Twm goes the way of all flesh, and “falls in love.” So does the Squire, with Twm’s maiden. Twm defeats his master’s scheme. The adventures of farmer Cadwgan’s ass. Twm makes his exit from Squire Graspacre’s “local habitation.”

The squire and his man Twm returning one evening from grousing on the hills, in their descent towards the valleys had to pass by a small farm-house, inhabited by a tenant of the squire’s, who whispered Twm, “This is the keep, the close, that contains better game, and can afford livelier sport than any I have had to-day.” Twm by his silence testified his ignorance of his drift; but he resumed, “What! you don’t understand me? haven’t you seen this farmer’s plump partridge of a daughter, the pretty Gwenny Cadwgan, you young dog! I am determined to have that bird down, some way or other, and you must help me. She is fine game, and well worth bringing down. She will take time, I know, but if she should be shy why then

“I’ll weedle, coax, and try my arts,
For I can play a thousand parts;
When she shall weep, I’ll laugh and sing:
The devil to my aid I’ll bring.
She’ll ne’er resist me long, I ween,
For many a victory I have seen;
The wench will kick, but what of that?
I’ll bear the brunt: she’s plump and fat.”

Before Twm could reply, the squire alighted and entered the cottage, at the door of which the farmer and Gwenny Cadwgan, now grown a fine and blooming young woman, met and welcomed their landlord. Some oaten bread, butter, and cheese, and a cup of homely-brewed ale were put before him; and while he ate, the pretty Gwenny carried a portion to Twm, as he held the horses in the yard. While he received the welcome food from the hand of the happy smiling girl, he perceived the blush with which she gave it, and felt in his breast certain sensations no less new than agreeable.

Thus, while each other made brief allusions to their days of childhood, a tear started in the eyes of Twm, on seeing which the bright eyes of Gwenny were also suffused, till the pearly drops over-ran her fresh ruddy cheeks. Her father then calling her in, she suddenly shook hands with, and left our hero, who in that hour became a captive to her charms, while the innocent girl herself then felt the first shooting of a passion that daily grew, in sympathy with his own.

The squire having finished his hasty lunch, he remarked to his tenant Cadwgan in a hurried manner, that he should have company the next day to entertain at his house, and would thank him to let his lass come to the hall to assist in attending on them. The farmer of course, assented in words, for what small farmer would dare to deny his landlord such a favour, though his heart might tremble with apprehensions?

After the squire’s departure, Cadwgan became deeply distressed at the predicament in which he found himself; to deny his landlord, was probably to lose his farm; and to assent to his specious proposal, was to endanger, if not utterly ruin the innocence of his darling daughter; as since the death of Mistress Graspacre, more than one of the neighbouring damsels had to rue their intimacy with the squire, who inveighled them to the hall with all sorts of arts, pretences, and excuses, and then contriving that he should be alone with the object of his lust, had paid them a little of that “delicate attention” which he had previously recommended to the father of Twm. The poor farmer passed a restless night of bitter reflection, and saw daylight with an agonized spirit; but the active mind imbued with honourable ideas, never fails in due season to work its own relief.

When Twm appeared next morning on horse-back before his door, with a pillion behind, Cadwgan’s terrors had vanished, his indignation at the premeditated injuries intended him, was roused, and with braced nerves, and a firm heart, he determined to deny the squire, and abide the consequences, be what they might. But honest nature was elsewhere at work in Cadwgan’s favour, and unknown to him, had raised a friend to save him from the impending perils, to the preservation of both his farm and his more precious daughter, in the person of young Twm Shon Catty.

On his journey home the last evening, while listening to his master’s commands, and hearing his plan to inveigle the innocent Gwenny, Twm was mentally engaged in studying some mode to preserve her from his clutches; and at length heroically determined to save the object of his admiration, even at the risk of losing his place, and being cast again on the wide world. He fed his fancy all night in dwelling on her beauty, and the merit of preserving her, while he ardently enjoyed in anticipation the sacrifice he was about to make for her sake.

The morning came, and the squire gave the dreaded order, “Take the horse Dragon, put a saddle and pillion on him, and bring the farmer’s lass behind you here; tell Cadwgan not to expect her back to-night, but she shall be brought to-morrow, and by that time, Twm, we shall have shot the plump partridge, and found her good game, I doubt not.” Although Twm had been preparing himself to give a doughty reply, and so commence the heroic character he had modelled, yet when the moment came, his resolution failed him, and the high-sounding words were not forthcoming; although the determination to disobey remained as strong as ever. He rode off, through Tregaron, and up the hills, in a melancholy mood, without any settled purpose, except that of straightforward resistance to the orders he had received. As he jogged on listlessly, he was suddenly roused from his reverie by the braying of Cadwgan’s ass, that was grazing in a green lane, which he was about to enter. Such an animal being a rarity in the country, Twm, with surprise, audibly muttered, “What the devil is that!”

