It was also the custom, at least many years ago, if not now, for a young woman, or two of them together to stick pins at midnight in a candle, all in a row, right from its top to the bottom, and then to watch the candle burning and the pins dropping one by one, till the last pin had dropped, and then the future husband of the girl to whom the pin belonged, was supposed to appear; but if she was destined to die single, she would see a coffin. [11]

Another form of Divination, was to put the plates on the dining-room table upside down, and at midnight the spirit of the future husband was supposed to come and arrange them in their proper order.

Another custom resorted to in Cardiganshire and other parts in order to see a future husband, or rather to dream of him, was to eat a hen’s first egg; but no one was to know the secret, and absolute silence was to be observed, and the egg was to be eaten in bed.

This kind of divination was perhaps of a more uncanny character than anything I have hitherto mentioned, and a custom which both young men and young women very commonly practised, even within the last 50 years as I have been told by old people. This weird practice was to go round the parish church seven times, some say nine times, whilst others again say nine times-and-half, and holding a knife in the hand saying the while:—

It was also the practice to look in through the key-hole of the church door each time whilst going round, and many people assert to this very day that whoever performed this mode of divination in proper order, that the spirit of his or her future wife or husband would appear with a sheath to fit the knife; but, if the young man or woman was to die single, a coffin would meet him or her. Mr. John Jones, of Pontrhydfendigaid, an intelligent old man of 95, with a wonderful memory, told me that, when a boy, he had heard his mother giving a most sad account of what happened to a young woman who did this at Ystrad Meurig in Cardiganshire about the year 1800. She was the daughter of a public house in the village, and the name of her mother was Catherine Dafydd Evan. Mr. Jones’s mother knew the family well; some of them emigrated to America.

This young woman was in love with one of the students of St. John’s College, in the neighbourhood, and being anxious to know whether he was to be her husband or not, she resorted to this uncanny practice of walking nine times round Ystrad Meurig Church. Around and round she went, holding the knife in her hand and repeating the words of incantation, “Here’s the knife, where is the sheath?” And whilst she was performing her weird adventure, to her great alarm, she perceived a clergyman coming out to meet her through the church door with his white surplice [12]on, as if coming to meet a funeral procession. The frightened young woman fell down in a swoon, almost half dead, as she imagined that the one she met with a surplice on was an apparition or the spirit of a clergyman officiating at the phantom funeral of herself, which prognosticated that instead of going to be married, she was doomed to die.

It turned out that the apparition she had seen was only one of the students, who, in order to frighten her, had secretly entered the Church for the purpose. But the poor girl recovered not, and she died very soon afterwards.

I heard the following story from my mother when I was a boy. A girl had determined to obtain a sight of her future husband by going round the parish church nine times at All Hallows’ Eve in the same manner as the young woman I mentioned in the above story, but with more fortunate results. This also happened somewhere in Cardiganshire or Carmarthenshire. Just as the young woman was walking round the ninth time, she saw, to her great surprise, her own master (for she was a servant maid) coming to meet her. She immediately ran home and asked her mistress why she had sent her master after her to frighten her. But the master had not gone out from the house. On hearing the girl’s account, the mistress was greatly alarmed and was taken ill, and she apprehended that she herself was doomed to die, and that her husband was going to marry this servant girl, ultimately. Then the poor woman on her death bed begged the young woman to be kind to her children, “For you are to become the mistress here,” said she, “when I am gone.”

It was also a custom in Wales once for nine young girls to meet together to make a pancake, with nine different things, and share it between them, that is, each of the girls taking a piece before going to bed in order to dream of their future husbands.

Another practice among young girls was to sleep on a bit of wedding cake.

I remember the following test or divination resorted to in Cardiganshire only about twelve years ago. It was tried by young maidens who wished to know whether their husbands were to be bachelors, and by young men who wished to know whether their wives were to be spinsters. Those who performed this ceremony were blindfolded. Then three basins or dishes were placed on the table, one filled with clean water, the other with dirty water, and the third empty. Then the young man or young woman as the [13]case might be advanced to the table blindfolded and put their hand in the dish; and the one who placed his hands in the clean water was to marry a maiden; if into the foul water, a widow; but if into the empty basin, he was doomed to remain single all his life. Another way for a young maiden to dream of her future husband was to put salt in a thimble, and place the same in her stockings, laying them under her pillow, and repeat an incantation when going to bed. Meyrick in his History of Cardiganshire states that “Ivy leaves are gathered, those pointed are called males, and those rounded are females, and should they jump towards each other, then the parties who had placed them in the fire will be believed by and married by their sweethearts; but should they jump away from one another, then, hatred will be the portion of the anxious person.”

