The Land of Dreams. Twm’s journey to London. A bet upon a bull. Ready Rosser outwitted, and Squire Prothero’s fright.

When Twm had any leisure or reflection, his mind was occupied with but one subject, so that at this period of his life he could hardly be said to be a man of many ideas. This remark applies only to the time when he indulged in retired country rambles, or when he was in the solitude of his own apartment. Confront him with any specimen of male humanity extant, and his faculties returned in all their natural vigour, and success generally attended his enterprises.

As before related, the moment he first set his eyes on the remarkable and pleasing countenance of the lady of Ystrad Feen, he felt a conviction that it was not the first time that he experienced the pleasurable sensation that then pervaded his whole soul. His continued intercourse with her during his prolonged stay stubbornly maintained his first conviction that they had met before; but when, where, and under what circumstances, he could not discover. At length, when the mind had been repeatedly fatigued with these vain tuggings at the nerve of memory, although compelled by exhaustion to give up the point, it was only for a season, to be resumed on the first opportunity for putting his powers of recollection again into practice.

After analyzing these mental enquiries with the closest precision, he came to the successive negative conclusions, that he could not possibly have seen her either at Graspacre Hall, at Inco Evan’s, nor, most assuredly, at the cottage of his mother. “Then, where on earth else?” muttered he, wiping his moist brow, which was a little fevered by the intensity of his labours in this mental research. Determined, for his future ease, to dismiss the thought altogether, he answered himself peevishly, “nowhere, surely, but in the land of dreams.”

Yes, indeed, this chance thought provided him with the key so long sought, to his remembrance of the face and form of his charming hostess, for scarcely had he uttered those talismanic words than they acted on his memory like Ithuriel’s spear;—the sentence fell like a flash of fire on the touch-spring of the whole mystery, and flashed in full effulgence, illuminating fully his long-darkened powers of recollection!

Little had he thought of putting to himself what appeared so vain a query, whether it was at Morris Greeg’s home of misery that he had beheld the never-to-be-forgotten face of beauty and intellect—but at length he traced it! And, of all places in the world, the most unfitting to be associated with it—the murky hay-loft of Cwm y Wern Ddu: in short mysterious still as the inference gave out, Lady Devereaux, in every glance, feature, and movement, was indeed the spirit of his glorious vision—the lady of his dream!

Thoroughly absorbed by this unexpected and most interesting discovery, he forgot altogether the lapse of time, and was startled by the sudden appearance of Sir George by his bed side. The friendly baronet inquired with much concern, if he was unwell, as they had been waiting breakfast for him full half an hour. On being assured of the contrary, and that he had only overslept himself, Sir George hastened down with the glad tidings, as the whole family feared the consequence of his temerity on the day before.

Our hero was soon among them, tendering his apologies, and parrying the graceful banterings and rallyings of the ladies, who rated him playfully for a sluggard and a lie-abed. The baronet soon recurred to the punishment inflicted by our hero on the intolerable vanity and presumption of the London buck. A knock at the parlour door checked the current of his discourse, and, on permission being given, in walked that little comical undersized fellow, familiarly called Tommy Thomas, the second whipper-in, with a face of ruefully long dimensions.

After a very worshipful bow, accompanied with many a bodily turn and twist, while his fingers wandered among the regions of his head and his whiskers, it turned out that honest Tom Thomas came to report a calamitous visitation that had befallen this very respectable house. During this worthy functionary’s absence at Llandovery, yesterday, (of course his stay was not prolonged by his curiosity to examine the quality of the different taps there!) he said that some audacious villain had been to the stable, and stolen all the food which he had purchased for the hounds.

“What food—what food?” inquired the baronet; for everything was important to him that was in any way connected with his darling hounds. “Why look you now, I wass py an oil plind mare for ten shillings and two quarts of beer from a travelling packman that wass sold off his goots, and not want her agen; so I did pargen for hur, see you now, and wass paay for hur, and dit put hur in te stapples, for foots for te hounce; and look you now, some loucey peggar wass steal hur.”

All the party except the baronet laughed heartily at this intimation; but our hero soon relieved both Sir George and honest Tommy Thomas, by informing the latter that his bargain was to be found at the bottom of the Craig Ddu ravine; on which the poor fellow joyfully withdrew. Twm immediately called him back, and astonished him with the present of a broad piece, in company with divers smaller silver coins, in acknowledgment that his precious bargain had enabled him to win his bet from the Londoner.

