CHAPTER VI.

Twmprogresses at the opposition school. Flogging made easy. Out of the frying-pan into the fire. Sports at Whirligoogan.

The great success of Catty’s school excited the ill-will of parson Inco; although he had far more scholars than he could possibly attend to. His indignation at his wife’s fall from her horse into the well, while passing his humble rival’s seminary, together with the humiliating consideration that manyof the most juvenile deserted his rule, to submit to hers, wounded this consequential personage to the quick. Like the fox and the grapes, he sneered at that which was out of his reach, protested that the “room” of those scholars who had deserted him was much better than their company.

This new arrangement respecting Twm, they thought could not but be vexatious to Catty, and therefore Mistress Evans felt herself avenged for the tittering that she heard in her school, on her fall into the well as before mentioned. But far different was the case from what they anticipated, for Catty no sooner heard the order, than in the sincerity of her heart, she exclaimed, “Thank God! the boy will learn something from the parson, but I could teach him nothing.”

Little Twm was now in his seventh year, and as refractory a pupil as ever was spoiled by a dawdling mother. Kept aloof from his dear duck-ponds and puddles, and compelled to explore the mysteries of the horn-book, this first change in his life was acutely felt. Self-willed and stubborn, he conceived the utmost abhorrence of horn-books, cross curates, and birch-rods; he wept and sulked, struck the boys who mocked him, stayed away from school, and was flogged so often, that at length he found it much easier to learn his book than endure the consequence of neglecting it.

Once arrived at this happy mood, and being one day praised by his master, a new spirit possessed the boy; he resolved to revenge himself on those youths who formerly had made him their butt of ridicule, by getting the start of them in learning. The horn-book was soon thrown by; the Reading-made-easy and Spelling-book shared a similar fate; and the pride of a young heart sparkled in his eyes when his great lady aunt, on hearing a good account of him from his master, presented him with a bible, on the inside of the cover of which was the following couplet:—

“Take this Holy Bible book,God give thee grace therein to look.”

A specimen of poetry which was considered by everybody to be the index to a master-mind. Mount Parnassus was scaled, and that by an inhabitant of Tregaron! Poor Catty proudly showed the book and the poetry to all her neighbours, who sagely declared Mrs. Graspacre’s bounty and poetry equally fine.

Notwithstanding his rapid advancement in book learning, parson Evans was far from being satisfied with his pupil, nor was his main end answered in having brought him to his school. Twm loved his mother, and felt no great affection for his master, nor gratitude for the floggings which had enforced so much learning into his head; and never could the generous boy be brought to tell any tales to her disadvantage. The curate’s severity increased, and no longer praised or encouraged; Twm became not only indifferent to his tasks, but wanton and unjust severity had the effect of blunting his feelings; and making him stubborn and revengeful; until at length he arrived at such an extremity of youthful recklessness, as to study tricks for the annoyance of his master, and the scholars whom he found unfriendly.

In the eleventh year of his age, some decisive shoots of character made their appearance; a taste for sharp sayings, a skilful trickery in outwitting his opponents, appear to be his striking peculiarities, as well as boldness and resolution on the play-ground, where none could surpass him in robust or violent exercises. His faithful ally and constant instructor, Watt the mole catcher, taught him many useful andstrikinglessons when the pedagogue had done with our hero for the day. Twm, under his tuition, soon became proficient in the use of cudgels and quarter-staff.

More particular in the latter he excelled; and his superiority in this ancient and national exercise was exemplified by the loud cries and broken heads of his defeated schoolfellows. A catastrophe of that kind one day, even in school-time, brought the enraged master out, who severely asked Twm what he meant by suchconduct. “Why, sir,” cried the little rogue, “You always say that you never can beat anything into the head of Peter Penddwl, so I tried what I could do with the cudgel, that’s all!” For this he was booked for a future flogging. A few days after, his master sent him from the school to his house, for a book which he wanted.

Twm found the mistress and maid out, the first at the Hall, and the last had made a present of her little leisure to her sweetheart, Watt the mole-catcher. On entering the parlour, he saw there a fine bunch of grapes, which his great lady aunt had sent his master. As this was a fruit hitherto unknown to him, he deliberately tasted two or three to discover whether they were eatable. Having gradually seen the bunch grow “beautifully less,” it seemed a pity to separate the lovely fruit, so Twm thought they should all go the same way.

He therefore resolved to finish it, and lay the blame on the cat, if charged with the theft; as to dividing the spoil, and leaving a portion for the owner, the scheme was impracticable, he decided to abide by his master’s maxim, “that it was not decent for two to eat from the same dish.” Lifting up the remains of the luscious bunch with affected ceremony, he exclaimed in a lofty tone, mimicking his master, “I publish the banns of marriage between my mouth and this bunch of grapes; if any one knows just cause or impediment why they should not be joined together, let him now declare it, or hereafter forever, hold his peace!” And as no dissentient voice intervened, he abruptly cried—“silence gives consent,” and hastily consummated the delicious union.

No sooner had he gulped the grapes than his master made his appearance. Suspecting the cause of his delay, he had followed after, and witnessing the imposing ritual, he stood, rod in hand, surrounded by his scholars, whom he had called. When all was in readiness, he exclaimed, “I publish the banns of marriage between my rod and your breech; if anyone knows just cause or impediment why they may not be lawfully joined together in wedlock, let him now declare it.”

“I forbid the banns!” roared Twm Shon Catty; “For what reason?” cried the awful pedant, flourishing his rod in eager preparation.

“Because,” cried the waggish urchin, “the parties are not agreed.” At this moment a servant from Graspacre Hall brought a message from the lady of that mansion, that she wished to see the Reverend Mr. Inco Evans immediately; on which Twm obtained a remission of his flogging. History does not furnish us with satisfactory particulars as to whether Twm was liberated on account of his ready wit, or because necessity demanded it, the pedagogue being in a hurry.

The boys were now thrilled to ecstasy with that magic word, a “holiday!” and away scampered each and all to their respective amusements. Briefly, however, was their gust of enjoyment, for parson Inco’s voice was soon heard, vociferating his wrath in no gentle terms; and now he appeared in his shirt sleeves, his best Sunday sable coat in his hand, divested of every button.

His face at no time prepossessing, was now terrible to look on, inflamed with anger, with a slight tint of blue-black over his native strong ground of turkey-red. Great was the terror of the poor enslaved scholars as he howled out “What villain has cut off all the buttons from my coat?” A general whimper of, “it was not I, sir,” passed among the shivering train. And upon Mr. Inco’s threat to flog them all round unless the culprit was instantly discovered, one blue-nosed wretch, upon whom Evans had seized to commence his vengeance, roared out that it was Twm Shon Catty. “Where is the young catiff?” roared the Reverend Mr. Inco Evans.

“Playing at whirligoogan on the horseblock.”

