Nocturnal Journey—Maes y Llyn—The Figure—Earl of Leicester—Twm Shone Catti—The Farmer and Bull—Tom and the Farmer—The Cave—The Threat—Tom a Justice—The Big Wigs—Tregaron. It was dusk by the time I had regained the highroad by the village of the Rhyd Fendigaid. As I was yet eight miles from Tregaron, the place where I intended to pass the night, I put on my best pace. In a little time I reached a bridge over a stream which seemed to carry a considerable tribute to the Teivi. “What is the name of this bridge?” said I to a man riding in a cart whom I met almost immediately after I had crossed the bridge. “Pont Vleer,” methought he said, but as his voice was husky and indistinct, very much like that of a person somewhat the worse for liquor, I am by no means positive. It was now very dusk, and by the time I had advanced about a mile farther dark night settled down, which compelled me to abate my pace a little, more especially as the road was by no means first-rate. I “I beg pardon for troubling you, but I wish to know the name of this place.” “Maes y Llyn—The Field of the Lake,” said the woman. “And what is the name of the lake?” said I. “I do not know,” said she; “but the place where it stands is called Maes Llyn, as I said before.” “Is the lake deep?” said I. “Very deep,” said she. “How deep?” said I. “Over the tops of the houses,” she replied. “Any fish in the lake?” “O yes! plenty.” “What fish?” “O there are llysowen, and the fish we call ysgetten.” “Eels and tench,” said I; “anything else?” “I do not know,” said the woman; “folks say that there used to be queer beast in the lake, water-cow used to come out at night and eat people’s clover in the fields.” “Pooh,” said I, “that was merely some person’s cow or horse, turned out at night to fill its belly at other folks’ expense.” “Perhaps so,” said the woman; “have you any more questions to ask?” “Only one,” said I; “how far is it to Tregaron?” “About three mile: are you going there?” “Yes, I am going to Tregaron.” “Pity that you did not come a little time ago,” said the woman; “you might then have had pleasant “It doesn’t matter,” said I; “I am never happier than when keeping my own company.” Bidding the woman good night, I went on. The moon now shone tolerably bright, so that I could see my way, and I sped on at a great rate. I had proceeded nearly half-a-mile, when I thought I heard steps in advance, and presently saw a figure at some little distance before me. The individual, probably hearing the noise of my approach, soon turned round and stood still. As I drew near I distinguished a stout burly figure of a man, seemingly about sixty, with a short pipe in his mouth. “Ah, is it you?” said the figure, in English, taking the pipe out of his mouth; “good evening, I am glad to see you.” Then shaking some burning embers out of his pipe, he put it into his pocket, and trudged on beside me. “Why are you glad to see me?” said I, slackening my pace; “I am a stranger to you; at any rate, you are to me.” “Always glad to see English gentleman,” said the figure; “always glad to see him.” “How do you know that I am an English gentleman?” said I. “O, I know Englishman at first sight; no one like him in the whole world.” “Have you seen many English gentlemen?” said I. “O yes, have seen plenty when I have been up in London.” “Have you been much in London?” “O yes; when I was a drover was up in London every month.” “And were you much in the society of English gentlemen when you were there?” “O yes; a great deal.” “Whereabouts in London did you chiefly meet them?” “Whereabouts? Oh, in Smithfield.” “Dear me!” said I; “I thought that was rather a place for butchers than gentlemen.” “Great place for gentlemen, I assure you,” said the figure; “met there the finest gentlemen I ever saw in “Do you know who he was?” said I. “O yes; know all about him; Earl of Leicester, from county of Norfolk; fine old man indeed—you very much like him—speak just in same way.” “Have you given up the business of drover long?” said I. “O yes; given him up a long time ever since domm’d railroad came into fashion.” “And what do you do now?” said I. “O, not much; live upon my means; picked up a little property, a few sticks, just enough for old crow to build him nest with—sometimes, however, undertake a little job for neighbouring people and get a little money. Can do everything in small way, if necessary; build little bridge, if asked;—Jack of all Trades—live very comfortably.” “And where do you live?” “O, not very far from Tregaron.” “And what kind of place is Tregaron?” “O, very good place; not quite so big as London, but very good place.” “What is it famed for?” said I. “O, famed for very good ham; best ham at Tregaron in all Shire Cardigan.” “Famed for anything else?” “O yes! famed for great man, clever thief, Twm Shone Catti, who was born there.” “Dear me!” said I; “when did he live?” “O, long time ago, more than two hundred year.” “And what became of him?” said I; “was he hung?” “Hung, no! only stupid thief hung. Twm Shone clever thief; died rich man, justice of the peace and mayor of Brecon.” “Very singular,” said I, “that they should make a thief mayor of Brecon.” “O, Twm Shone Catti very different from other “Ah, ah,” said I; “that’s the way of the world. He became rich, so they made him a magistrate; had he remained poor they would have hung him in spite of all his fun and good-nature. Well, can’t you tell me some of the things he did?” “O yes, can tell you plenty. One day in time of fair Tom Shone Catti goes into ironmonger’s shop in Llandovery. ‘Master,’ says he, ‘I want to buy a good large iron porridge pot; please to show me some.’ So the man brings out three or four big iron porridge pots, the very best he has. Tom takes up one and turns it round. ‘This looks very good porridge pot,’ said he; ‘I think it will suit me.’ Then he turns it round and round again, and at last lifts it above his head and peaks into it. ‘Ha, ha,’ says he; ‘this won’t do; I see one hole here. What mean you by wanting to sell article like this to stranger?’ Says the man, ‘there be no hole in it.’ ‘But there is,’ says Tom, holding it up and peaking into it again; ‘I see the hole quite plain. Take it and look into it yourself.’ So the man takes the pot, and having held it up and peaked in, ‘as I hope to be saved,’ says he, ‘I can see no hole.’ Says Tom, ‘good man, if you put your head in, you will find that there is a hole.’ So the man tries to put in his head, but having some difficulty Tom lends him a helping hand by jamming the pot quite down over the man’s face, then whisking up the other pots Tom leaves the shop, saying as he goes, ‘Friend, I suppose you now see that there is a hole in the pot, otherwise how could you have got your head inside?’” “Very good,” said I; “can you tell us something more about Twm Shone Catti?” “O yes; can tell you plenty about him. The farmer at Newton, just one mile beyond the bridge at Brecon, had one very fine bull, but with a very short tail. Says Tom to himself: ‘By God’s nails and blood I will steal the farmer’s bull, and then sell it to him for other bull in open market place.’ Then Tom makes one fine tail, just for all the world such a tail as the bull ought to “A clever fellow,” said I; “though it was rather cruel in him to cut off the poor bull’s tail. Now, perhaps, you will tell me how he came to marry the rich lady?” “O yes; I will tell you. One day as he was wandering about, dressed quite like a gentleman, he heard a cry, and found one very fine lady in the hands of one highwayman, who would have robbed and murdered her. Tom kills the highwayman and conducts the lady home to her house and her husband, for she was a married lady. Out of gratitude to Tom for the service he has done, the gentleman and lady invite him to stay with them. The gentleman, who is a great gentleman, fond of his bottle and hunting, takes mightily to Tom for his funny sayings, and because Tom’s a good hand at a glass when at table, and a good hand at a leap when in field; the lady also takes very much to Tom, because he one domm’d handsome fellow, with plenty of wit and what they call boetry,—for Tom amongst other things was no bad boet, and could treat a lady to pennillion about her face and her ancle, and the tip of her ear. At last Tom goes away upon his wanderings, not, however, before he has got one promise from the lady, that if ever she becomes disengaged she will become his wife. Well, after some time the lady’s husband dies and leaves her all his property, so that all of a sudden she finds herself one great independent lady, mistress of the whole of Strath Feen, one fair and pleasant valley far away there over the Eastern hills; by the Towey; on the borders of Shire Car. Tom, as soon as he hears the news of all this, sets off for Strath Feen and asks the lady to perform her word; but the lady, who finds herself one great and independent lady, and moreover does not quite like the idea of marrying one thief, for she had learnt who Tom was, does hum and hah, and at length begs to be excused, because she has changed her mind. Tom begs and entreats, but quite in vain, till at last she tells him to go away and not trouble her any more. Tom goes away, but does not yet lose hope. He takes up his quarters in one strange little cave, nearly at the “And what kind of justice of the peace did Tom make?” “Ow, the very best justice of the peace that there ever was. He made the old saying good: you must set one thief to catch one thief. He had not been a justice three year before there was not a thief in Shire Brecon nor in Shire Car, for they also made him justice of Carmarthenshire, and a child might walk through the country quite safe with a purse of gold in its hand. He said that as he himself could not have a finger in the pie, he would take care nobody else should. And yet he was not one bloody justice either; never hanged thief without giving him a chance to reform; but when he found him quite hardened he would say: ‘Hang up de rogue!’ O Tom was not a very hard man, and had one grateful heart for any old kindness which had been shown him. One day as Tom sat on de bench with other big wigs, Tom the biggest wig of the lot, a man was brought up charged with stealing one bullock. Tom no sooner cast eye on the man than he remembered him quite well. Many years before Tom had stole a pair of oxen, which he wished to get through the town of Brecon, but did not dare to drive them through, for at that very time there was one warrant out against Tom at Brecon for something he had done. So Tom stands with his oxen on the road, scratching his head and not knowing what to do. At length there comes a man along the road, making towards Brecon, to whom Tom says: ‘Honest man, I want these two oxen to be driven to such and such a public-house two miles beyond Brecon; I would drive them myself only I have business to do elsewhere of more importance. Now if you will drive them for me there and wait till I come, which will not be long, I will give you a groat.’ After descending a hill we came to what looked a small suburb, and presently crossed a bridge over the stream, the waters of which sparkled merrily in the beams of the moon which was now shining bright over some lofty hills to the south-east. Beyond the bridge was a small market-place, on the right-hand side of “Yonder it be,” said he, pointing to a large house at the farther end of the market-place. “Very good inn that—Talbot Arms—where they are always glad to see English gentlemans.” Then touching his hat, and politely waving his hand, he turned on one side, and I saw him no more. |