Testing a lover’s love by cracking of nuts is also well known in West and Mid-Wales.

It was also a custom in the old times for a young girl on St. John’s Eve to go out at midnight to search for St. John’s Wort in the light of a glow worm which they carried in the palm of their hand. After finding some, a bunch of it was taken home and hung in her bedroom. Next morning, if the leaves still appeared fresh, it was a good omen; the girl was to marry within that same year; but, on the other hand, if the leaves were dead, it was a sign that the girl should die, or at least she was not to marry that year.

The Bible and Key Divination, or how to find out the two first letters of a future Wife’s or Husband’s name is very commonly practised, even now, by both young men and young women. A small Bible is taken, and having opened it, the key of the front door is placed on the 16th verse of the 1st Chapter of Ruth:—“And Ruth said, intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” Some take Solomon’s Songs, Chapter viii., verses 6 and 7 instead of the above verse from the Book of Ruth. Then the Bible is closed, and tied round with the garter taken off the left leg of him or her who wishes to know his or her future wife or husband’s initials. A person cannot perform this ceremony himself; he must get a friend with him to assist him. The young man must put the middle finger of his right hand on the key underneath the loop, and take care to keep the Bible steady. [14]Then the man, who does not consult the future, repeats the above verse or verses, and when he comes to the appointed letter, that is the first letter of the future wife’s name, the Bible will turn round under the finger. I was told at Ystrad Meurig, that a few years ago, a young woman, a farmer’s daughter, tried this Bible and key divination; and whilst the ceremony was going on, and her sister assisting her to hold the key under the Bible and repeating the words, instead of the book turning round as she expected, she saw a coffin moving along the room, which was a sign that she was doomed to die single; and so it came to pass! The farmhouse where this young woman lived is situated in the neighbourhood of Strata Florida, Cardiganshire; but I do not wish to name the house. I have myself once or twice witnessed this divination practised, but I never heard of a coffin appearing, except in the case of the young woman just mentioned.

Tea-cup divination is also very much practised by young girls in Wales in order to find out some future events concerning love affairs, future husbands, etc. There was a woman, who only died a few years ago, in the parish of Llandyssul, near a small village called Pontshan in Cardiganshire, who was considered an expert in the art of fortune telling by a tea cup, at least young women and young men thought so, and many of them resorted to her, especially those who were in love or intending to marry. There was another one near Llandovery in Carmarthenshire, and there are a few even at present to whom the maidens go for consultation.

But Welsh women, who are so fond of tea, can find out many things themselves by means of the tea cup without resorting to those who are considered experts in the art. When several of them meet together to tea they help one another in divining their cups, and tea drinking or sipping is the order of the day among the females of Wales. After having emptied the cup, it is turned round three times in the left hand, so that the tea-leaves may cover the surface of the whole cup. Then the cup is placed in the saucer, bottom upwards, to drain, for a few minutes before inspection. If the leaves are scattered evenly round the sides of the cup, leaving the bottom perfectly clear, it is considered a very good sign; but on the other hand when the bottom of the cup appears very black with leaves, it is a very bad sign: some trouble or some misfortune is near. When the leaves form a ring on the side of the cup, it means that the girl who consults is to marry very soon; but if the ring is at the bottom of the cup, disappointment [15]in love awaits her, or she is doomed to die single. When the tea leaves form a cross or a coffin, that also is considered a bad sign; but as a rule, a horse, a dog, or a bird portends good. Two leaves seen in close proximity on the side of the cup foretell a letter bringing good news. When there is a speck floating on the surface of a cup of tea before drinking, some people say it means a letter, a parcel, or a visitor, but a young girl takes it to represent her lover, and she proves his faithfulness by placing the speck on the back of her left hand, and striking it with the back of her right hand. Should the speck or the small tea leaves stick to the back of the left hand and cling or stick fast to the right hand when striking it, it means that the young man is faithful; but on the other hand, should it happen that the tea still remain on the left hand where it was first placed, especially after striking it three times, the young man is not to be depended upon. Some women can even tell by means of the tea-cup what trade their admirer follows, the colour of their future husband’s hair, and many other such things.

A lily is considered a most lucky emblem, if it be at the top, or in the middle of the cup, for this is considered a sign that the young man, or the young woman who consults, will have a good and kind wife, or husband, who will make him or her happy in the marriage estate, but on the other hand, a lily at the bottom of the cup, portends trouble, especially if clouded, or in the thick.