“I’ll whirligoogan him with a vengeance,” roared the Tyro, at the same time snatching up his terrific bunch of birch which he had facetiously christened the tree of knowledge. Either from having a foreboding of thecause of this bustle, or being timely warned of the approaching danger, Twm had now made good his retreat, wisely considering that “Discretion was the better part of valour,” and that “He who fights and runs away, may live to fight another day.” So that at the precise moment when the curate thought Twm’s presence desirable, that happy individual, not the least afraid, was busy sketching a caricature of his master.

The materials were blank wall, a piece of chalk, and an extensive imagination, whilst he took care to place this artistic production within the precincts of a small house never visited except when absolutely necessary, but where he knew the curate would be able to study the fine arts at his leisure, though possibly it might turn out to be the “pursuit of knowledge under difficulties.” On the horse-block, however, was found his stock of whirligigs, which the Welsh boys called the whirligoogans. These were no other than the identical button moulds, which our hero had cut from the best gala-day coat of the Reverend Inco Evans, with pegs driven through each centre hole, so that when twirled between finger and thumb, on the surface of the horse-block, they became the puerile pastime of the younger scholars, who preferred “Whirligoogan” to the more robust exercise of the ball or bandy.

Baffled in his present vengeance, parson Inco shuffled off towards the house, and covered his buttonless coat with his gown and cassock, vowing inwardly, as he adjusted his dress, future chastisement, in the superlative degree, against our hero. Unfortunately at this luckless moment, a perverse hog that seemed to enter into the spirit of this disastrous hour, having risen from his bed of mud in the horse-pond, where he had dreamed and philosophised away the whole morning, was making his way towards the feeding trough, when a lean and sour household cur which appeared to envy him his swinish beauty, and easy-life rotoundity, maliciously bit him in the breech, and drove him snorting between the legs of the newly-dressed curate; so thatthe reverend gentleman was thrown headlong into the mass of muck, uniting the nature of matter and fluidity.

“The son of Catty shall pay for all,” muttered the enraged Inco Evans, as the servant cleansed his soiled sables. Thus when poor Twm was flogged next morning, with the leniency that the tired arm of the pedagogue alone afforded, he had to answer for the sins of the hog and the dog as well as his own—and all for playing whirligoogan with the parson’s buttons!

Mr. Graspacreupholds the national customs, and Welsh custom receives his support. A “tiff” with Lady Graspacre. The squire defends bed courtships. Newcastle Emlyn Ale. Thirsty rats.

At this time a warm altercation one day took place between the squire and his lady, which terminated in consequences little expected by either. Notwithstanding the prejudice to which Squire Graspacre’s harsh conduct had given birth, on his first settlement in Cardiganshire, he had about him certain saving points, that not only reconciled them to his rule, but really gained their esteem. He was a plain, bold, sensible man, and although entertaining a most exalted opinion of English superiority, generally, in particular instances he had the liberality to confess that he found things in this nation of mountaineers highly worthy of imitation among his more civilized brethren.

There are many exceptions like the squire, but we are sorry to add that in Wales we have more illiberal Englishmen, who sneer at all Welsh customs, because they are Welsh, than people would dream of. They forget that our usages are as dear to us, as theirs to them, and that however peculiar they may be in the eyes of an Englishman, the Welshman considers themasine qua nonof his own nationality. But these instances are fast dying out. Railroads, free and continued intercourse, and a liberal spirit of toleration, enable the Englishman to see our custom and our usages in a different light.

He had formerly expressed his disapprobation of a custom prevalent among Welsh farmers of leaving their corn a long time on the ground after being cut, instead of housing it as soon as possible; but experience taught him that they were right and himself in error; among the corn was a large quantity of weeds, which required to be dried, before it could with safety be brought to the barn or the rick, otherwise the grain was sweated, and literally poisoned with the rank juice. He found the Cardiganshire mode of cropping the young mountain furze, and giving it as food for horses and cattle, worthy of his attention, and after various trials, decided on its efficacy so far as to adopt it for the future; and actually set Carmarthen Jack to gather the seed of that mountain plant, which he forwarded to England to be sown and reared on his Devonshire farms.

The planting of flowers on the graves of deceased friends, he eulogized as a beautiful and endearing custom, forming an agreeable contrast to the clumsy English tombstones with barbarous lines, often setting truth, rhyme and reason at defiance. The Welsh harp he declared the prince of all musical instruments, and Welsh weddings the best contrived, and conducted in the best manner in the world, and proved his sincerity by always giving something at theBiddingsof the peasantry, and patronizing all those who entered that happy state. Above all things he admired the female costume in Wales, and protested with much truth, that the poor people in England were not half so well or so neatly clothed.

His lofty lady, although a Welshwoman bred and born, entertained a very different set of ideas on these subjects. Whenever her husband related the anecdote of Polydore Virgil’s ecstacy on his first landingin Britain, when he beheld the yellow-blossomed furze, which gave a golden glow to the swelling bosom of the hills—how he knelt on the ground beside a bush of it, fervently worshipping the God of Nature, that beautified the world with the production of such a plant; she would instantly reply, “The man was a fool! formy partI see nothing in the nasty prickly thing to admire, but wish the fire would burn them all from one end of the mountains to the other.”

“And yet, my dear,” he would answer, “Polydore Virgil was a native of no rude soil, but came from the land of the laurel, the cypress, and the vine, the orange, the lemon, and the citron, and many other splendid plants, the very names of which you perhaps never heard of; yet he had the liberality to admire what he justly deemed beautiful, even in a northern clime, and a comparatively harsh mountainous district.”

As to the harp, whenever he praised its melody, she declared it odious and unbearable, and gave preference to the fiddle, the bagpipes, or even the hurdy-gurdy; and the Welsh female costume she protested still more loudly against, and asked him with a sneer if he did not conceive it capable of improvement.

“Oh, certainly, my dear,” would he reply; “for instance, I would have the Glamorganshire girls wear shoes, and feet to their stockings, and convert their awkward wrappers into neat gowns; the Cardiganshire fair ones should doff their clogs, and wear leathern shoes; and the Breconshire lass, with all others who follow the abominable habit, should be hindered from wearing a handkerchief around the head; but I know of no improvement that can be suggested for the Pembrokeshire damsel, exceptonewhich would be equally applicable to all Welsh girls,—namely, to throw off their flannel shifts and wear linen ones.”

Now this good gentlewoman, whose leading weakness it was to suspect her husband’s fidelity when from home, kindled with rage at this remark. “Shifts, Mr. Graspacre,” exclaimed the angered lady, “whatbusiness have you to concern yourself about such matters? You ought, at least, to know nothing about such matters, but I dare say you know too much. There’s but one woman’s shifts in the world of which you ought to know anything, but no, you seem to know the cut of every girl’s shifts, and you couldn’t get that experience without other of a different kind.”

