Twm at Brecon. An angling feat. Twm in a musical character. Wins the prize offered for a poem. A new style of marriage—and some other little “odds and ends.” Conclusion.

With the earliest rays of the morning’s sun Twm was astir, and during a long ramble on the hills, was busily turning over in his mind the exciting-incidents of the previous day. Unable to account for his second disappointment of seeing his mistress, according to promise, he gave way to despondency, and conjectured the worst—that she was no longer true to his vows, but had yielded to the persuasions of her haughty relative, and become a renegade both to love and to honour. He was now, however, so near her residence, he would at least ascertain how matters stood; and, after many efforts of resolution, he descended the hill for that purpose.

On crossing the Towey, he was surprised to find that the “gallant grey” was still left for him; he was busily feeding in an adjoining field, and the saddle and bridle hung dangling from a storm-stricken old thorn. He felt this, directly, as a handsome piece of attention to him, on the part of Powell of Brecon, who, doubtless, had left it there for convenience.

On examining further, he found a note, tied to the bridle, from that generous individual, inviting him to be present at the Eisteddvod, the Races and the Ball, which were to take place successively in the gay town of Brecon.He was doomed to disappointment; for on reaching Ystrad Feen he found nobody but the servants, who informed him that their lady, Miss Meredith, and the late visitors, were all gone to Brecon, and would not return for some days. This intelligence determined him to go there also; and recollecting a trunk of clothes of his, which had been left ever since his sojourning there, he called for it; and having dressed himself, and placed with other things, in his saddle-bags, an elegant suit which he had brought from London, he mounted his horse, and rode off for Brecon.

About a couple of miles beyond Trecastle, he overtook a poor fellow driving an ass, laden with coarse crockery ware, who turned out to be no other than Ready Rosser. Having long been married to a Cardiganshire lass, they both, pretending to be single, entered Squire Prothero’s service at the same time; but the circumstance being at length discovered, they were both discharged a few days since, and now commenced the crockery business for a livelihood. After a few jests on the white bull, ox, and sheep, Twm spurred on, but not before he had purchased the whole of Rosser’s stock, which, however, that worthy was to take to Brecon, for a purpose to be hereafter described.

At Brecon he took lodgings at the Three Cocks’ inn, to which he gave a preference, on account of the sign being the armorial bearings of the celebrated David Gam, (Shakespeare’s Captain Fuellin,) the hero of Agincourt.

Crowds still poured into the town from all points of the compass, until it seemed impossible that the streets would hold them. While our hero looked through the window to observe Rosser, who arranged his crockery in front of the inn, his attention was suddenly caught by the sound of a harp, which proceeded from the kitchen. To his great surprise, he found the performer to be his old friend the venerable Ianto Gwyn of Tregaron.

The old man was very glad to see him, and after learning the particulars of the fortunes he had met since he left his native town, proceeded to inform him of the Tregaron news. His mother was well three weeks ago, and had received the various sums which he had sent her at different times, and was in daily hopes of burying her churl of a husband. Rachael Ketch was now dead; having broken her heart for the loss of her money, which had been stolen by Watt the mole-catcher, who was transported.

In conclusion, the old man said that he had come to the Eisteddvod rather as a spectator than a candidate for the prize, having accidentally hurt his right hand, which nearly disabled him altogether from playing. “That circumstance is now the more provoking,” said the old man, “as I am convinced that were my hand well, I should certainly win the noble silver harp, which is to be the meed of the best player.”

Twm took his musical friend upstairs, and, after dining together, began coquetting with the harp, which with the hand of a ready player, he soon tinkled into alternate fits of grief and laughter, as he ran over many of our most popular airs.

The old man jumped up from his seat, and embraced him with rapture, protesting that he could not fail to win the harp, if he chose to be a candidate. Our hero, having practised but little on the harp since he left London, felt considerable diffidence in becoming a competitor among proficients in music, but resolved, at any rate to avail himself of the instructions of his friend Ianto Gwyn.

Intensely anxious to meet his mistress once more, he sought an early opportunity of a walk through the streets; but instead of the desired one, it was his lot to meet Powell the magistrate, who gave him a jocular and right hearty welcome. They were soon joined by two other high bloods of the town, one a wealthy attorney, named Phillips, and the other a reverend and right-portly son of the church, who shone more at the punch-bowl than in the pulpit. They all adjourned to the parlour of the Three Cocks, where the best of wine was soon in request, and a gay scene of conviviality and good fellowship ensued.

