials, breakfast was prepared for me in a snug little parlour which was generally used by the landlady as her private sitting-room. Before I had taken my seat at the breakfast, the waitress came into the room, all smiles, and asked me if I had any objection to a gentleman joining me at the morning meal.
“Who is the gentleman?” I asked the waitress.
“Oh, Squire Eli, of Ffynnon Hall.”
Myself. What kind of a person is he? Is he old or young, has he a hump on his back, and does he wear spectacles? is he a nice, good-tempered fellow, or sour as crab beer? Tell me, gentle maid, the kind of companion I am to be honoured with.
“Oh, sir, how you do talk. Squire is a nice, well-spoken gentleman; and I am sure you’ll like him.”
Myself. Show the gentleman up; but tell your mistress that she will be a loser by his introduction, because I generally eat twice as much in company as when alone.
Presently Mr. Eli made his appearance, and I expressed to him how greatly pleased I was at his honouring me with his presence.
He replied to my remarks in a very neat speech, and said he was delighted in the opportunity of making my acquaintance, having heard of me from a common friend.
Before rising from the table I said, “What a beautiful name you have selected for your seat!”
“Then do you know Welsh?”
Myself. I know a little; I wish I knew more. It is the grandest language under the sun.
“For expressiveness and eloquence and poetry, you are right.”
Myself. I presume you selected the name because you have a crystal fountain by the Hall?
“Oh, dear, no. There is a fountain it is true, but its existence in no way determined me to select the name; and, between us, I don’t thinkthere is a similar designation for a house in North or South Wales.”
Myself. Have you visited the south, Mr. Eli?
“Visited the South! Why, there is not a town or village in the six counties I’ve not been in. I know the country well.”
“Have you ever been at Bridgend, in the county of R.?”
“At Bridgend! Of course I have; many and many a time.”
Myself. If I’m not mistaken, I have seen you there.
“Probably you have; that is, if you ever attended its annual May fair.”
Myself. Then you are the man, the veritable vendor of Eli Treffynnon?
“Of course I am. I thought the waitress had duly informed you of that.”
Myself. No, no; but never mind. I’m delighted to see you. Your speech on your ointment awoke in my bosom an intense longing to see this place; and I’ve come almost specially to see for myself its wonders. I hope, therefore,Mr. Eli, you have no special engagement this morning.
“And suppose I have not?”
Myself. In that case I trust you will be my cicerone. I am extremely anxious to know the history and traditions of the wonderful well.
“I’ll accompany you with pleasure, and tell its wondrous history. When shall we start?”
Myself. Now, if you please.
Just as we reached the lower part of the principal street, we saw a man with measured steps approaching us. The man had a leathern strap fastened round his neck, at the other end of which was suspended a large bell, a cushion being buckled to the right knee. Every time the cushioned knee came forward the bell jingled, and it being of considerable size its tones could be heard a long distance from the scene of the man’s perambulations. When he came up to the place where we were standing, I asked Mr. Eli the question,—
“Is that man mad?”
“By no means: he is in his right mind.”
Myself. No sane man, I should think, would be guilty of such folly.
“The man,” replied Mr. Eli, “is doing a Christian duty.”
Myself. I fail to see any act of devotion in carrying a bell about the town. Please, Mr. Eli, explain yourself.
“You, a stranger, very naturally conclude the man is demented. When you know the object of his mission you will come to a different opinion.”
Myself. Pray, Mr. Eli, enlighten me.
“We have a church here, my dear sir.”
Myself. Yes.
“That church is situate in a hole at the head of a deep dell.”
Myself. But what has that to do with this man?
“This,” replied Mr. Eli; “we cannot, up the town, hear the church chimes, though we are not two hundred yards from them.”
Myself. But the man does not carry your church bells on his knee.
“Oh, dear me, no; but this man walks roundthe town just before divine service, and the ringing of his bell warns the people that it is time for them to go to church.”
Myself. A singular invention, certainly. Pity they built the church in such an outlandish place.
Mr. Eli. Oh, don’t say so. The church was built there by direction. It is close to the well of St. Winifred, the healing waters of which, as you are aware, are celebrated far and near.
Myself. Then the tales you and others tell about the efficacy of the waters of the fountain are really true?
“Yes, of course, they are perfectly true. When all is said and written about the waters, we can truly say that the half is not told.”
Myself. I should like to possess a true and authentic history of the place.
“Doubtless,” replied Mr. Eli, “you would. Its history has yet to be written.”
Myself. There is, then, evidence, Mr. Eli, that people who have bathed in its waters have been made whole?