Anxious as a seaman to turn his bark from the direction of a dangerous rock, he mildly replied, “Surely, my dear, I may exercise my eyes, when the washed clothes are bleaching on the hedge,” and then adding in the same breath, “indeed, if I were you, my dear, I would make some improvements,such as your good taste will suggest, among our own maids; taking care however, not to destroy the stamp of nationality on their garbs at any rate.” This was a well-judged hit on his part, and had the effect of averting the impending storm.

It should have been mentioned before, that the squire, soon after his marriage, had made a tour of South Wales, and, as his lady expressed it, taken a whim in his head of engaging a maid servant in every county through which he passed; so that in Graspacre Hall there were to be found maiden representatives in their native costumes, of all the different shires in South Wales, except Radnor, in which, the squire said, the barbarous jargon of Herefordshire, and the English cottons, had supplanted the native tongue and dress of Wales. There might you see the neat maiden of Pembrokeshire in her dark cloth dress of one hue, either a dark brown approximating to black, or a claret colour, made by the skill of a tailor, and very closely resembling the ladies’ modern riding-habit,—a perfect picture of comfort and neatness, in alliance with good taste.

There would you see the extreme contrast, the Glamorganshire lass in stockings cut off at the ankle, and without shoes; and, although a handsome brunette with fine black eyes, dressed in a slammatkin check wrapper of cotton and wool, utterly shapeless, and tiedabout the middle like a wheat-sheaf, or a faggot of wood; possessing, however, the peculiar convenience that it could be put on in an instant, without the loss of time in dressing tastefully, and that it would fit every body alike, as it is neither a gown nor a bedgown, but between both, and without a waist.

There would you see the young woman of Breconshire, with her pretty blushing face, half hidden in a handkerchief which envelops her head that at first you would fancy the figure before you to be a grandmother at least. Her long linsey gown is pinned up behind, each extreme corner being joined together in the centre, and confined a few inches below her waist; she has her wooden-soled shoes for every day, and leathern ones for Sunday, or for a dance, which, with her stockings, she very economically takes off should a shower of rain overtake her on a journey; and when it ceases, washes her feet in the first brook she meets, and puts them on again. Some might term this a curious method of appreciating the protective excellence of the shoemaker’s art, but a Welsh girl, or rather, a Breconshire girl studies economy quite as much as comfort, and considers her shoes to be made as much for ornament as for use, and rather more.

This fair one takes especial care that her drapery shall be short enough to discover her pretty ankle, and her apron sufficiently scanty to disclose her gay red petticoat with black or white stripes, beneath, and at the sides. Then comes the stout Carmarthenshire lass, with her thick bedgown and petticoat of a flaring brick-dust red, knitting stockings as she walks, and singing a loud song as she cards or spins.

Lastly, though not least in importance, behold the clogged and cloaked short-statured woman of Cardiganshire. She scorns the sluttish garb and bare feet of the Glamorganshire maiden, and hates the abominable pride of the Pembrokeshire lass who is vain enough to wear leathern shoes instead of honest clogs; proving at the same time that her own vanity is of a more pardonable stamp. “Thank God too, that sheis not vain like the others are. Yet in her thanks shows vanity,” while she boasts with truth, that her dress costs twice as much as either of the others. The Cardiganshire woman’s dresses, in fact—generally blue, with red stripes and bound at the bottom with red or blue worsted caddis, are entirely of wool, solidly woven and heavy, consequently more expensive than those made of linsey or minco, or of the common intermixture of wool and cotton, and presenting an appearance of weighty warmth, equally independent of a comely cut and tasty neatness.

It was one of the squire’s fancies never to call these girls by their proper names, but by that of their shires, as thus, “Come here little Pembroke, and buckle my shoe: and you Carmarthen, bring me a bason of broth; Cardigan, call Glamorgan and Brecon, and tell them they must drive a harrow a piece through the ploughed part of Rockfield.”

On his return to dinner, a few days after the suggestion about the dresses of the maids, he was astonished to find that Mrs. Graspacre had used her privilege with a vengeance; having with decided bad taste, put them all,at their own expense, to be deducted from their wages, into glaring cotton prints.

The girls were unhappy enough at this change, as well as at the expense thus incurred, and they could not enter the town without experiencing the ridicule of their friends and neighbours; the Cardiganshire maid, who considered such a change in the light of disowning her country, and like a renegade putting on the livery of the Saxon, in something of a termagant spirit, tendered her resignation to her master rather than comply with such an innovation.

This ungenerous invasion of his harmless rules, roused his indignation; and after venting a few “damns,”a la John Bull, against draggle-tail cotton rags, without a word of expostulation with his rib, he desired the girls to bring all their trumpery to him, which they gladly did, and he made them instantly into a bonfire in the farm-yard. Then in a firm undertoneof subdued resentment, gave strict injunctions that no further liberties should be taken with their national costume; to which his lady made the polite and submissive reply, that the girls might all walk abroad without any dress at all if he chose, and go to the devil his own way.

At this juncture little Pembroke came in with rosy smiles, and told her master that Carmarthen Jack wanted to speak to him very particularly, on which the squire laughed, and asked on whatimportantmatter. “Why, sir,” said the rustic beauty, while arch smiles and blushes contended in her sweet oval face, “Parson Inco has found out that he has been courting in bed, with Catty the schoolmistress, and he has run here before the parson to say it is all a falsehood.”

“There’s an impious rascal for you!” cried the lady of the house, “to charge the clergyman with a falsehood; but I am sure ’tis true, for I long suspected it.”

“Madam, your own dignity and delicacy ought to suggest to you that the less you interfere in these matters the more creditable it will be to your own common sense,” said the squire, in a tone which was unmistakable. “I insist,” cried the imperious dame, “that he be put in the stocks, and be ducked in the river.”

“Neither shall be done,” said he firmly, “and from henceforward no person shall be annoyed or persecuted on that score, but everyone shall court as he or she pleases.” “What!” cried the indignant lady, “would you fill the country with bastards!”

“No, madam,” was the reply, “but with as happy a set of people as possible.”

Encouraged by the turn which affairs had taken, the Cardiganshire maid now asked her master for her discharge; as her mistress, she said, had thrown a slur on her brewing abilities, which had almost broken her heart; “for” said she, with a ludicrous whimper, “she says my brewing is unfit for the drinking of Christian people, and hardly worthy of the hogs!—but,” cried the sturdy little wench, raising her voiceto an accusatory pitch, and at the same time a tone of triumph, “I came from Newcastle Emlyn, the country of good beer, the very home where theCwrw daofHen Gymru[50a]is bred and born, and I would rather die than be told that I can’t brew!”

“Indeed, Cardy,” said the squire, with a smile, “though your mistress may have been too severe in her censure, I must say that your two last brewings were unequal to the first.” “A good reason why, sir; who can brew without malt and hops? who can make bricks without straw? I hear some of the great London brewers do without either malt or hops, but I wouldn’t drink their brewings, I know; their brewings won’t do for us at Newcastle Emlyn! and your wheat,[50b]sir, which has grown by being cut in the wet harvest, so as to be unfit for bread, is but a poor make-shift for malt—it may do for the wish-wash paltry brewers’ ale of Haverfordwest and Fishguard, or the Swansea folk, Merthyr blacks, and Cardiff boys, but our ploughboys would turn up their noses at such stuff at Newcastle Emlyn!