Twm’s fame had of course preceded him, for Powell’s tongue had been busy in his praise, although he had done him no more than justice, and those four worthies soon understanding each other, they spent a pretty jolly time of it. Being all lads of the turf, the practice of betting was familiar to them; and the lawyer offered to oppose Twm in a match of angling for five pounds; and the bet should be, that “whoever fished the largest weight, no matter of what kind, in half an hour, should be declared the winner.” Our hero, although a poor angler, accepted the wager, and Powell, as the umpire, wrote down the terms of it, which was signed by each.

Possessing himself of angling paraphernalia, he repaired with them to the bridge, and had the upper side of it assigned to him, while Phillips had the lower. The latter displayed a grand morocco pocket-book, filled in the neatest order with the most choice artificial flies, of every description, and soon had his handsome rod in order; while the former had nothing better than what could be procured at a shop. The lawyer landed fish after fish, with great rapidity, and when half the given time had expired, Twm found himself much in arrears, and the continued good fortune of his antagonist left him, apparently, no chance of ultimate success.

“Confound these good-for-nothing flies! fetch me a beef steak!” cried he at last, and gave money for that purpose to a by-stander, who immediately brought the article wanted.

“There’s a Cardy angler, fishing for trout with a beef steak!” cried the Breconians, with an exulting laugh. Twm made no reply, but fastened several hooks in different parts of a strong line, to each of which he attached a small piece of beef; and, watching the movement of a flock of ducks that floated in luxurious ease down the Usk, he threw the whole among them.

Loud was the clamour of the aquatic crew, as they hustled each other, in their eagerness to partake of the showered feast, which they soon gobbled, and were drawn up to the top of the bridge by the singular angler above, amid the shouts of laughter of the numerous spectators.

This feat was greeted by the by-standers with shouts of derision, as they thought that Twm, in thus trifling, had practically confessed his inability to win the wager. Powell called time, saying that the half hour had struck. Phillips, as the conscious winner, produced a goodly show of trout, and, as Twm had caught but four small fish, said it would be idle to weigh them.

“Not so,” replied our wag, “let the written terms of the bet be read, and you will find that my ducks have a right to be weighed against your boasted trout, aye! and shall make them kick the beam.”

Phillips started at such an assertion made in earnest, and Powell read, “Whoever fished the largest weight, no matter of what kind, would be declared the winner,” and as umpire, awarded the five pounds to our hero.

Some merriment at the expense of Powell was caused by his declaring himself the unlucky proprietor of the said flock of ducks; but with his usual good-humour, he proposed that the ducks and the trout should be cooked at his house for their supper, in which Phillips acquiesced.

After dinner, when the bottle had passed pretty freely, and all were prepared for any fun which might fall in their way, our hero contrived to bring Powell, who had hitherto fought shy, into a bet with him. He declared that a stranger as he was to Brecon, he firmly believed that he could command, and be obeyed there, with greater promptitude than himself, although a justice of the peace and one of the quorum.

“I’ll lay you twenty pounds to the contrary,” cried the magistrate.

“Done!” replied Twm, “and we can prove it without quitting this room, by opening the window, and practising on some of those people opposite.”

“Let it be yon crockery-wareman, who is the most conspicuous,” said Powell, and Twm, of course, could have no possible objection.

The magistrate opened the window, and called in a tone of authority, “Come here, you fellow; go directly to the Black Lion, and tell the landlord to let you have Justice Powell’s black mare, and bring her here to me.”

“I can’t quit my goods, sir,” said Rosser, “or I would willingly oblige you.”

“I tell you, fellow, do as I order you, or I shall kick you and your ware out of the town,” said Powell in a blustering tone, and with a look the most terrifying that he could assume.

Rosser repeated his former answer; and when the magistrate increased his threats, he burst out into a rude laugh, and, without further difference, said he really believed that his worship was drunk: this was enough, and the worthy magistrate felt himself completely put down.

Our wag now took his turn, and commenced with him: “I say, fellow, did’st thou ever see or hear of Twm Shon Catty?”

“Yes,” replied Rosser, “often at Llandovery; once at Cardigan; and now I see him before me at Brecon.”

“Well then,” continued Twm, “I order thee to give us a dance in the middle of the crockery.”

“With all my heart, if you order it, for I should dread to disobey Twm Shon Catty more than twenty times my loss.” On which he jumped, capered and danced, in the midst of his brittle commodities, kicking and treading the dishes, pans, basins, and other articles, to powder beneath his feet.