This was another piece of information for the baronet and his friends, and the cause of another explosion of triumphant laughter, at the expense of their late nuisance, the bragging Mr. Tomkins,—Sir George declaring that he had repeatedly thought of asking the question as to how he had possessed himself of the wretched animal; and now the mystery was amusingly explained.

One long winter’s morning, when the weather was so stormy as to forbid all hope of being able to stir out for the day, the baronet broke an unusually protracted silence by saying, “Mr. Jones, I have a favour to ask you.”

“Glad in my heart,” replied Twm, “for some change to make any return for the favours I have received.”

“Fiddle-de-dee with your favours! you talk like a mountainer, lad,” cried Sir George; “balance against us—owe thee much—Joan’s life—thy merry company; but how the devil to part with thee!—joy to thee, this London—death to me—no fox-hunting, all smoke and devilment!”

Lady Devereaux came out and explained that Sir George had a pressing necessity which he had long put off, of sending to London a considerable sum, due to a certain Mr. Martyn, being the last instalment of the purchase-money for some land bought of him by our baronet.

Having just received an application for the cash, Sir George was startled to find how much time had elapsed in the delay caused by his aversion to going personally to London; for nothing less would do in those days, except by a trusty messenger. “Thou’rt a lad of mettle, Twm, head as well as heart,” resumed Sir George—“arms to fight, and legs to run—roads full of thieves—can’t fight them all—out-wit them!”

Twm was at no loss to discover that the baronet was loth to leave his family residence, his fox-hunting, and his neighbours’ society, to encounter the perils and discomforts of a journey to the metropolis, and that he was wishful that Twm should go there as his representative, and accordingly he declared himself ready to commence his journey whenever Sir George might please.

“Let us have a little fine weather first,” replied his engaging hostess, “and in the meantime we will make the necessary preparations for your departure.”

Our hero gazed on her animated friendly face, with an admixture of the romantic gallantry of the knights of old, and the religious veneration of a devotee towards his patron saint; for he felt that his fate was somehow mysteriously connected with her influence, and never forgot that she was the spirit of his glorious vision, the lady of his dream.

Squire Prothero’s hearty laugh disturbed somewhat these gentle reflections. He had just bought a bull and hired a servant, and was in high glee at what he considered the accomplishment of a favourable bargain. The bull, he said, was a large and glorious white creature of the Herefordshire breed, and the man a small black one, of the true Cardiganshire runt description; but cunning as a fox, and keen as a kite. A fellow, the worthy squire said, who was proverbially known in the neighbourhood of Aberteivy for his exceeding shrewdness, by no other cognomen than Ready Rosser.

Twm chuckled inwardly at his recollection of the swain whom he had outwitted at Cardigan; and, in the hair-brain spirit that often possessed him, longed to break a lance with this worthy once more. As robbing the fields and hills was the prevalent villainy of the period, and as Prothero, as well as some of his neighbours, had been a considerable loser in numerous instances, he was the more elated with his present acquisition. “I have now,” quoth he, with the usual accompaniment of a hearty laugh, “a guardian for my ox and my ass, my bull, and my bulwarks, and I defy the most cunning thief in the country to ferret away my live things from the custody of Ready Rosser of Aberteivy.”

“Well, I’ll undertake to walk off with your bull, in spite of Ready Rosser, if you’ll leave it out three nights, let him do what he pleases,” said Twm, with a confident air.

“Done!” roared the merry Prothero, with a loud ho, ho! that shook the room; but recollecting himself, he added—“but hark ye, my buck of bucks; my bull shall not be left out to starve of these cold winter nights; he shall be secured within the shelter of the cow-house, and if thou canst abduct him from thence, within the three days and nights, welcome shalt thou be to his carcase, and twenty pounds to reward thy cleverness.”

“Done!” cried the baronet, “and I’ll pay forty pounds for him if he fails.”

“Remember, three days and three nights is the time given,” cried Twm, “as it will take two to get all in train.”

The squire lost no time in communicating his wager to the members of his household, and putting them on their guard. “Now mind,” he exclaimed, “our friendly antagonist is a sharp fellow, and you must sleep with your eyes open during the next three days. Look out, Ready Rosser.”