“Damn Newcastle Emlyn!” cried the squire, provoked by her continual reference to her native place. “Master! master!” cried the girl, as if rebuking him for the greatest impiety conceivable, “don’t damn Newcastle Emlyn; I had rather you should knock me down than damn Newcastle Emlyn! it is the country of decent people and good home-brewed ale,—the country where”—

“You brewed good ale from the grown wheat the first time,” said the squire, not deeming it necessary to notice her observations.

“Good! was it?” retorts the girl, struggling between respect for her master and contempt for his taste in the matter of malt drink; “good was it! I tell you what, master, you are a good master, and I have nothing tosay against mistress, for it would not be decent, but you never tasted beer like ours at Newcastle Emlyn! the real heartycwrw da! which I could make you to-morrow, if you would give me good malt and hops, and let it stand long enough untapped.”

“But Cardy, there must be a sound reason for your two last brewings being inferior to the first. You could brew a well-flavoured, palatable beer, but you don’t now, although you have the same ingredients given you.”

“The last was better, a good deal, than the other. The first would have turned the devil’s stomach, had he known what was in it.”

“Explain yourself,” said the squire, surprised. “I will, sir, if I were to be hanged for it,” cried the girl in a tone of confidence; “it seems that rats love beer as well as any christian folks, and get drunk and die in drink, as a warning to all sober-minded rats; but that is neither here nor there, and I hate to tell a rigmarole story; the long and the short of it is, that when I came to wash out the barrels after the first brewing, I found three rats in one, and two in the other.”

“You found what?” asked the squire and his lady at the same time.

“I found three rats, sir, that had burst themselves with drinking beer, and afterwards fell in and were drowned—they were then putrid, and it was that, it seems, that made the ale so palatable; there were no dead animals in the last brewing, so that of course it wasn’t so ‘palatable’ and well-flavoured as the other. But had I known your mind I might have killed a couple of cats, or put you in a bushel of lively cockroaches.”

This explanation excited a titter among the girls, and a loud laugh from the squire, while the lady evinced the shock which her delicacy had sustained, by making wry faces, and snuffing violently at her smelling-bottle to avoid fainting.

The squire good-humouredly addressed the girl,—“now, Cardy, you are perfectly right in the praise you bestow on your own country ale, and I promiseyou shall have the best of malt and hops for your next attempt, when I expect it to be equal to the bestcwrw daof Newcastle Emlyn—and, do you hear? we shall dispense with either rats or cats in it for the future.”

This amicable settlement of differences set every one in good humour, except the haughty mistress, who, embittered with her double defeat, retired in gloom, while her husband went to give audience to Jack of Sheer Gâr.

“Themanners and customs” attendant on a Welsh Wedding. The Bidding. The Gwahoddwr. The Ystavell. Pwrs a Gwregys. Pwython. In which our hero and his friend Watt play rather important parts.

Carmarthen Jack had not been long waiting for his master, before little Pembroke full of glee, ran to inform him that the embargo had been taken for ever off bed courtship; and that he was now free whether guilty or not. This happy news affected him so well that he met his master with comparative ease; and after some struggles with his native bashfulness, an important secret came out—that he was going to be married to Catty the schoolmistress; and wished to know whether he should be retained in the squire’s service after that event.

Now this was a circumstance exactly to the squire’s taste; as a Welsh wedding portrayed many national features in the character of the peasantry, that pleased him; and, as he was generally a donor on these occasions, his vanity was flattered by being looked up to as their patron. He of course acquiesced in his servant’s request, and after a little jocular and rough rallying,proposed that theBiddingshould be immediately commenced.

ABiddingwas another of the excellent customs peculiar to the Welsh, but of late years confined exclusively to the lower classes, which the squire so much admired, and considered worthy of imitation, he said, throughout the world. It signifies a general and particular invitation to all the friends of the bride and bridegroom elect, to meet them at the houses of their respective parents, or any other place appointed. Any strangers who choose to attend are also made welcome. It is an understood thing that every person who comes, contributes a small sum towards making a purse for the young pair to begin the world with. They have a claim on those persons whose weddings they had themselves attended; and at these times their parents and friends also make their claims in their favour on all whom they may have at any time befriended in a similar manner. These donations are always registered, and considered as debts, to be repaid, on the occurrence of weddings only; but there are many contributors, especially the masters and mistresses of the parties, that of course require no repayment. These returns being made only by small instalments, and only at the weddings of their donors, are easily accomplished; and the benefit derived from this custom is great, where the parties are respected.

A novel feature, to those who have been unaccustomed to the Welsh wedding, is the Gwahoddwr or Bidder, who goes from house to house, with his staff of office—a white wand embellished with ribbons. His hat, and often the breast of his coat, is similarly decorated. Thus attired, he enters each house with suitable “pride of place,” amidst the smiles of the old people, and giggling of the young ones; and taking his stand in the centre of the house, and striking his wand on the floor to enforce silence, announces the wedding which is to take place, sometimes in rhyme, but more frequently in a set speech of prose.

The banns were immediately put in, and every preparation made for the wedding. Watt the mole-catcher, as the greatest wag in the parish, was appointed by the squire to the enviable office ofGwahoddwr. The following homely lines, from a correct and liberal translation of those written for the purpose of giving Watt’s oratory full scope on this occasion. The Rev. John David Rhys, a young poetical clergyman, at this time a visitor with Squire Graspacre, was the author; and though they do not betoken the “unapproachable of Parnassus,” they yet suited the purpose for which they were penned.

List to the Bidder!—a health to allWho dwell in this house, both great and small;Prosperity’s comforts ever attendThe Bride and Bridegroom’s generous friend.His door may it never need a latch;His hearth a fire, his cottage a thatch;His wife a card, or a spinning-wheel;His floor a table, nor on it a meal!On Saturday next a wedding you’ll see,In fair Tregaron, as gay as can be,Between John Rees, called Jack o Sheer Gâr,And Catherine Jones, his chosen fair.Haste to the wedding, its joy to share!Mirth and good humour shall meet you there;Come one, come all: there’s a welcome trueTo master and mistress and servants too!Stools you will find to sit upon,And tables, and goodly food thereon,Butter and cheese, and flesh and fish,(If you can catch them!) all you wish.There many a lad shall a sweetheart find,And many a lass meet a youth to her mind,While nut-brown ale, both good and strong,Shall warm the heart for the dance and song.Oft at the wedding are matches made,When dress’d in their best come youth and maid,And dance together, and whisper and kiss.—Who knows what wedding may rise from this.Whoever may come to the bidding note,—There’s thanks to the friend who brings three groat;And ne’er may they hobble upon a crutchWhoe’er gives the lovers twice as much!Whatever is given, so much they’ll restore—One shilling or two, or three, or four,Whenever in similar case ’tis claim’d,Else were defaulters ever shamed.[55]So haste to the wedding, both great small,Master and mistress and servants all!Catty at home, Jack’s at the sign of the Cat;Now God save the king and the bidder Watt!