“By the Lord, thou art a strange fellow!” said Powell, as he paid him the amount of his forfeit; “and I foresee that there’s much more luck for thee than thou dreamest of: and I confidently anticipate what will come in thy favour, my Cardiganian hero.”Twm was much surprised to hear Powell speak thus, as his manner implied much more than his words; but his astonishment was considerably augmented when, in a subsequent conversation, our hero discovered that Powell knew all his affairs and connections with the lady of Ystrad Feen.

“She once,” said he, “played me a jade’s trick; but no matter, we are now friends, and she has even assisted me in my suit with her amiable friend, Miss Meredith. In heart and soul, she is attached to you, Jones; but she is a weak yielding woman beneath the terrors of her father’s frown, and in some evil hour might again sacrifice herself, if you are too long out of her sight. She is proud of you and of your wild achievements, and even finds excuses for your most blameable courses. Now, my advice is, that you will endeavour to distinguish yourself during the races, and start for the gold plate: the grey horse, I suspect, has blood in him, and will beat the best that is to run.”

“But why,” asked Twm, “did she not keep her promise to meet me at Llandovery fair?”

Powell replied that she was prevented by her father’s sudden illness; and great is her sorrow for the disappointment she must have caused.

On the following day the town speedily put on its gala dresses, and flags waved from every corner. Bells were rung and guns fired in honour of the festival, which consisted of a rather extensive programme, namely the Eisteddvod, Races, and Ball. Between eleven and twelve o’clock, our hero, with other musical and literary competitors, entered the Town-Hall, in bardic trim, with the harp of his friend Ianto Gwyn, slung by a blue ribbon, and attached to his shoulder.

The audience included all the intellect, taste, and fashion of the district, and the competitors were greeted on their appearance, with hearty and long-continued applause.

At length the business of the meeting was begun by a speech from the president, who occupied a central seat on the raised platform. He dwelt emphatically on the laudable object of the Eisteddvod; “to preserve from annihilation one of the most ancient languages spoken by mankind, remarkable for its perspicuousness, energy, and expression; that, like a perpetual living miracle, kept its firm stand in this solitary nook of country;—to revive and preserve the beautiful melodies which had been the delight of our gallant and patriotic forefathers;—and lastly by emulation, to keep alive the brilliant blaze of the native Awen, the darling poesy of the land, which yielded their fragrant and refreshing blossoms, lovely sacrifice on the altar of Taste.”

Penillion singing succeeded; in which the minstrels of Merionethshire excelled. The rest went on in rotation, minutely according to the description given by the ever-faithful Drayton, to whose pages we refer the reader.

There was a surprise awaiting Twm. Among the given subjects for the Cowydd, or Poem, was “Govid,” or Affliction, for which it turned out that there was but one who had written on it; and, to his unutterable astonishment, he heard his own poem on that title recited, and more than all, a prize awarded to it by the umpires.

Lady Devereaux, who had attached her name to this effusion, was called upon to receive the meed of her talents. That lady, who sat by her father, as one of the audience, now rose, and said, with some emotion, that the poem so highly honoured was not of her composition, but had been sent to her by its author, a person of taste and ingenuity, whom she was bound ever to esteem; as to his valour and courtesy she had once been indebted for the preservation of her life. Then naming Mr. Thomas Jones as the author, she pointed him out; and, amid loud and long applause, a handsome silver medal was placed round his neck.

We will not occupy more space in relating what the reader can so readily imagine. Our hero was the most successful competitor at the Eisteddvod, and at the Races. At the Ball too he won the admiration of the ladies, and withal, the wonder and esteem of the Breconians. But alas! the buoyancy of spirits, and the exultation of heart, which owed their evanescent existence to these distinction, were soon doomed to give way to feelings of contrasted severity.

Now, while in the zenith of his glory, confidently anticipating, as the final crown of his happiness, the willing hand of his mistress, a note for him arrived at the inn, from the fair widow, that threw him into absolute despair. She told him in plain terms, that unless he could outwit her, all his hopes of her hand would be utterly in vain. This intimation he could understand only as a formal permit to wear the willow as soon as he pleased; that she was otherwise engaged, and had altogether done with him.