A heart, especially in the clear, is also a very good sign, for it signifies joy and future happiness. Two hearts seen together in the cup, the young man, or the young woman’s wedding is about to take place. Tea-cup divination is well-known all over the Kingdom; and in the Colonies, especially Australia, it is by far more popular than in England.

Divination by cards is not so much known in Wales as in England, and this is more popular in towns than country places. [16]

At the present time, Welsh people marry on any day of the week, but about fifty years ago Wednesday was a favourite day in some places, and Friday in other places. I am writing more especially, of course, of West Wales. Indeed, in some parishes old men informed me that when they were young they did not remember any one marrying, except on a Friday. This fact, undoubtedly, is likely to surprise many English readers, who regard Friday as an unlucky day for anything.

Meyrick, writing about one hundred years ago in his History of Cardiganshire, says Saturday was the Wedding Day, and other writers mention the same thing, and it is evident that Saturday [29]was the day on which most people did marry, except in a few districts, about three generations ago, as well as in older times. Whether this day, that is, Saturday, was commonly fixed upon from a belief that it was a lucky day for marriage, or from the convenience of Sunday intervening between it and a working day, is rather difficult to know, but it seems that the following old English Marrying Rhyme was either unknown to the Welsh, or that they did not give heed to it:—

The rural weddings in South Wales until very recently were Horse Weddings; that is, it was the custom of the whole party, both men and women to ride, and generally at full speed. Poor people generally managed to obtain the loan of horses for the happy occasion from their richer neighbours. On the wedding morning the invited guests, both men and women, married and unmarried, came on their horses and ponies, some of them from a long distance. The men proceeded to the bridegroom’s house, about a hundred or a hundred and fifty in number and honourably paid their pwython; whilst the women at the same time went to the house of the bride, and paid to her their pwython.

“Pwython” was the term used in connection with these weddings to denote the gifts presented to the young bride and bridegroom respectively, in return for what the invited guests themselves had received on the occasion of their own weddings from the young man and the young woman, or their relations or friends. Of course, a large number of those who gave gifts were young and unmarried, so that they were not all under an obligation to give; but still they gave, and they were expected to give to help the young couple, and by so giving, they were placing the latter under an obligation to them in the future, that is, in such cases, the giver gave under the expectation of receiving back gifts of equal value, whenever his or her own, or one of his or her relations’ wedding took place, even should that happen on the very next day.

After depositing their offerings and taking something to eat, it was then the custom for ten, twelve, or sometimes even twenty young men, headed by a bard, a harper, or some fluent speaker, to mount their horses, and drive away full speed in the direction of the bride’s house to demand her in marriage for the bridegroom. [30]But on the morning of the wedding, the young woman, that is, the bride-elect, was not to be got possession of without much trouble and argument, and searching. When the bridegroom’s procession halted at the house of the bride’s parents, the leader of the party, finding the door barred against their entrance, would formally demand the bride, generally in rhyme appropriate to the occasion, delivered something as follows:—

Then one of the bride’s party from within made a reply as follows, with the door still closed:—

Then the one from without rejoins:—

The one within again answers:—

Again the one without exclaims in resolute tones:—

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

The above rhyme appeared in “Adventures of Twm Shon Catty.” There are a good many such verses composed for, or at such occasion, still extant in the Welsh language. [31]

The party without and the party within feigned to abuse one another in such rhymes for an hour, more sometimes, till their wit was exhausted, but the whole performance was nothing but innocent fun, and the doors are opened in the end, and the bridegroom’s party are admitted into the house; but even then the trouble is not always over, for it was the custom for the bride to hide herself, when search would be made for her everywhere under the tables, beds, behind the doors and every corner in the house, and at last found, perhaps, under the disguise of a young man smoking his pipe, or of a “granny” knitting in the corner.

Whoever discovered the bride received a pint of beer and a cake as a prize in some places. All these things were done for fun or amusement, but I heard of one young woman at least, who was hiding in real earnest, and could not be found.

An old farmer near Carmarthen, Griffiths, of Rhenallt, who is 96 years of age, informed me about five years ago, that he once heard his father mention of a man called “Dafydd y Llether,” a butcher near Alltwalis, who was disappointed in this manner. This happened about 100 years ago. This butcher was engaged to be married to a farmer’s daughter who lived in the parish of Llanllwni, about eight miles off, and had made all preparations for the wedding. When the wedding morning dawned, Dafydd and his neighbours and friends, about one hundred in number, mounted their horses at Alltwalis, and galloped away full speed to Llanllwni, and having arrived at the house of the young bride’s parents, search was made for her everywhere, but she was nowhere to be found. At last the young man and his friends had to return home without finding her in great disappointment! The young woman’s parents had prevailed upon her not to marry the young man, “because” added the old man to me “he was too much of a jolly boy.” So they had contrived between them to hide her where she could not be found on the wedding morning.