An old woman at that moment opening the gate, which she civilly held for our hero to pass into the lane which she was leaving, hearing his words, replied, “It is only Cadwgan’s ass.” Twm, whose thoughts ran entirely on the farmer’s fair daughter, mistaking what she said, rejoined, “Cadwgan’s lass, did you say?” “You are very ready with your mocks and pranks, Master Twm,” cried the old woman, slamming the gate against the buttocks of the horse, “but you know very well that I said Cadwgan’s ass, and not lass! for I should be very sorry to compare the good and pretty Gwenny Cadwgan to such an ugly ill-voiced animal.” Twm was amused at the error he had made, made the good dame the amende honourable, bade her good day, and rode forward with new spirits, for this little adventure had furnished him with the means of deliverance for little Gwenny, and a defeat to his master’s unlawful desires.

The farmer’s mind being made up, as before observed, to refuse the attendance of his daughter at his landlord’s, he was astonished to hear Twm say, “Master Cadwgan, it was Squire Graspacre’s order to me, that I should saddle this horse, come to your house, and, with your consent, bring your ass to him, on the pillion behind me.” Cadwgan stared doubtfully, and Twm resumed, “I hope you are too sensible to question or look into the reasonableness of his whims, and will be so good as to catch the strange animal, which I passed on the road, that we may tie him across the pillion.”

Cadwgan immediately concluded this to be a providential mistake of the young man’s, that might have the most desirable effect of relieving him from his apprehended trouble, and with a ready presence of mind said, laughing, “To be sure it is no business of mine to look into the oddness of his fancies, and he shall have my ass by all means.”

“Put an L to ass, and ’twill be lass,” said Twm seriously, and with emphasis, “and such is the squire’s demand; but,” said the youth with, rising enthusiasm, “I will risk my life to save your daughter from his snares, and will feign that I thought he said ass instead of lass, to be brought on the pillion.” Affected by this instance of generosity, the farmer, as well as his lovely daughter, burst into tears, thanking and blessing him; whilst the former told him that if he lost his place through the adventure, his home was always open to him. Twm was not slow in thanking them for their kindness, but a smile from Gwenny rewarded him more than anything said, or anything promised could do.

While Cadwgan went out to catch the long-eared victim, Twm spent a delicious half-hour in the company of fair Gwenny; and took that opportunity to protest the ardour of his affection for her, and vowed that whatever fortune favoured him with the means of getting a livelihood independent of servitude, it would be the glory of his life to come and ask her to be his own. The maiden heard him with streaming eyes and heaving breast, nor withdrew her cheek when her lover imprinted on it affection’s first kiss; she considered it as a sacred compact, the seal of a true lover’s faithful covenant; one never to be broken by the intrusion of another.

Cadwgan at length returned, with his charge in a halter, grumbling and abusing the beast at every step, in consequence of having led a pretty dance in chase of her. With the assistance of Twm and a neighbouring cottager, he now tied the animal’s legs and lifted her into the seat of the pillion, a situation that her struggling and resistance indicated to be more elevated than comfortable. Twm, however, rode on slowly with his grotesque companion, without the occurrence of an accident, till they arrived at Tregaron; when the whole town, men, women, and children, came to enjoy the strange sight, amidst roars and shouts of laughter. The ass either was not comfortable, or she felt her asinine dignity assailed, and therefore “he haw’d” her disapproval of the proceedings. She further manifested her displeasure by making a strong attempt to reach terra firma, eventually thinking it unjust to make her ride when she was perfectly able and willing to walk.

Straining every nerve to liberate her captive limbs, she at length succeeded in breaking the cord by which she was fastened to the pillion, and tumbled in a heap to the ground, where she struggled hard, and soon shook off every remnant of her hempen gyves; and in all the pride of high achievement and newly acquired freedom, ran with all her might through the town, brandishing her heels to right and left whenever any person approached to impede her career, till through a long narrow lane she reached the mountains. Here she seemed to defy her numerous pursuers; but after a long chase, which lasted till dusk, she was surrounded, secured, and placed in her former situation behind our hero on the pillion.