“Yes; plenty of evidence,” replied Mr. Eli; “and if you will now accompany me to the well, I’ll show you some of the many witnesses.”
When we entered the building, my friend conducted me to a spot where we had a good view of the interior. He pointed with his finger to the roof, at the same time remarking, “Up there, look up there, for there is the evidence, the witnesses, to which I referred.”
Myself. Do you mean those barrows, hand carts, crutches, and staves, and other things too numerous to mention, fastened to the ceiling?
“Of course I do. Are they not irresistible witnesses to the healing power of these waters?”
Myself. I really fail to see your point, Mr. Eli. Pray explain yourself more fully.
“People come here,” said my friend, “from all parts of the world. Some come on wheel-barrows, some on crutches, some by the aid of walking-sticks; they bathe in these healing waters, like they did when our Lord was upon earth, and are cleansed. They leave here new men and women, and having no further need of either crutch or barrow, leave them behindas witnesses to the power of this wonderful fountain.”
Myself. You have greatly excited my curiosity, Mr. Eli. Pray furnish me with some information respecting the history of this place.
“You are heartily welcome to the facts and traditions I have been fortunate enough to succeed in collecting, which can be briefly told. They are as follows:—
“Once upon a time, that is, about twelve hundred and twenty-five years ago, this Treffynnon was a royal city, and then the king’s palace was within its precincts. The then reigning sovereign was Allen the First, and his dominion extended over the whole of the hundred of Coleshill, from the royal mines of which he derived a princely income. The king had a son of the name of Cradocus, a name which has led old writers to conclude that his mother was a daughter of some Roman, who, preferring this country to his own, and having espoused a British lady, settled down here.
“At the time of which I speak, there resided in Holywell a potent lord of the Trewith, whomarried Lady Wento, an only sister of Saint Beuno, descendants of an ancient and illustrious Montgomeryshire family. The only issue of this marriage was a daughter, a beautiful and lovely maiden, who was as pure as she was beautiful, whose name was Winifred.
“When she had grown up to be a young lady, her uncle, Saint Beuno, who resided at Clynnog, in Carnarvonshire, came on one occasion to this royal town to pay a friendly visit to his family. During his stay he obtained a grant of land from Lord Trewith, his brother-in-law, upon which he erected a church. Now the altar of that church was close by yon bubbling fountain.”
Myself. Have you historical proofs of this, Mr. Eli? I asked.
“You will see by-and-by the evidence upon which I rely.”
Myself. Pray proceed; your narrative is deeply interesting.
“After the erection of the church,” Mr. Eli continued, “Saint Beuno took under his charge his niece Winifred, who vowed to remain avirgin, and to devote her life to works of charity, mercy, and religion.
“On a lovely Sunday evening, on the 22nd of June, the Lady Winifred left her parents’ castle for the purpose of taking a walk in the cool of the day. When she attained the summit of the hill her progress was stayed by Prince Cradocus, who, being struck with her extreme beauty, at once made a proposal of marriage.
“‘Prince,’ replied Lady Winifred, ‘I can form no earthly ties. I have already vowed my life and wealth to the work of my Saviour.’
“‘But, noble and beautiful lady, I have sworn you shall be mine, and nothing shall prevent the fulfilment of my oath.’
“‘Your offer, illustrious prince, comes too late; my vow is irrevocable.’
“‘Pray, Lady Winifred, don’t say that. Your hand I am resolved to possess, and you shall share with me the throne of my ancestors.’
“‘For earthly thrones, prince, I care not; my treasures are not here but above.’
“‘If you persist, noble lady, in your refusal, I am resolved to effect my object by force.’
“‘You dare not do that, prince. You must not further molest me. Stand by, for I would proceed on my way.’
“Cradocus was vexed at being thus robbed of his prey, and getting into a fearful passion, took his sword from its sheath, and there and then,—oh, horror of horrors! cut off the head of the virgin. For his guilty act, vengeance from on high soon overtook him. On the spot where he committed the crime, he fell down a dead man, and the earth opening, swallowed his impious corpse.[260]There is, however, a tradition, that Cradocus’s master, the devil, carried off his body to the dismal regions of despair.
“Now about the well. I’ve told you, that it was on the hillside above here where Cradocus committed the foul deed. It appears that when the head was severed from the body it commenced to roll down the steep hill by which we descended, and stopped when it reached the altar, before which a number of devout people were kneeling. The very moment the head stopped there came up this fountain, the watersof which possess the same miraculous power as did those waters of the pool of Bethesda referred to in the Gospel of St. John.