His reasoning and conclusions in this argument received absolute and entire confirmation by the tantalising conduct of Miss Meredith, who accidentally meeting him one day, did nothing but laugh and jest at his anxious-looking face and restless behaviour. She would give no answers to his eager, importunate questioning, and ran away and left him, half wild and desperate. The next hour, at least, was spent by Twm in railing bitterly the “vile caprice and inconsistency of woman.”

Hearing that her company had preceded her in the way home, next evening, and that she was about to follow them alone, he resolved to way-lay and put her under contribution, at any rate; which he conceived would be one way, at least, of out-witting her, and perhaps the right one.

He hastily assumed a dress which thoroughly disguised him, for his features were almost altogether concealed by a large hairy travelling cap, which he wore well down over his ears, and his figure was equally lost amongst the ample folds of a great coat, which had never been made for him.

His preparations made, he took his stand by the gate that in those days led from the town into the mountains, through which the road ran to Llanspyddyd, Trecastle, and Llandovery.

At length the gay widow arrived, and Twm immediately caught hold of her bridle, and, in an assumed snuffling tone of voice, demanded her money. She begged hard for mercy on her pocket, but in vain; and gave at last a considerable sum, which, she said, was the whole contents of her pocket. Our hero, having placed the booty in the crown of his cap, declared himself quite satisfied; “And so am I!” cried the spirited widow; and, at the same moment, grasping his cap and its whole contents, laughing aloud as she galloped away from him, she cried, “Thus the widow outwits and triumphs over Twm Shon Catty!”

Had Fortune determined to spite poor Twm Shon Catty as much as she had previously favoured him? It looked most unpleasantly like; for he had never been in such a deplorable condition as now, standing there in the road, glancing wistfully at the fast retreating figure of the widow. He was shorn of his laurels completely, and at once a bankrupt in love and fortune; as the cap contained the whole of the money he brought with him to Brecon, as well as what he had gained there.

This inauspicious adventure, although it damped his spirits for a time, had the ultimate effect of rousing his latent energies to the highest pitch. He was not long in hatching a scheme to forward his purposes, which, however, required the aid (which was soon offered to him) of Powell and his two friends.

Twelve o’clock the next morning saw him dismounting at the door of Ystrad Feen, accoutred in a military undress; originally used by him in London, as at present, for masquerading purposes. In this disguise, he expected immediate admittance as a stranger; but to his unutterable dismay, instead of finding the door fly open to his knock, it appeared to have been doubly barricaded against him.

After his repeated summons, the lady of the mansion, with pompous formality, appeared at the window, like the warder of a fortress holding a parley at the outpost. In a gay spirit of bantering, she declared that the military uniform became him exceedingly, and begged to know what rank he held in the army. Our hero parried these home-thrusts but with an ordinary degree of grace, and, in a bowed spirit, entreated admission to the inner walls. The lady Joan was quite peremptory in her refusal, declaring, that having lately heard so much to his disadvantage, she had decided on breaking off all future acquaintance with him as a lover; “especially,” added she, “as, instead of the witty person I thought you, I find you quite a dull animal, that any school-girl might outwit.”

Here she indulged in a provoking laugh, and bade him “good bye,” as she turned to close the window.

“Nay then,” said Twm in a desponding key, “if we are indeed to be henceforth strangers, as we have been friends, true and warm friends, you will give me your hand, at least, in parting.” She slowly stretched out her hand through the window, and our hero, with the eager spring of a hungry tiger, darted forward, grasped her wrist with his left hand, and drawing his sword with the right, exclaimed in a tone of affected fury, “Revenge at least is left me—by yon blessed sky above us, I’ll be trifled with no longer—off goes your hand unless you consent to our union this instant, and on this very spot.”

“Lord! don’t squeeze so hard and look so fierce,” cried the lady of Ystrad Feen.

Twm, with increased boisterousness, resumed, “On your answer will depend, whether, for the remainder of your life, you have a single hand or a pair of them—for on the pronouncing of a negative, this hand, this soft white hand, beautiful as it is, will instantly fly, severed from the wrist; and only think now, my gentle lady Joan, how dreadful you would look with a stump.”

Twm looked determined enough, and what could a lady do in respectable society with only one hand? The idea was preposterous. In her vexation, she stretched her pretty neck out, and endeavoured to make her tormentor relax his grasp by inflicting a bite on the back of his hand. Twm seized this opportunity of imprinting a very decisive kiss on her check, on which she drew back her head, her face glowing radiantly with blushes.

“You villain!” cried she, “I suspected you were about to bite my ear off.”