But, to proceed with our account of the old wedding customs, it was the practice after finding the hidden bride, and partaking of a little refreshments, for the wedding party to mount their horses, and they were joined by the bridegroom and his friends, and made their way towards the church. The young woman was mounted on a fine and swift horse; but often she had to be content to be mounted behind her father, or a brother or a friend; and when the latter was the case, she had to sit on crupper without any pillion, and holding fast to the man. Then the whole cavalcade would gallop off to church. But during the procession the bride was seized suddenly by one of her relatives or friends, [32]stolen away and borne off to a distance. However, this feigned attempt to run away with her was done only in sport. Then a chase ensued, when the bridegroom and his friends drove after her like madmen till they caught her and took her to church. The driving was so furious on such occasions that legs and arms were sometimes broken. Mr. D. Jones in his interesting Welsh book on the History of the Parish of Llangeler, says that in the year 1844, at the wedding of Dinah, daughter of the Rev. Thomas Jones, Saron, one James Evans, the groom of the late Colonel Lewes, drove so furiously that his horse struck against a wall with the result that both the animal and its rider were killed on the spot, near Llangeler Church! In consequence of such a melancholy event the Horse Wedding was discontinued in that part of the country, through the influence of the Vicar, the Rev. John Griffiths, who preached against the practice from II. Kings, chap. IX. verse 20 ... “And the driving is like the driving of Jehu the son of Nimshi; for he driveth furiously.”

The following account of a Horse Wedding appeared in “The Folk Lore of North Wales” by the late Rev. Elias Owen, F.S.A., whose informant was the Rev. Canon Griffith Jones, who witnessed the wedding, which took place at Tregaron, Cardiganshire. We are told that “The friends of both the young people were on horseback, and according to custom they presented themselves at the house of the young woman, the one to escort her to the church, and the other to hinder her from going there. The friends of the young man were called “Gwyr shegouts.” When the young lady was mounted, she was surrounded by the “gwyr shegouts,” and the cavalcade started. All went on peaceably until a lane was reached, down which the lady bolted, and here the struggle commenced, for her friends dashed between her and her husband’s friends and endeavoured to force them back, and thus assist her to escape. The parties, Mr. Jones said, rode furiously and madly, and the struggle presented a cavalry charge, and it was not without much apparent danger that the opposition was overcome, and the lady ultimately forced to proceed to the church, where her future husband was anxiously awaiting her arrival.”

The Lord Bishop of Huron, a native of Cardiganshire, writing to me from Canada, November 17th., 1909, says:—“I remember a wedding once when all the guests were on horse-back and there was a hunt for the bride. There could be no wedding till the bride was caught, and, Oh the wild gallop over hill and dale till she was taken captive and led to the altar! The last wedding of that kind to which I refer took place about 45 years ago. The [33]daughter of Mr. Morgan (I think) of Maestir, near Lampeter, or his intended wife being the bride. A very severe accident happened to the bride and that ended the custom in that neighbourhood.”

Although such things as I have already said were done for sport, yet I have heard of a few cases in which the bride was borne away in earnest, and disappeared willingly in company of an old lover of hers, to the intense astonishment and disappointment of the bridegroom, who happened to be her parents’ choice, and not her own. In this case, the custom of a feigned attempt to run away with the bride had in some respects served its original purpose; for, undoubtedly, the origin of the custom of hiding, running away with, and capturing the bride could be traced back to those barbarous times when marriage by capture was a common practice. Thus in the Mabinogion, we find that when a King named Kilydd, after being for some time a widower, wanted to marry again, one of his counsellors said to him, “I know a wife that will suit thee well, and she is the wife of King Dogel.” And they resolved to go and seek her; and they slew the King and brought away his wife. When his son also named Kilhwch wanted a wife, he went to demand her from her father Yspaddaden Pencawr, the Giant, and obtained her at last after many adventures, and the help of Arthur and his men. It is probable that when the Celtic Tribes had settled in Britain that they often obtained a wife by capturing her from the Aborigines.