List to the Bidder!—a health to allWho dwell in this house, both great and small;Prosperity’s comforts ever attendThe Bride and Bridegroom’s generous friend.

His door may it never need a latch;His hearth a fire, his cottage a thatch;His wife a card, or a spinning-wheel;His floor a table, nor on it a meal!

On Saturday next a wedding you’ll see,In fair Tregaron, as gay as can be,Between John Rees, called Jack o Sheer Gâr,And Catherine Jones, his chosen fair.

Haste to the wedding, its joy to share!Mirth and good humour shall meet you there;Come one, come all: there’s a welcome trueTo master and mistress and servants too!

Stools you will find to sit upon,And tables, and goodly food thereon,Butter and cheese, and flesh and fish,(If you can catch them!) all you wish.

There many a lad shall a sweetheart find,And many a lass meet a youth to her mind,While nut-brown ale, both good and strong,Shall warm the heart for the dance and song.

Oft at the wedding are matches made,When dress’d in their best come youth and maid,And dance together, and whisper and kiss.—Who knows what wedding may rise from this.

Whoever may come to the bidding note,—There’s thanks to the friend who brings three groat;And ne’er may they hobble upon a crutchWhoe’er gives the lovers twice as much!

Whatever is given, so much they’ll restore—One shilling or two, or three, or four,Whenever in similar case ’tis claim’d,Else were defaulters ever shamed.[55]

So haste to the wedding, both great small,Master and mistress and servants all!Catty at home, Jack’s at the sign of the Cat;Now God save the king and the bidder Watt!

During this hubbub and preparation, Twm Shon Catty was granted the glorious privilege of a week’s holiday, and his friend Watt took him along with him to every house where he had to act as bidder. To see, was to learn with Twm, and to learn was to imitate. The thought soon struck him that he might be aGwahoddwr; so he at once cut a stout willow wand, peeled it, and tacked a bunch of carpenter’s shavings and rush flags to the top. Forth he went, and standing in the midst of a group of admiring boys and girls, proceeded to imitate Watt in every motion. On this occasion it is said he invoked the aid of the tuneful nine, and composed the following effusion, but wesuspect that he was only the mouthpiece to the real poet.

After Watt had finished, our hero struckhisemblem of office upon each floor, and repeated the following:—

Who’ll come to the wedding of Catty my mother?Come mother, come daughter, son, father, brother,And bring all your cousins, and uncles, and aunts,To revel the feast at our jolly courants.Haste, haste to the Bidding, ye stingy scrubs!And out with your purses, and down with your dubs.Come Gwenny and Griffith, and Roger and Sal;Morgan, Meredith, and Peggy and Pal;Come one, come all, with your best on back,To see mother married to spoon-making Jack;He’s a spoon for his pains, as ye all shall see soon,But lucky at finding a bowl to his spoon.Haste, haste to the Bidding! my friends, if you please,For lack of white money bring good yellow cheese,And butter, but not in your pockets alack,Bring bacon or mutton well dried on the rack.So endeth my story; come, haste we, friend Watty;Now God save the King, and his friend Twm Shon Catty!

Come Gwenny and Griffith, and Roger and Sal;Morgan, Meredith, and Peggy and Pal;Come one, come all, with your best on back,To see mother married to spoon-making Jack;He’s a spoon for his pains, as ye all shall see soon,But lucky at finding a bowl to his spoon.

Haste, haste to the Bidding! my friends, if you please,For lack of white money bring good yellow cheese,And butter, but not in your pockets alack,Bring bacon or mutton well dried on the rack.So endeth my story; come, haste we, friend Watty;Now God save the King, and his friend Twm Shon Catty!

Twm’s delivery of these lines excited much mirth and laughter, and, added to those of the realGwahoddwr, drew more than ordinary attention to this Bidding. Many of the children of the different houses had been Twm’s school-fellows, and the pupils of his mother, which had the effect of influencing them, and became a sort of tie, to claim their presence at her bidding. As Jack’s friends were in Carmarthenshire, anotherGwahoddwrwas appointed by his master to go with him to call on his at his own native place; and so liberal was the squire on this occasion, that he sent them both mounted on horses of their own.

Jack and his Bidder had no great success, as his friends reproached him for his perverse intention of marrying a strange woman in a far land; and finding but little pleasure in the subject or manner of their lectures, he made a precipitate retreat. Jack blushed for his countrymen, and he had sufficient native delicacy to see that their liberality would contrastdisadvantageously with the warm generosity of Catty’s friends. He therefore bribed Ianto Gwyn, the harper, who had acted as his bidder, to silence; and brought with him to Tregaron, in a hired cart, the common contribution of a bridegroom,—namely, a bedstead, a table, a stool, and a dresser. These, he feigned had been bought with his bidding-money, received at Carmarthen. Friday is always allotted to bring home theYestavell, or the woman’s furniture; consisting generally of an oaken coffer or chest; a feather-bed and blankets; all the crockery and pewter; wooden bowls, piggings, spoons, and trenchers, with the general furniture of the shelf; but as Catty was already provided with every thing of this kind, she had but little to add to her stock.

The landlord of the public-house originally called “The Lion,” but with a sign resembling a more ignoble animal, causing it to be ultimately known by no other designation than that of “the cat,” offered Jack his parlour to receive his Cardiganshire friends in. Accordingly, on the Friday before the wedding, he was busily employed in receiving money, cheese, and butter, from them, while Catty was similarly engaged at her residence, withherpartizans, which were not a few. This custom in Welsh is calledPwrs a Gwregys, or purse and girdle; and is, doubtless, of very remote origin.

At length the long-looked-for, the important Saturday arrived; a day generally fixed upon for the celebration of the hymeneal ordinances, in Wales, from the sage persuasion that it is alucky day, as well as for the convenience of the Sabbath intervening between it and a working day—a glorious season of sunshine to the children of labour.

Jack was agreeably disappointed to see a great many of his Carmarthen friends had repented of their unkind treatment of his bidder, and had now come to make amends. They came mounted on their ponies, and honourably paid theirPwython; that is to say, returned the presents which he or his relatives or friendshad made at different weddings. Jack’s resentful and sudden disappearance, had a beneficial effect on the feelings of his friends and countrymen; and a jealousy of yielding the palm for liberality to a neighbouring country, stirred a spirit of emulous contention among them, which ended in a resolution that a party should attend the wedding, and bear with them thePwythonof the others, who had an aversion to travel such a very distant journey, being nearly five and twenty miles, a distance in those days which was considered no joke, but which we now, in this age of steam and locomotion, bridge over in five and twenty minutes.