“No, only your hand, Joan,” replied Twm; “and that I will have, unless you consent to be mine this instant.”

“I would not so much care,” cried the lady of Ystrad Feen, “but your horrid name; I could not endure to be called Mrs. Twm Shon Catty.”

“I have protested bitterly, and will not be foresworn,” cried Twm, “that here, even here, with your hand stretched through the window, the marriage ceremony shall be performed; and so your answer at once without evasion.”

“The parson of our parish has gone to a christening,” said the lady of Ystrad Feen.

“Yes or no!” roared the terrific Twm, menacing the threatened blow.

“Well then, as I could not handle a knife or fork, or play my spinnet, or give you a box on the ear when I want pastime, I may as well say—Yes!”

“Bless thee for that,” cried Twm in ecstacy, and eagerly kissed the captured hand. Sticking his sword in the ground, he drew forth a small bugle, and blew a loud blast that was re-echoed by the surrounding mountains. Immediately a party of ten persons, wearing masks, appeared, one of which was arrayed in a clerical habit, who drawing forth his book, at once commenced the marriage ceremony, Twm the while holding her hand through the window.

The Lady of Ystrad Feen had never calculated upon being married in this unceremonious fashion; but she was fairly at a loss, and therefore came to the conclusion to endure her fate, patiently and with resignation, yet in her heart very glad that she was under such a pleasant pressure of circumstances.

The ceremonial was nearly half over, when four windows of the first floor were suddenly opened, and several highly-dressed ladies and gentlemen put out their heads and displayed most mirthful countenances, the fair ones waving their whitest cambrics above their heads; and with shaking peals of laughter, looked down upon this singular wedding. The “ho, ho, ho!” of the merry Prothero, was heard with surpassing loudness; and “Well done, Twm!” were the first words that the spirit of titillation permitted him to utter.

Notwithstanding this interruption, the ceremony was finished, and parson Hughes pronounced them man and wife. Unwilling to loosen the hand which he now considered his own, our hero held it fast till he entered the house through the window.

Once within the mansion that now called him master, an amazing change of circumstances took place. The lady endearingly asked for forgiveness for her latter conduct, while Twm entreated the same for himself. Squire Prothero had been the author of many good offices for our hero; having conciliated Sir John Price, who, although a proud man, was also something of a humorist, as he proved himself in this instance. A plan was concerted to throw every impediment in the way of Twm’s union, for him to surmount them as he could, to afford sport for the old baronet and his merry friend Prothero, in which trickery the lady herself was by promise compelled to join, which accounts for her latter conduct.

Being ushered by his bride into the drawing-room, our hero was introduced to, and warmly greeted by two most unexpected personages, his lady’s father and his own! Sir John, who had been a visitor at the Priory-House for a week, was the gayest of the gay on this occasion. Placing an elegant tiara of jewels on her brow, the northern Baronet embraced her tenderly; and handing her to our hero, said, “Here, you lucky dog! prove thyself worthy of the blood of the Wynns, and that shall warm to thee yet.”

This most unexampled wedding was followed in a few days by another ceremony more befitting the social position of Lady Devereaux, and at the same time Miss Meredith gave her hand to the delighted Justice Powell. Somehow, it did not occur to any of the parties that its brilliance was much impaired by the absence of Miss Felina Tomtabby Price, and her high-minded sister. These stately spinsters determined to punish their family for this unprecedented proceeding, by withdrawing their countenance from them, and the degenerate world for ever.

Some of the great, (great fools!) that is to say, the most eminently useless residents of the then proud town of Brecon, were in the most embarrassing state of dilemma on this occasion. They entertained very serious doubts as to the possibility of admitting our hero into their exquisitely select circle, on account of his left-handed origin; and more than all, his former questionable doings:—certain malignant spirits having insinuated suspicions of his once figuring in London as a black-leg, if not a thief. But as the patronizing influence of Sir John Price was scanned, they condescended to overlook these supposed peccadilloes; as it was decidedly proved to them that he had never vulgarized himself by any practice of usefulness in the world, by what they deemed worse than witchcraft in the debasement of gentility—the following of a trade or profession.

Our tale is almost ended; we have only to add a word or two with respect to our principal characters, as it would hardly be respectful to dismiss them without some appearance of attention.