“It appears Saint Beuno was the officiating priest at the altar when this sad event took place. Recognising the head as that of his beloved niece, he took it up, and ran with it to where the mangled body lay, to which he rejoined it. To the astonishment of all present, the head at once united itself to the body, the place of separation being only marked by a white ring or line, which extended round the neck. From that hour she was called Saint Winifred, and was always after regarded as a holy person, a special vessel chosen by Christ to do His work. After this event she lived fifteen years, and gained universal fame by her deeds of love and charity. Well, though more than twelve hundred years have come and gone since then, this fountain is as powerful to-day as it was then in healing and in curing diseases. Hundreds, aye, thousands, have blessed the day on which they bathed in this Iachâd Ffynnon—healing fountain. Now, my story is done.”
Myself. And a most interesting tale it is, Mr. Eli, for which I thank you very much. There is one more circumstance I wish to be informed of in order to have a complete history of the sainted lady.
“To what do you refer?” asked Mr. Eli.
Myself. I presume the lady died here.
“Oh yes; she died in her father’s mansion.”
Myself. In that case, I presume, her sepulchre is in your churchyard?
“Not so, my friend,” replied Mr. Eli.
Myself. Then she was not buried here?
“No, she was not interred here, and for this reason. Her uncle, Saint Beuno, died on the 21st of April, 660, and his remains were interred in the Abbey Church of Bardsey Island. On his death, Saint Winifred retired to Gwytheriu, and placed herself under the protection of St. Elerius, who at that time was living in devotional seclusion in that sequestered mountain village. At that time there was there a convent of nuns under the superintendence of Theonia. Saint Winifred assumed the veil, and on the death of Theonia became the abbess. On her death,the remains were removed from Treffynnon to Gwytheriu, and interred near the graves of St. Cybi and St. Sannan. After a lapse of five hundred years from the date of her death, the bones of St. Winifred were removed with great pomp to the church of St. Peter and St. Paul, Shrewsbury. The wooden chest in which the remains were preserved is still kept. The translation of the saint’s remains took place in the reign of King Stephen.”
Myself. It’s a pity that no monument to her memory has been erected here. Don’t you think so, Mr. Eli?
“I cannot share your opinion, my friend. This well and its wonderful cures are monuments which will live when Parian marble shall crumble into dust. But there is another monument. Observe,” said Mr. Eli, “the sweet scented moss which grows there by the well-side, theJungermannia esplenoidesof Linnæus. On each anniversary of the decollation of Saint Winifred, this moss, and the stones of the fountain, assume the colour of blood. This annual change in the tint of the moss is animmortal monument of the dear departed saint, as if it said:—
“For thee, blest maid, my tears, my endless pain,Shall in immortal monuments remain.The image of thy death each year renew,And prove my grief, to distant ages, true.”
“For thee, blest maid, my tears, my endless pain,Shall in immortal monuments remain.The image of thy death each year renew,And prove my grief, to distant ages, true.”
After making a general inspection of the well, and examining the grotesque figures of animals and other works of sculpture, my friend and I paid a brief visit to the chapel over the well. During our stay there, he placed in my hand a copy of the following letter, addressed by the queen of James II., to Sir Roger Mostyn.
“Sir Roger Mostyn,—“It having pleased the king, by his royal grant, to bestow upon me the ancient chapel adjoining St. Winifred’s Well, these are to desire you to give present possession, in my name, of the said chapel, to Mr. Thomas Roberts, who will deliver this letter into your hands. It being also my intention to have the place decently repaired, and put to a good use, I further desire that you will afford him your favour and protection, that he may not bedisturbed in the performance thereof. You may rest assured that what you do herein, according to my desire, shall be very kindly remembered by“Your good friend,“Mary Regina.“Whitehall,May8th, 1687.”
“Sir Roger Mostyn,—
“It having pleased the king, by his royal grant, to bestow upon me the ancient chapel adjoining St. Winifred’s Well, these are to desire you to give present possession, in my name, of the said chapel, to Mr. Thomas Roberts, who will deliver this letter into your hands. It being also my intention to have the place decently repaired, and put to a good use, I further desire that you will afford him your favour and protection, that he may not bedisturbed in the performance thereof. You may rest assured that what you do herein, according to my desire, shall be very kindly remembered by
“Your good friend,“Mary Regina.
“Whitehall,May8th, 1687.”
On leaving the chapel, I cordially thanked my friend for the information he had imparted respecting the Winifred legend; and told him, that some day I would try to make his name and his Eli Treffynnon as immortal as the saint whose history he had so eloquently told. But before my tale sees the light, my entertainer has gone to that bourne from whence no traveller returns; yet it may be,—who knows?—that his spirit still visits our world, and communes with dear ones and friends left behind.
View of Swansea in September, 1748