After depositing their offerings, and partaking of a little refreshment, twelve of the bridegroom’s friends, headed by Ianto Gwyn the harper, mounted their ponies and called at Catty’s house, to demand the bride; and Watt the mole-catcher andGwahoddwr, who added to these functions the father to Catty, expecting their arrival, at length heard without appearing, the following lines, delivered by the merry harper, from the back of his pony.

Open windows, open doors,And with flowers strew the floors,Heap the hearth with blazing wood,Load the spit with festal foodThecrochen[58]on its hook be placed,And tap a barrel of the best!For this is Catty’s wedding day!Now bring the fair one out, I pray.

On which Watt, with the door still closed, made this reply without appearing.

Who are ye all! ye noisy train!Be ye thieves, or honest men,Tell us now what brings you here,Or this intrusion costs you dear!

Ianto Gwyn then rejoins,

Honest men are we, who seekA dainty maid both fair and meek,Very good and very pretty,And known to all by name of Catty;We come to claim her for a bride;Come, father! let the pair be tiedTo him who loves her ever well:—

Watt still within, answers;

So ye say, but time will tell;My daughter’s very well at home,So ye may pack and homeward roam.

Ianto Gwyn exclaims, in resolute tones,

Your home no more she’s doom’d to share,Like every marriageable fair,Her father’s roof she quits for oneWhere she is mistress: woo’d and won,It now remains to see her wedded,And homeward brought and safely bedded;Unless you give her up, we swearThe roof from off your house to tear,Burst in the doors, and batter wallsTo rescue her whom wedlock calls.

Another of the bridegroom’s party then calls aloud, in a voice of authority,

Ho! peace in the king’s name, here peace!Let vaunts and taunting language cease;While we, the bridesmen, come to sueThe favour to all bridesmen due,The daughter from the father’s hand,And entertainment kindly bland.

Now the great Watt, the famous entrapper of moles, with airs mighty and grand, well befitting the dignity of the occasion—and however absurd our English brethren may term the custom, it is considered of serious importance with us—throws open the door of Catty’s dwelling, sallies forth to give the querists a warm welcome, and as a preliminary helps them to dismount. After taking a little more refreshment, consisting of newly-baked oaten cakes, with butter and cheese, washed down with copious draughts of ale, they all remounted, and were joined by those of the bridegroom’s party; the whole rustic cavalcade making their way towards the church. A motley assemblage, in truth it was, butwithal picturesque, and agreeable to contemplate, for every face was happy; save when now and then a cautious damsel, mounted behind her father or brother, would exhibit a touch of the dismals in the length of her features, on discovering that thecwrwhad any other effect but that of rendering her protector steady in his seat on the saddle. Almost every sort of animal, large or small, lame or blind, good or bad, seemed to have been pressed into the service, and reduced to the levelling system, and without regard to either size or quality, doomed to carry double.

And thus they went on at a walking pace, while the loud chat of many seemed drowned in the loud laughter and shouting of others, till now and then rebuked by some of the elders; who however, to little purpose, vociferated the words decency—propriety—sober purposes—&c. &c., the tendency of which seemed but little understood. Jack, the happy bridegroom elect, bestrode a wretched apology for a horse, whose antiquated legs trembled like an aspen leaf; as for its bones, they were painfully apparent, and the very curs seemed, as they looked upon this time worn piece of cattle, to anticipate their feast. Elevated behind her temporary father on a fleet horse of the squire’s, poor Catty was doomed to present purgatory to contrast her enjoyment of future happiness, for, unprovided with a pillion, she sat on the crupper, holding fast by Watt’s coat. The quiet pace which commenced this little journey was soon changed into rough horsemanship, for the mad-cap mole-catcher turning his steed into the Cardigan road, gave him the spur, and commenced an outrageous gallop; the wedding party followed him with all the might of their little beasts, and like valiant villagers in chase of a highwayman, strove their utmost to rescue the bride. Ianto Gwyn, the rural bard and harper, ever ready with an extempore, produced on this occasion:—

Oh yes! lost, strayed, or run awayThis moment from the king’s highway,A tall and sightly strapping woman,A circumstance which is a rum ’un;’Tis said a murderer of verminOn her abduction did determine;Whoe’er will bear to gaol th’ offender,The lost one to her owner render,Shall be as handsomely rewarded,As can be readily afforded.

Having considerably distanced his pursuers, he stopped at length, at Catty’s request, who complained sadly of being sorely bumped upon the buckle of the crupper. Dexterously turning to the bye-road toward the church, he was soon perceived and followed by the party, and altogether they soon arrived at their journey’s end, and alighting, they entered the sacred fane with due decorum. Evans the curate, to enhance his own services and increase his importance, took care to damp their hilarity by keeping them waiting full three quarters of an hour, before he made his appearance; and when he came, his looks and demeanour partook more of the rigid priest of Saturn, than the heart-joining, bliss-dispensing Hymen. His cherished plans, which were to result in a discovery of dishonour to poor Catty, were terribly overthrown by this decent Welsh marriage, and the curate was in a corresponding temper. His nature was not such as would rejoice at virtue triumphant, more especially as he had calculated upon vice occupying the same position.

He very sternly rebuked their smiles and happy looks, and actually threatened not to perform the marriage ceremony, until, alarmed at the menace, they all became perfectly joyless, and most orthodoxically gloomy. The indissoluble knot was soon tied; and no longer dependent on the good offices of the magisterial churchman, their spirit of joyousness burst forth; while in the churchyard the mellow harp of Ianto Gwyn was playing the sprightly air ofMorwynion Glan Meirionydd, or the Fair Maids of Merionethshire; while many of the party joined in the words which belong to that beautiful andanimating tune. Suddenly changing the air, the eccentric harper struck up “Megan has lost her garter,” which was succeeded by “Mentra Gwen,” and a string of such national melodies, equally gay and appropriate.

After the marriage ceremony, they returned in much the same order, or rather disorder; with the difference that the bride sat behind her husband, instead of her father; the harper playing the whole time, and many sweet voices joining in the words of the airs.

Coming to Catty’s house, the company found that Juggy had been useful and hospitable. There was a first-rate dinner provided, in ample proportions, of which all could and did partake freely; every one had to pay for his own ale, but the females, by courtesy, were “treated” at the expense of males. In the course of the evening, jigs, reels, and country dances, were successfully gone through with much spirit. Catty danced with much agility; Jack, pressed on all sides, and at length compelled to make one in a country dance, showed every indication of this being his virgin attempt at “the poetry of motion;” and alternately stumping and blowing, while copious streams ran down his rugged forehead, as they every instant corrected his erratic course, and literally pushed him down the dance, he vowed that this his first, should also be his last exhibition on the “light fantastic toe.”