Reparation having been made to all parties who were sufferers by our hero’s faults and follies, the Graspacres, father and son, by the good offices of Sir John Wynn and the friendly Prothero, were in time conciliated. The luckless Inco Evans had soon after to add to his other losses, that of his clerical gown, on account of a certain complaint preferred against him to his diocesan, by Miss Bessy Gwevel-heer: and his magisterial function was also numbered with the things that were, but are not. When despised and impoverished, in his old age, Twm stepped forward with timely aid, that more than compensated for the injuries he had ever done him.

Twm showed most kindly consideration for hungry Moses and his ever starving family, and made a praiseworthy attempt to fatten them up. All was in vain, and Moses was struck with wonder and admiration when he saw an unusually stout specimen of humanity.

The venerable Ianto Gwyn was installed as the family harper; while each and all of the humbler companions of his wild days, were acknowledged, befriended, and aided in their views in life.

The landlady of the Cat and Fiddle was so greatly benefited by the association of our hero’s name in her house, that her increased wealth and charms gained her another husband, in the person of little Tommy Thomas, the late under whipper-in of Ystrad Feen; and their sign underwent a change to “The Twm Shon Catty Inn.”

One day, many years after all these things had been so happily and comfortably settled, to the satisfaction of the principal parties concerned, an old friend called upon Twm in the person of Doctor John David Rhys, who had acquired great fame and honour in far-off Continental cities. Their meeting was most joyous; and when he reminded his old pupil of his prophecy respecting his union with the lady of his dream, a friendly pressure of her hand accompanied by an inexpressibly sweet smile, acknowledged her pleasure in the truth of his foresight.

Poetical justice and fact, are unhappily at variance in our closing notice of this most excellent character. During his residence abroad, he changed his profession of a Protestant Divine, and became a Catholic, and a physician; practising among princes and nobles, he soon realized an ample fortune. For the enjoyment of a further intercourse with these, his friends, in preference to his own native Anglesea, he fixed his residence at Llanllwch, in the neighbourhood of Brecon.

Here our hero’s friendship stood him much in stead; for when the enlightened Protestant mobs of the time persecuted him for his faith, forcibly entering his house to search for the Pope in the cavity of his porridge pot, and a legion of Friars in his night-chair and warming-pan, Squire Jones was the magistrate that stood forward to check their lawlessness. His great popularity and known Protestant principles were all sufficient warrants for his word, when he assured the many-headed monster of the groundlessness of such suspicions.

Our hero, who, the reader must be aware, has shown no little power in poesy, set to work to write the history of the Gwydir family, when he discovered that his father was devoting himself to the same purpose. The old man candidly declared that among his ten sons, not one of them possessed a literary taste, or evinced a congenial feeling with him in his pursuits. But his left-handed eleventh seemed to justify the adage respecting luck in odd numbers, which drew on him his affections accordingly.

Squire Jones never forgot the humble way in which he spent the earliest portion of his life; his was a nature as little likely to be unduly elevated by prosperity as unnecessarily cast down by adversity.

When he built a mansion at Tregaron, beside the cottages of his childhood, he would never suffer the homely fabric to be removed, but kept it as a private appendage to his house; the interior containing all its rude characteristics, as left at his mother’s death, which took place a week before his union; although poor Catty survived both her sister Juggy and her husband. There, once a year he made a lonely visit of many hours; and felt his heart soften as he surveyed the rude shelves and wooden bowls and piggins; platters and trenchers; and even the spoons and ladles manufactured by the coarse hand of his late step-father. The unflattering reminiscences awakened by the annual visits were better than sackcloth to the skin of kings, as an antidote to worldly pride, and a check to the overweening heartiness and want of sympathy with our humbler brethren in their struggles for a little firmer feeling on the earth; which is ever the result of the undisputed despotism of prosperity.

Thomas Jones, Esq., filled many most honourable offices in the good town of Brecon, and in such a manner as to prove that fortune for this once had not showed her favours upon one unworthy of them. His early friend, Dr. John David Rhys, mentions him with respect as an accomplished antiquary, and testifies to the general excellence and worth of his character. For many years he was Mayor and Sheriff of Brecon, and we will close our chronicle of his various achievements by one more anecdote.

“Bless me!” cried the lady mayoress one day to her husband, as they passed arm in arm through the street from church, “the people are always laughing to think of my marrying you.” “I don’t wonder,” replied the hero of these adventures, “for whenever I think of it, I laugh myself.”

APPENDIX.