The worthy thus addressed merely laughed at the impudence of any one that could venture on such a bet. The emphasis which Twm laid upon the period of three days was merely a ruse de guerre of his, to throw his opponents off their guard, as he fully intended commencing operations soon as darkness came on.

The snow was thick on the ground; therefore, as the nearest approach to invisibility, our hero arrayed himself in a white frock and a cloth cap of the same colour, and sallied forth at eight o’clock in the evening, on a march of observation. Having arrived at Llwyn-mawr, the residence of Prothero, crossing the garden hedge, he coolly leaned over the gate, and listening to the squire and his party in the adjoining farm yard heard the whole plan of defence, as laid down by that skilful Cardiganshire engineer, Ready Rosser. The white bull the hero of the present wager, had been placed in his stall for the night, the door of the cow-house duly locked; and now the whole party of farm servants, under the command of Rosser, were busily employed by lantern light in forming the outward fortification.

In the first place, four harrows were laid one upon the other, across the entrance to the cow-house; on the upper harrow was placed a heavy roller, then a new implement in Welsh farming, and beside it two ploughs; the whole being surmounted by a sledge, used in those days for a harvest cart. To make this sledge, which was placed across the ploughs and roller, still more unmovable, Rosser had it heaped with hay, duly trodden down, carefully, as if intended for the foundation of a rick. His last stroke of masterly management was to suspend to one of the shafts of the sledge a large bell, which the squire, at the request of vicar Prichard, had procured from Bristol, to ornament the dome of his school, and to call the boys to their meals and studies. Rosser shrewdly remarked that any movement of these barricades, would be announced by its peal in the night.

By nine o’clock the whole party, including, the squire, were wrapt in sound slumber, and the field was open to the operations of our hero, who, in the meantime had returned to Ystrad Feen, and brought back from thence the tools that he required for the purpose. These consisted of an iron crow-bar and a saw, a bag containing something, and little Tommy Thomas for his avante courier, or look out, in case of surprisal. Twm had observed that the cow-house was formed of two pine-ends, substantially built of stone, while the back and front, were on planks, nailed across horizontally. The cunning Rosser had effectually fortified the front, where there was a door, but entirely neglected the back, where there was none; considering perhaps that the duck-pool or horse-pond, which ran parallel the length of the lowly edifice, would prove a sufficient rear-guard. But greatly did that scheming wight err in his estimation of the ingenious daring of his adversary; for although three feet deep, black, and full of frogs and their spawn, it was through the middle of this domestic lake, our Twm, shouldering his crow-bar, made his way to commence the attack, while Tommy Thomas occupied his post of observation on the top of an old blighted oak stump.

To the great satisfaction of our hero, his onset was auspicious; he succeeded without noise in wrenching off numerous planks, and in a short time entered the building. He made up at once to the grand object of his enterprise, and approached the mighty brute with deference; then patting him kindly with a patronizing air, he called familiarly by his name, which he had learnt was Bishop, from the fair resemblance perhaps, of his outward bull to the outward man of the lord of the lawn sleeves; or, in his dignified rotundity, to some specimens of that princely priest of our favoured land. Bishop having sniffed and snorted a little, wondering at the temerity of the two-legged animal that so daringly sought his acquaintance treated his advances as due homage, and resumed his easy contemplative posture, like a politic Autocrat that condescendingly gives audience to a loyal peasant. Guessing the yearning of his mighty mind, and no less mighty carcase, our hero presented him with a small bag of oats, to conciliate his good-will, which being graciously received, gave goodly omen of the magnanimity of his disposition.

Twm now proceeded to his task of enlarging the opening for his egress. After having heaved up, with his crowbar, two of the uprights which formed the ribs of the old cow-house, from which he had removed its sinews the planks, just as he was enjoying his conquest over his worst obstructions, he found to his dismay, that he had reckoned without his hostess, as Lady Fortune claimed more from his exertions than he thought due. A strong square heart-of-oak piece of timber ran along, horizontally, the whole length of the building, which nothing but a saw could remove. As the bull, Bishop, was too lordly and unaccustomed to diminish his lofty altitude by dropping on his knees, like the meek docile camel, and too stiff and heavy to spring like the active dog, nothing remained but to remove in some way, the stout wood that formed a bar across his furious-looking forehead.