Young Twm, who had been playing at sweethearts, with little Gwenny Cadwgan on his knee, to the great mirth of his seniors, soon brought her out to try her foot at the dance with him. The poor little wench blushed scarlet deep, made her first essay with one equally young and inexperienced with herself; and the juvenile pair were very good-naturedly instructed in the figure of the dance, and they contributed not a little to the general harmony. Juggy, the sister of Catty, absolutely refused to sport her figure among the dancers, and treated Watt themole-catcher with a hard favour in the face for attempting to drag her in perforce. At length, fatigued with the dancing, and alarmed for the state of their inebriated friends and companions, many, especially the females, turned their serious thoughts towards home.

It was now drawing towards the hour of retiring for the night, when the usual trick was played of concealing the bride from the bridegroom. Poor Jack, whom nature had not favoured with a great share of facetiousness, and who never mixed with such a company before, began to be seriously alarmed. Great was the mirth of the company, while, with a strange expression of countenance, he sought her up and down in every corner of the house. At length he discovered a part of her red petticoat sticking out from under the bottom of the straw arm-chair, and soon drew her out from the place of concealment.

The parting hour had now arrived; then came the general shaking of hands, and serious expressions of good wishes among the sober; while the tipsy folks vented their wit in jocular allusions to their conjugal felicity: some offering themselves for godfathers and godmothers to their future offspring, while others far gone in drink, laid bets on the probability that the first child would be either a boy or a girl. At this time considerable surprise was excited by the conduct of an individual who had been remarkably unsocial the whole evening, no person having heard him speak a word; and when asked a question, or in answer to a health being drank, he merely nodded in a hurried manner, and immediately drew hard at his pipe, and puffed forth volumes of smoke, as if to envelop himself in a cloud of invisibility.

The mysterious stranger had been evidently “taking stock” the whole of the evening, but whether pleased or displeased with the proceedings did not appear, as reticence seemed to be about the only accomplishment he possessed. Every one wastoo much engaged with their own pleasure to give him much attention, and thus he remained till the moment of departure, when he was observed to stagger as he rose from his seat. Somebody then observed, that it must have been with smoke and not the beer that affected his brains, as he drank but little; a remark that imputed niggardly and curmudgeon propensities to him. Determined to give him something of a roast, a young farmer asked him, with a defying air, whether he had paid hisPwython.

“No!” roared the hitherto silent man, “but here it is—take it ‘Catty’ my girl, and much good may it do thee!” On which he put five golden angels into her hand. With emotions of wonder and gratitude, while catching an eager glance at his face, Catty involuntarily exclaimed—“the squire!” when he darted out, mounted his horse, as did the rest of the party, rode off, and disappeared.

Twm Shon Cattyimproves under a more able tuition. Watt’s vagaries, and the troubles and trials of a poor pedlar. Twm begins his apprenticeship to a Cardiganshire farmer.

Determined to witness the humble festivities of the “lowly train,” Squire Graspacre had been among them the whole evening, disguised like a rough mountaineer husbandman, and was heartily gratified, although his apparent incivility of conduct had nearly subjected him to harsh treatment from the jovial ale-fraught rustics, who, of course, but little relished his strange behaviour. His deficiency in the Welsh language had been concealed by alternately feigning deafness and drunkenness, which, with the aid of the pipe left him free from suspicion. The morning of Sunday after the wedding, which is calledNeithior,being come, the happy pair stayed at home, receiving their friends who called with their good-will, which they manifested by the payment ofPwython. The day was drank out, but not as in every other respect, save the diminishing of ale, each seemed to recollect it was the Sabbath, and tossed off their cups in quietness.

On Monday morning the supply of ale was exhausted, tottering legs waggled homeward, and all was again quiet. Like prudent accountants, Jack and Catty reckoned up the amount of their wedding gifts, and found the amount to be twenty-seven pounds eight shillings and sixpence, besides fourteen whole, and twenty-two half cheeses, the greater part of which they soon turned into cash.

In these days, when the value of money has been so much decreased, the amount of thePwython, and presents at a Welsh wedding, have been known to reach more than treble the sum here stated; especially when the friends of the party have been numerous, and headed by the patronage of a wealthy and liberal master and mistress, who generally enlist their friends and visitors under the hymeneal banners of a faithful servant, the architects of whose humble fortunes they become, by laying themselves the foundation stone.

As, from this part of our history, the hero will rise in importance, those who have hitherto stood forward, must proportionably draw back, to give him due place; especially Jack and Catty; the grand drama of whose lives has been closed by a matrimonial union; whence, henceforth, they must sink into inconsiderable personages.

In consequence of the squire’s liberality on the celebration of Catty’s wedding, and a general report prevailing that he was inclined towards the Welsh, a protector of their customs, a general good-will towards him was manifested by the country people. But his popularity reached its culminating point when he gave forth the opinion that the Welsh female costume was auseful, elegant, and picturesque one, and for once, a scion of John Bull became popular with us.

When he eulogized the Welsh harp, and gave, in addition to various pieces of silver at different times, a golden angel to Ianto Gwyn for his performances at Jack and Catty’s wedding, he gained a few steps more into their good opinion. But when he declared that bed courtship should not be abolished, there was a burst of enthusiasm in his favour in every breast, especially among the females. During this new impulse given to the reign of happiness, the great lady at the hall and her favourite curate hid their diminished heads; the former declaring that it was utterly impossible that the world could last many months longer, while such immorality and ungodliness was practiced under the auspices of a declared patron.

Whether it was the influence of this alarm, or the bitterness of baffled malignity, that preyed on her mind, certain it is, she was soon thrown on a sick bed, and considered seriously indisposed. The squire, to his honour be it said, although unfortunately married to a very disagreeable woman, allowed a sense of duty to supply the place of affection, when his attentions were so indispensably needed. During her illness, the worthy old rector, who had been ill but a single week, died; and Squire Graspacre, against his own judgment and feelings, well knowing that such an arrangement would be agreeable to his wife, inducted the curate, Evans, into the vacant living. In a fortnight after, however, she died herself; a circumstance, perhaps, that gave no real sorrow to any creature breathing.

The general report of a liberal English squire in Cardiganshire, who patronized and upheld the customs of the Welsh, penetrated to the extremities of the neighbouring counties, and became at last so strangely exaggerated, that he was represented as the patron of the learned; consequently many of the humbler sons of the church took long journeys to be undeceived. Of the many who called upon him with a view of seeking hispatronage of their literary undertakings, one especially took his fancy; a young clergyman named John David Rhys, before named as the author of the Bidder’s song.

But poetry was not his forte; his energy and perseverance in the favourite study of Welshmen, British antiquities, and systemizing his native language, deserved encouragement and applause. He had been composing a Welsh grammar, and had actually commenced a dictionary. As he spoke English very well, the squire soon understood the merit of his undertakings, and promised his patronage and good offices; in the mean time requesting him to remain on the footing of a friend beneath his roof, till something could be done for him. This excellent person he now fixed upon to succeed Evans in the school and curacy; stipulating, that for his fulfilment of the latter, he was to have thirty pounds, and for the former ten pounds a-year.