The Triads referred to, as the collection made by Thomas Jones, of Tregaron, (Twm Shon Catty,) are translated from a series in the second volume of the Welsh ArchÆology, p. 57. The series bear the following title. “These are Triads of the Island of Britain—that is to say, Triads of memorial and record, and the information of remarkable men or things which have been in the Island of Britain; and of the events which befell the Race of the Cymry, from the age of ages.”

To the copy, from which the transcript was made for the London edition, the following note is annexed.

(Translation.) “These Triads were taken from the book of Caradoc of Nantcarvan, and from the book of Jevan Brechva, by me, Thomas Jones, of Tregaron—and those are all I could get of the three hundred—1601.”

I. The three pillars of the Race of the Island of Britain.

The first Hu Gudarn, who first brought the Race of the Cymry into the Island of Britain; and they came from the land of Hav called Defrobani, [where Constantinople stands,] and they passed over Mor Tawch (the German ocean) to the Island of Britain, and to Llydaw where they remained.

The second, Prydain, the son of Aedd-Mawr, who first established regal government in the Island of Britain. [Before this, there was no equity but what was done by gentleness, nor any law but that of force.]

The third, Dyfnwal Moelmud, who first discriminated the laws and ordinances, customs and privileges of the land and nation. [And for these reasons they were called the three pillars of the nation of Cymry.]

II. The three benevolent tribes of the Island of Britain.

The first was the stock of the Cymry, who came with Hu Gadarn, into the Island of Britain; for He would not have lands by fighting and contention, but of equity, and in peace.

The second was the race of the Lloegrwys, who came from the land of Gwas-gwyn, and were sprung from the primitive stock of the Cymry.

The third were the Britons. They came from the land of Llydaw, and were also sprung from the primordial line of the Cymry.

[And they are called the three peaceful tribes because they came by mutual consent and permission, in peace and tranquillity. The three tribes descended from the primitive race of the Cymry, and the three were of one language and one speech.

III. Three tribes came, under protection, into the Island of Britain, and by the consent and permission of the nation of Cymry, without weapon, without assault.

The first was the tribe of the Caledonians, in the North.

The second was the Gwyddelian Race, which are now in Alban (Scotland.)

The third were the men of the Galedin, who came in their naked ships (canoes) into the Isle of Wight, when their country was drowned, and had lands assigned them by the Race of the Cymry.

And they had neither privilege nor claim in the Island of Britain, but the land and protection that they granted, under specified limits. And it was decreed, that they should not enjoy the immunities of the native Cymry, before the ninth generation.

IV. Three usurping tribes came into the Island of Britain, and never departed out of it.The first was the Coranied, who came from the land of Pwyl.

The second were the Gwyddelian Fichti, who came into Alban, over the sea of Llychlyn (Denmark).

The third were the Saxons.

[The Corained are about the Humber, and on the shore of Mor Tawch, and the Gwyddelian Finchti are in Alban, on the shore of the sea of Llychlyn. The Coranied united with the Saxons, and being partly incorporated with them, deprived the Lloegrwys of their government, by wrong and oppression; and afterwards, they deprived the Race of the Cymry of their crown and sovereignty. All the Lloegrwys became Saxons, except those who are found in Cornwall, and in the Commot of Carnobun, in Deria and Bernicia.

The primitive Race of the Cymry have kept their land and their language; but they lost their sovereignty of the Island of Britain, through the treachery of the protected tribes, and the violence of the three usurping tribes.]

V. The three awful events of the Island of Britain.

First, the bursting of the lake of waters, and the overwhelming of the face of all lands; so that all mankind were drowned excepting Dwyvan and Dwyvach, who escaped in a naked vessel, (without sails), and of them the Island of Britain was re-peopled.

The second was the consternation of the tempestuous fire, when the earth split asunder, to Annwn, (lower region,) and the greatest part of all living was consumed.

The third was the scorching summer, when the woods and plants were set on fire, by the intense heat of the sun, and multitudes of men and beasts, and all kinds of birds, and reptiles and trees and plants irrecoverably lost.VI. The three chief master works of the island of Britain.

The ship of Nevydd Nav Neivion, who carried in it a male and a female of all living, when the lake of waters burst forth.

The drawing of the avanc to land out of the lake, by the branching oxen of Hu Gadarn, so that the lake burst no more;

And the stones of Gwyddon Ganhebon, on which were read the arts and sciences of the world.

VII. The three great Regulators of the Island of Britain.

Hu Gadarn, bringing the Race of the Cymry out of the land of Hav, which is called Defrobahi into the Island of Britain.