This calls to mind the strategy of Romulus to secure wives for his soldiers by directing them at a given signal to seize Sabine maidens and run off with them whilst the men were busy in looking at the games.

Another singular instance of wife snatching in ancient times is to be found in the Book of Judges, for when the men of the tribe of Benjamin were in difficulty in obtaining wives for themselves, their elders commanded them to “go and lie in wait in the vineyards; and see, and behold, if the daughters of Shiloh come out to dance in dances, then come ye out of the vineyards, and catch you every man his wife of the daughters of Shiloh, and go to the land of Benjamin,.... And the children of Benjamin did so, and took them wives, according to their number, of them that danced, whom they caught.” Judges XXI., verses 20, 21, and 23.

It seems that some kind of Horse Weddings is in vogue among the Calmucians, even at the present day, the young woman is first mounted on her horse and drives off full speed, then the young man, who is her intended, mounts and chases her, and [34]when he catches her he can claim her as his wife on the spot; but should she escape him, he cannot claim her. I well remember when I lived in the Welsh Colony of Patagonia, about 20 years ago, that it was a very common custom for a young man and a young woman when in love, to mount their steeds and take a long ride of 20 miles or more in each other’s company, and whilst driving along together in such manner words of love were often whispered. Also when a wedding took place, the guests went to it on their horses, but the old custom of driving after, and capturing the bride was not observed.

Horse Weddings were very general in West Wales about sixty years ago, and even twenty years ago in some districts, but I doubt whether the custom has been continued at the present day in any part of the country. In the chase after the bride it was supposed that whoever caught her would be married without doubt within a year from that date, so it is not to be wondered at that young men drove so furiously on such occasions.

As soon as the marriage ceremony was over in church, it was once the custom for a harper in the churchyard to play “Merch Megan,” “Mentra Gwen,” “Morwynion Glan Meirionydd,” or some other beautiful old Welsh Air appropriate to the occasion.

It was also customary in some places, especially in the Northern part of Cardiganshire, for a certain number of young men to mount their steeds immediately after the ceremony, and drive off full speed, for the first who reached the house of the newly-married couple was to receive a quart of beer and a silk pocket handkerchief, especially if the young husband and wife were well-to-do.

The ceremony at the Church being over, all the company joined and returned to the young couple’s house, where dinner was provided. On their return journey again, as in going to Church, they drove fast. Indeed, it was often the custom to have a regular horse race on the way home from Church on the wedding day.

The Rev. D. G. Williams gives the following amusing story of such a race, in connection with a rural wedding which took place not far from Newcastle Emlyn. There lived a genial old country gentleman in the north-eastern part of Pembrokeshire, known as Mr. Howells, Glaspant, who had sent three of his horses to the wedding referred to, one of them was a pony, considered among the swiftest in the district; but there was one drawback in connection with the animal. He would go whichever way he pleased, especially when he was excited. The wedding procession [35]went along from a house called Gilfach Gweision to Capel Evan, where the “knot was tied,” and as soon as the ceremony was over the homeward race began in real earnest. The Squire felt confident that his “Comet,” as the pony was named, would be sure to prove victorious in the race, if the animal could be kept to follow the road which led on to Cwm Cuch, instead of turning to another road which led to Mr. Howells’ own house, Glaspant. To make sure of this, the enthusiastic old gentleman in due time, sent all his servants, both men and women, with walking-sticks and brooms in their hands to stand where the two roads met, so as to prevent the pony turning to the one that led to the house. Onward came the wedding cavalcade at last, the pony taking the lead as Mr. Howells expected, and when “Comet” saw a rowdy crowd shouting with all their might, and with brooms and sticks, the animal was glad to pass forward in the right direction and soon proved himself the hero of the day, and the old man felt as proud of his pony as the young husband was of his wife.

Another common practice in connection with the weddings in Wales, and still prevails in some places, was known as Chaining or Halting the Wedding. As the young husband and wife were driving home from Church at the end of the wedding ceremony they would find the way obstructed by ropes stretching the road, covered with flowers, and ribbons, and evergreens, or sometimes blocked up entirely by thorns. It is said that this was intended as the first obstacle in married life. Ropes in some cases were made of straw, and the young couple were not allowed to pass without paying a footing to the obstructors, and then the barrier was removed amidst a general hurrah. This chaining or halting the wedding was known in many parts of West Wales as “codi cwinten,” or to set up a quintain.