At length he reached Graspacre Hall, and made his approach at the back of the house. His step-father assisted him and his companion to alight, leading the latter to the stable, while Twm went to inform his master of his arrival, and the cause of his long delay. A tremor suddenly seemed to paralyze poor Twm, well knowing the wrath his disappointed master would shower down upon his devoted head. He mentally thought he should be thankful to anybody who could liberate him out of this dilemma; but after his fit of apprehension had lasted a few minutes, he plucked up his courage and his breeches at the same time, exclaiming, “Well! he can’t kill me for it:” and thus self-comforted he entered the house.

The squire at this time was seated at the head of the table, pushing down the bottle among his friends, principally consisting of the neighbouring gentry.

In the course of the day he had sent several times to know whether Twm had arrived. When little Pembroke at length went in to announce his return, he desired he should be immediately sent in, and Twm approached him with a burning cheek and an agitated heart. He questioned him in an undertone, asking if he had brought her, and where he had been so long; to which Twm replied, “Yes, sir, I have brought her, and much trouble I had with her, for she didn’t like to come, thinking perhaps you meant her foul play; and once she escaped off the pillion into the mountain.”

“The devil she did!” cried the squire; “but you caught her again?”

“Oh yes, sir, after losing much time, I have brought her at last, and she is now much tamer than at first; and you can do what you like with her.”

“That’s very well,” said the squire; “I like the notion that she is very tractable.”

“Oh! you’ll find she’ll do anything now, though I had to make her know her right position. She rolled off the pillion in Tregaron, and showed her legs most dreadfully.”

“Fie! fie!” said the squire, “I hope you did not look at them?”

“Faith, but I did then, and very pretty they looked. But you’ll be able to give your own opinion, sir, by and bye.”

“A good lad, Twm, a good lad, remind me to give you a golden angel for this day’s work; but what have you done with her? where is she?”

“Why, sir,” cried Twm. “I tied her up to the manger and locked the door, to prevent her escape.”

“Shame, Twm, shame! you ought not to have done that, for she will think it was by my orders, and hate me perhaps for my supposed cruelty,” quoth the squire, thinking all the time that Cadwgan’s lass, and not his ass was the subject of discussion.

“No, sir,” replied Twm, “but it is likely though, that she will have an ill-will towards me, as long as she lives, for it.”

“Well, well,” said his master hastily, “take her from the stable into the housekeeper’s room, and tell Margery to comfort her and give her a glass of wine.”

This was too much for Twm, and the smothered laugh burst out in spite of his efforts; on which, his master with a severe brow, asked how he dared to laugh in his presence. “Indeed I could not help it,” cried Twm, “but I don’t think she ever drank a glass of wine in her life, and perhaps might not like it.”

“Why, that’s true; then tell the butler to give out a bottle of the sweet home-made wine for her—let it be a bottle of the cowslip wine, and say that I am very sorry for the trouble and vexation she has had.”

“Yes, sir,” cried Twm, who made his bow and retired to the servants’ hall, where he made them acquainted with the squire’s freak of having farmer Cadwgan’s ass brought there on a pillion behind him; and that it was his master’s orders that she was to be brought into the house-keeper’s room, and a glass of wine given to her, and that Margery was to make her comfortable.

They were all aware of their master’s occasional eccentricities, and that he was as absolute in demanding obedience to his wildest whims, as to the most important matter in the world. With one accord they therefore brought the ass, not without great trouble and opposition on the part of the poor animal, into the housekeeper’s room, where Glamorgan Margery spread a small carpet for her to lie on, and amidst the side-aching laughter of the servants, offered a glass of wine, which no persuasion could induce her to accept.

The squire had given orders that no person was to answer the bell the rest of the evening but Twm. It was now rung, and in went our hero, when he was asked, “How is she now?” “Rather fatigued sir; she doesn’t like wine, nor would she touch a drop of it.” “Well, well,” said the squire, “if she likes ale better let her have some, with a cold fowl and something of the nicest in the house, though perhaps she would prefer a cup of tea to anything. After she has taken the refreshment she chooses, tell Margery to put her to bed, in the green chamber, then lock the door and bring me the key. I can then visit her when I am ready, you know Twm, and depend upon it I will reward you in the morning.” Here Twm’s risible faculties were again oppressed to bursting, but a look from his master checked him, though he bit his lip till the blood started in the aid to check his laughter.