Prydain, the son of Aedd-Mawr, establishing government and law over the Island of Britain.

And Rhitta Gawr, who made himself a robe of the beards of kings, whom he caused to be shaved (reduced to vassalage) for their oppressions and contempt of justice.

VIII. The three happy controllers of the Island of Britain.

Prydain, the son of Aedd-Mawr, suppressing the Dragon tyranny. [This was a tyranny of pillage and contempt of Equity, that sprung up in the Island.]

Caradog, the son of Bran, the son of Llyr, checking the oppression of the CÆsars;

And Rhitta Gawr, controlling the tyranny and pillage of the tumultary kings.

IX. The three benefactors of the Race of Cymry.

The first, Hu Gadarn, who first showed the Race of the Cymry the method of cultivating the ground, when they were in the land of Hav [namely, where Constantinople now stands] before they came into the Island of Britain.

Coll, the son of Coll-Frewi, who first brought wheat and barley into the island of Britain, where, before, there had only been oats and rye;

And Elldyd the knight, [a holy man of Cor Dewdws,] who improved the manner of cultivating the ground, taught the Cymry a better method than had been known before, and showed the art of ploughing which now prevails. [For before the time of Elldyd, land was cultivated only with a mattock and a spade, after the manner of the Gyddelians.]

X. The three primary Sages of the Race of the Cymry.

Hu Gadarn, who first collected the Race of the Cymry, and disposed them into tribes.

Dyvnwal-Molemud, who first regulated the laws, privileges, and institutions of the country and the nation.

And Tydain tad Awen, who first introduced order and method into the memorials and preservation of the Oral art (poetry) and its properties.

And from that order, the privileges and methodical usages of the Bards and Bardism (Druidism) of the Island of Britain, were first devised.

XI. The three primary Bards of the Island of Britain.

Plennydd, Alwan, and Gwron.

These were they who devised the privileges and usages which belong to Bards and Bardism.

[Yet there had been Bards and Bardism before; but they were not completely methodized, and they enjoyed neither privileges nor established customs, but they were obtained through gentleness and civility, and the protection of the country and the nation, before the time of these three.

Some say they were in the time of Prydain, the son of Aedd Mawr, others, that they were in the time of his son, Dyvnwal-Molemud, whom some of the old books call Dyvnvarth, the son of Prydain.XII. The three elementary masters of Poetry and Memorial, of the Race of the Cymry.

Gwyddon Ganhebon, the first man in the world who composed poetry;

Hu Gadarn, who first adapted poetry to the preservation of records and memorials;

And Tydain Tad Awen, who first developed the art and structure of poetry, and the due disposition of thought.

And, from the labours of these three personages, sprang Bards and Bardism, and the regulation of their privileges and established discipline, by the three primary Bards, Plenvydd, Alwan, and Gwron.

XIII. The three primary baptized (or christian) Bards.

Merddyn Emrys; Taliesin, the chief of the Bards, and Merddin, the son of Madawc Morvyn.

XIV. The three mighty Labours of the Isle of Britain.

Erecting the stone of Ketti. Constructing the work of Emrys. And heaping the pile of Cyvrangon.

The three happy astronomers. (Serenyddion, Suronides) of the Island of Britain. Idris Gawr. Gwyddion the son of the Don. And Gwyn the son of Nudd.

So great was their knowledge of the stars, and of their nature and situations, that they could foretell whatever might be desired to be known to the day of doom.

XVI. The three masters of mysterious and secret science, of the Island of Britain.

Math, the son of Mothanwy, and he disclosed his secret to Gwyndion the son of Don.

Mengw, the son of Teiagmaedd, who taught his secret to Uthyr Bendragon.

And Rhuddlwm Gawr, and he learned his mystery of Eddic Gor and Coll, the son of Coll Frewi.XVII. The three great modellers of the Island of Britain.

Corvinwr, the Bard of Ceri Hir of Llyngwyn, who first made a ship, with a sail and a helm, for the race of the Cymry.

Mozdial Gwr Gweilgi, the architect of Ceraint, the son of Greidial, who first taught the race of the Cymry, the work of stone and lime, [at the time Alexander the Great was subduing the world.]

And Coll, the son of Cylin, [the son of Caradawr, the son of Bran,] who first made a mill with a wheel, for the race of Cymry.

W. NICHOLSON AND SONS, LIMITED, PRINTERS, WAKEFIELD.