Fortunate for Rhys would it have been had the old rector outlived the squire’s lady, in which case it is more than probable he would have filled the living instead of Evans, whom the squire never liked. The change was a fortunate one for Twm Shon Catty, who, as we have before seen, had already a name for composing doggerel, and had even tried his muse in the orthodox four-and-twenty Welsh measures. When he found his new master a kind young man, an historian, antiquarian, and something of a poet, the homage of the heart was immediately paid him. Twm thought he was the wisest man in the world, when he heard him speak of the battles fought by the Britons in ancient times, against the Romans, Danes, and Saxons. This was to him a knowledge the most estimable, and he longed to be enabled also to talk about battles and to write patriotic songs. Having now his information from a better source, he soon learnt to despise the jargon and misstatements of Ianto Gwyn, with whom he argued boldly, and proved to him that Geoffry of Monmouth was a fabulist, and no historian; that it was not Joseph of Arimathea who christianized Britain, butBrân ab Llyr, the father of renowned Caractacus, with various other such knotty points.

The great deference which he paid his master, his attention to every word which fell from his lips, with his close and successful application to his lessons, gained him the esteem and admiration of Rhys, with whom he became a great favourite. The amiable young clergyman found much satisfaction on discovering a youngster with taste, sufficient to appreciate his favourite pursuits, and took pleasure in explaining to him every subject of his enquiries. A thirst for information possessed the boy; and he rummaged the most dry and tedious works connected with Welsh antiquities, with an avidity that was astonishing even to his master.

It would perhaps have been fortunate for Twm had this thirst for study remained unchecked by any less noble desire. But joking and learning, “larks” and Latin, practical jests and Welsh history, are scarcely likely to agree well. Watt the mole-catcher occupied his attention, and, in the end, his acquaintance with that personage was an ill wind which blew nobody good.

About eighteen months after Rhys’s appointment to the school, one evening in the Christmas holidays, Watt asked him if he would take a share in a freak that would keep him up the greater part of the night. Twm immediately assented, without enquiring its nature; enough for him it was that it was a scheme of merry mischief, in the prospect of which his heart ever bounded.

This idle whim of Watt’s was nothing more than to pull down the signs of all the public-houses and shops; which being few, was easily done, but the greater difficulty was to suspend them from, or attach them to, the tenements of others, in which they however succeeded. This trick elicited some humour; and a satirical application was discernible in the new disposal of the boards. When the light of day discovered their handy-work, great was the astonishment of the ale-house-keepersand others, to find their signs vanished, and gracing the fronts of their neighbours’ private houses; and the anger of the reverend Inco Evans was boundless, on perceiving the “Fox and Goose” over the rectory house door, with the words proceeding from the mouth of reynard, “I have thee now;” and under the pictorial figures “Good entertainment for man or horse.”

A crowd was in consequence collected about his door, and the provoking laughter of the people stung him to the bitterest degree of resentment. A most unlucky old carl of a Scotch pedlar at this moment very innocently entered the house, taking it, as the sign imported, for a tavern, and unstrapping his huge pack, laid it on the clerical magistrate’s table, calling about, “hollow! Fox and Goose;” on which the reverend host and his spouse appeared, she laughing at the jest, and he frowning with the aspect of a demon.

“Ah ye ’re come,” said the facetious Scot, “by my saul aw never kenn’d twa that looked the characters sa weal afore—a merry guse an a sour fox! come gi us a pot of your best half and half.” The lady ran out laughing, but Inco sourly answered, “O yes! friend, thou shalt have half and half to thy heart’s content;” and turning his back, shut and locked the door, leaving the poor pedlar in gaping wonderment.

“They’re an aufu’ time coming! I’se warrant they’re brewing the beer. Hech, sirs, this is a strange place o’ ca’, and they wouldna’ find sic a vile ’yun, frae John o’Groat’s to John o’ Aberdeen’s!” But his rumination on the subject was cut short by the return of Inco, who unlocking the door, was followed in by two serving damsels, each bearing a pewter vase containing something less fragrant than the sweets of Araby, which they duly discharged in the face of the unconscious pedlar, accompanied with Inco’s exclamation “there’s half and half for you!” and the girls retreated in roars of laughter, while their poor victim cursed them for vile nanny goats of the mountains.

At this moment young Twm, humanely feeling for the stranger’s ill treatment, informed him of his errorin mistaking that house, the residence of the clergyman and magistrate of the town, for a tavern. Adding that be feared the constables were sent for, to put him in the stocks. It need scarcely be added, that Sawney was soon many miles away from Tregaron. Hop-o-my-Thumb never used his legs and his seven-leagued boots to such express purpose as did Sawney, for he pushed on as though he knew terrors were behind, and the safety of the body depended upon the speed of his legs. Squire Graspacre from indolence or dislike to all business except farming, declined being in the commission of the peace himself, and put the parson in his stead. Having now attained the summit of his ambition, as rector and justice of the peace, his overweening presumption and conceit became daily more conspicuous; and therefore this slur upon his consequence was intolerable. The actor in this simple freak became at length known in consequence of the secret being intrusted, a very common case, to aconfidential friend.

Although the twenty shillings reward which the parson offered could not induce the poorest to be base enough to become an informer, yet an idle spirit of tattling among the women brought it at length to the ears of Mistress Evans, and her husband soon became possessed of the whole particulars. He instantly made his complaint to the squire against both Twm and Watt, who were merely reprimanded, cautioned for the future, and dismissed.

The circumstances under which Twm Shon Catty was educated, now suddenly occurred to him. “What the goodness is to become of that young imp of mischief?” said he, one day, to Rhys the curate, whom he had informed of the particulars of the birth, and his deceased wife’s whim of having him well educated, in consequence of him being a slip of Sir John Wynn’s. That connection being entirely closed by the death of his wife, he no longer felt himself bound or inclined to notice him. When Rhys gave so good an account of his proficiency, he was surprised to hear the squireexclaim—“I am sorry for it, for he has no prospect in the world but labour and beggary. As he had already had too good an education for his circumstances, he must be instantly dismissed from the school. Since Sir John does not think proper to protect his son, I don’t see why I should. As the poet very properly says:—

“Too much learning makes a man a fool;I’d have no lad attend too long at school:Give him a taste, then turn him out adrift;In knowledge, at the least, he’s had a lift.”

Twm and his master parted with mutual regret, for latterly they were more like companions than master and scholar; and the generous Rhys could not restrain a tear on beholding a youth of so much promise destined to the uncertain wilderness of a hard and cold world, especially after having evinced a superiority of taste and intellect, that under favourable auspices would have entitled him to shine and flourish in his day. Twm remained awhile at his mother’s, a big boy of fifteen, idling away his days without any view to the future. Greatly concerned on his account and her own inability to support him, Catty went one day to the squire, and implored him to do something for her son; and he at lastgenerouslydecided to send him as a parish apprentice to a farmer, whose grounds were situate in the neighbouring mountains.

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