As he considered the noise of sawing would rouse the Philistines of Llwynmawr, for an instant Twm’s inventive powers were at a stand; but they soon rallied, and he how had to strike a bold stroke, that promised anything but success, while certain failure would otherwise be his lot. From the bag he took two pairs of top-boots which he had provided, and drew them, one at a time, with the toes pointing backward, on the feet of the bull, Bishop, who seemed at first modestly to decline such an unusual honour. But as Twm was very pressing, he meekly submitted, like a bashful maid to don her wedding robes, or like King Richard, to have fortune buckled on his back; for he in fact endured to have his boots corded above his knees.

Twm now took the crow-bar to the front of the house, and fixed it firmly through an old-fashioned iron ring in the farm-house door, so as utterly to prevent the opening of it from the inside. Fastening next a halter to the bell attached to the sledge-shaft, he instructed Tommy Thomas to ring and roar “fire” with all the strength of his arms and might of his lungs; applying as he spoke, a candle to the hay on the sledge, while he retreated to saw, amid this din, the stubborn wood that barred alike the bull’s departure and the progress of the enterprise.

Whiz, crick, crack went the blaze! ding, dong! went the clapper of the bell! fire, fire! roared the scare-crow voice of little Tommy Thomas; Twm’s saw being unheard through the prevalence of these mightier sounds. The squire was the first awakened by the unusual noise, and terrible was the fat man’s fright on seeing the blazing pyramid that illumined the whole house inwardly, and all over the yard, while he beheld some little devil ringing the bell and roaring “fire!” like a sergeant major while drilling a battalion.

The activity of a fat man in a fright is truly ludicrous. The nimbleness of the thinnest frightened tailor that ever hid himself behind a fishing-rod, was mere sluggishness compared to the flea-hopping trips of Squire Prothero, although almost too large to conceal himself behind a church, in some mountain parishes of Wales. Down stairs he rolled, ten steps at a time, and tried in vain to open the outward door. Up he rushed again, as if his unbreeched hams and shirted shoulders had wings appended to them, to assist his upward flight, bellowing “fire! fire!” till hoarseness silenced him.

Just as he lost his voice, he found a deputy for it in a broomstick, with which he ran into the men’s room, cudgelling Ready Rosser and the rest through the bed-clothes, till they roared a dissonant chorus to the hoarse bass of “fire, fire!” “get up and be d—ned to you, or be fried in your own tallow!”

Still the bell rung, and still Tommy Thomas lustily roared “fire!” Ready Rosser, overwhelmed with fear and stupidity, proved his name to be henceforth a misnomer, having, with the rest of the clowns, utterly failed to open the door. Running up stairs again, they met the squire at the top, flourishing his cudgel like a flail about their heads. In his extremity, to give poor Rosser his due, he tried the notable plan of rising above his troubles by climbing up the chimney; but when he had nearly attained the top, like many other ambitious aspirants, he lost his footing, and tumbled down to the bottom, blackened with soot, and smarting with his bruises. At length this scene of confusion received a turn by the adventurous daring of Gaby Snipe, a parish apprentice boy, who, squeezing himself through a narrow casement, dropped to the ground, and ultimately succeeded in removing the crow-bar and opening the door.

During this scene of dire confusion, Twm’s enterprise had progressed swimmingly, and he had his worship the bull out of the cow-house, through the horse-pond, over the snow-clad field, and into a lane that led to the parish road, which brought them to a sheep-cot on the high mountain top, that almost overhung the mansion Ystrad Feen. Just as he had bestowed his precious charge within the aforesaid shelter, he was joined by little Tommy Thomas, terribly out of breath with running and laughing. Our hero had also his full share of laughter, daylight having now pretty well advanced, in noting the paces of the mighty brute as he stamped it along in his top-boots, with, the toes reversed, being the first of the family, as he deemed, that ever was honoured with such a dashing leg and heel trimmings.

Tommy Thomas related that on the descent of Gaby Snipe, he quitted his bell-rope and hid himself awhile to witness the result of the outpouring from the house. The rush was whimsical to witness, for fear, as usual, had exaggerated the danger, and when in the yard they ran to and fro like scared rabbits, not knowing what to do, nor what was required of them. The hay being all consumed, and the fire self-extinguished, Ready Rosser called out, “water, water!” which, in their confusion and imperfect state of wakefulness, they dashed, by pailsful, at one another, till at length a general fight commenced in the farm-yard; and when the squire came and parted them, not one could tell how the fray began, any more than they could account for the stirring incidents that had frightened them all out of their senses.