Squire Graspacre now secretly anticipated the completion of his scheme, anxiously waiting for the departure of his guests, who by their noisy hilarity had long given notice that a little more devotion to the bottle would lay them under the table. The wily squire however desisted, before he had passed the boundary of what topers call half and half, considering in the mean time, that his plan would best succeed by not appearing before Gwenny Cadwgan till midnight, when all his household would be asleep, and himself supposed to have retired to his room.

After some trouble, which was heightened by their forced suppression of laughter, that however, broke out in spite of them, the servants got the donkey up stairs, having previously fed her with bread, oaten cakes, and oats, on her rejection of ale, wine, fowl, and tea, which to their great amusement they had successively offered her in vain. Having brought the poor animal into the green room, the best chamber in the house, and kept only for particular guests, they placed her on the fine handsome bed; the legs being already tied, they fastened them also to the bed-posts. Twm heightened the drollery of the scene by cutting two holes in a night-cap, drawing through the donkey’s ears, and slitting it at the edge, he drew the cap down carefully towards the eyes. The bed-clothes were then carefully drawn up to the ass’s neck, the curtains half drawn, and the first ass that ever slept in a feather bed was then left to enjoy its slumbers as best it could. They bade her good night, locked the door, and gave the key to their master.

The guests at length dispersing, they all rode off as well as their muddled heads would let them, to their respective homes; the squire, as was his custom, locked the door himself, and saw every light in the house out before he retired. At length he gained his chamber, and all was still in Graspacre-Hall. The amorous squire, chuckling at his luck as he thought of the fair lass in the green-room, grew too impatient to wait till the proposed hour of midnight, and leaving his candle on his own table, took off his shoes, and softly approached the casket that he deemed contained his precious jewel.

Applying the key, he opened the door very gently, and cautiously approaching the side of the bed, said in a whisper towards the pillow, “Don’t be alarmed, Gwenny, my dear, ’tis I, the squire; fear nothing, my girl, this will be the making of your fortune, my dear; and if you are as kind and loving as I could wish you to be, you may soon become the second Mrs. Graspacre.”

Hearing no reply, he considered that according to the old usage, silence gives consent, and proceeded to bend his face down to kiss the fair one, when a severe bounce inflicted by his incognita’s snout, knocked him backwards off the bed to the floor, and set his nose a-bleeding.

After recovering himself a little, though labouring under the delusion that the blow had been struck by the hand of the fair maiden, he exclaimed in an under-tone, “You little wixen! how dare you treat me in this manner?” The answer received was a loud and repeated “he-haw,” with the clattering of hoofs against the bedposts. Now hoofs are suggestive, and the squire rather believed in the supernatural. He again proceeded towards the bed, but was completely horror-struck at the loud bray which the terrified ass sent forth; while the poor terrified animal, after a hard struggle, liberating her limbs, struck him a severe blow on the forehead with her hoof, and getting off the bed, made a terrible clatter with her shod feet over the boards of the room. The unfortunate squire, although hitherto a loud decrier of superstition, now felt a thrill of the utmost horror pervade him, while he decreed himself ensnared by the enemy of man, as the punishment of his guilty intentions; and after a clamorous outcry fell senseless on the floor.

The servants having but concealed the light, expecting some denouement of this sort, now rushed in, and saw their fallen master ghastly pale, with streams of perspiration running over his forehead, while his wildly-staring eyes alternately looked at, and turned from, the monster of alarm. When he had sufficiently recovered to learn the real state of affairs, from little Pembroke, who had been made Twm’s confidante in this matter—how that wight had brought the farmer’s ass according to his orders behind him on the pillion, although he had been in some doubt whether he had said Cadwgan’s ass or Cadwgan’s lass, the squire’s rage was boundless.

Squire Graspacre’s rage can be better imagined than described, and all the dormant fiends of evil were at once awakened in his bosom, and the feeling which first actuated him was that of revenge upon Twm, and secondly shame at having been duped, and that with the knowledge of all his household. Exasperated at the trick put upon him by a mere youngster, and a menial, and scarcely less provoked at the exposure he had made of himself before his servants, down he rushed into the hall, and snatched a heavy horsewhip, unlocked the door, and made his way towards our hero’s chamber over the laundry; but when he reached the bedside, prepared to inflict the severest punishment that the thong of a whip was capable of, how great was his mortification to find the bird had flown! His chagrin and resentment were anything but lessened, when he took a piece of paper off the bed, on which, in a large hand, were written these pretty lines:—

If from lass you take the letter L.
Then lass is ass if I have learnt to spell;
Yes ass and lass methinks are coupled ill.
Though human asses follow lasses still!
An ass were I too—could I so arrange ill,
If now I stay’d to claim my promised angel.