In ancient times Guintain seems to have been some kind of a game of skill in vogue among several nations; it consisted of an upright post, on the top of which a cross bar turned on a pivot; “at one end of the cross hung a heavy sand bag, and at the other was placed a broad plank; the accomplished cavalier in his passage couched his lance, and with the point made a thrust at the broad plank, and continued his route with his usual rapidity, and only felt the “gwyntyn,” or the “air” of the sand bag, fanning his hair as he passed.... The awkward horseman in attempting to pass this terrific barrier was either unhorsed by the weight of the sand bag, or by the impulse of the animal against the bar found his steed sprawling under him on the ground.” [36]

In some parts of the country, when the bride or the young wife reaches home after the wedding ceremony, she buys some small trifle, a pin or anything from her bridesmaid; and by taking the opportunity of buying something before her husband has a chance, she’ll be master over him for life! Sometimes the young newly-married couple resorted to a Wishing Well, and the first to drink the water became the master in their wedded life!

In Wales, it is considered unlucky to marry on a wet day. It was considered unlucky for the wedding party to go and return from the church exactly on the same path, so sometimes it was customary to go out of the way a bit so as to avoid ill-luck.

It is still customary to decorate the roads where the wedding party is to pass with arches and bannerettes, bearing mottoes appropriate to the occasion. This was done in February, 1906, at the wedding of Mr. David T. Davies, of Penlan, Llanwrda; and at the marriage of Mr. D. Barlett of Carmarthen in the same month, Llanboidy Parish Church was tastefully decorated with palms and evergreens, and the village was gay with bunting and festoons. Such decorations are very common, especially in connection with a country gentleman’s marriage, when tenants adorn their houses with garlands, and children strew flowers in the bride’s path. It was formerly the custom to pelt the bride and bridegroom with flowers, and it is still very general to throw rice at them. I remember this rice-throwing three years ago at Llanilar, Cardiganshire, at the wedding of a sister of Dr. Rees. Sometimes old boots were thrown, and I have heard that grains of wheat served the purpose once. Such things were done to ensure “Good Luck.”

In former times the bridal flowers were roses, gentle lady, lady’s fingers, lady-smock, pansy, prickles and furze, and, in order to encourage the young wife in industry, red clover bloom was strewn in her pathway.

When the ceremony at the church and the horse racing which followed were over, the guests proceeded to the young married couple’s house to partake of some food, and in the afternoon and the evening they paid their “pwython” to the newly married couple, that is those of the guests who had not paid already. Others again gave fresh presents. There was much consumption of beer and cakes on such occasions always, and the sale of which was a further source of income to the young couple, so that between everything they were provided with the means for a good start in their married life. Very often such a large [37]crowd attended the Neithior, that the house was often too small to accommodate them all; so a party of the men resorted to the barn or any other convenient place to drink beer.

It was also customary for the young men to treat the young maidens with cakes; so there was a good deal of love-making, and often of rivalry, especially should there be a very pretty girl among the merry company. Those young maids who were fortunate enough as to be in favour with the young men had their aprons full of cakes and biscuits, etc., to take home with them in the evening. Such festivities as a rule were very merry and kept up till a late hour, and there was a good deal of singing, harp-playing and dancing, for the Welsh were expert dancers in former times; but at the present day dancing is almost unknown, at least in country places.

On such occasions, it was customary, as a rule, to secure the presence of a harper, for the harp was from time immemorial a favourite musical instrument among the Welsh people; for Giraldus Cambrensis writing 700 years ago, says:—“Those who arrive in the morning are entertained till evening with the conversation of young women and the music of the harp; for each house has its young women and harps allotted to this purpose ... and in each family the art of playing on the harp is held preferable to any other learning.” During the last three generations, however, the dear old instrument with its sweet and melodious sounds gradually declined in popular favour in Wales, and at the present, there are but very few who can play on the harp at all, indeed, in many districts the instrument has entirely disappeared, giving place to the modern piano. This is to be greatly regretted, and every patriotic Welshman should do his best to encourage playing on the harp.

It happened once that a “Neithior” or wedding festivities took place, strange to say, without a wedding! This was about two generations ago in the Parish of Llandyssul. A man of the name of B. T. Rees, in that part of the country was engaged to be married to a young woman who was known as Sally. Two Bidders had been sent round the country to invite people to the wedding, and all other preparations had been made ready for the joyful occasion, and everything appeared most promising. But when B. T. Rees, a few days before the appointed time for the wedding ceremony, went to visit his bride-elect, she would neither receive him nor speak to him, but ordered him to depart immediately from her presence, to the great astonishment and disappointment of Rees, the bridegroom, and his friends. He endeavoured [38]to reason with her, but to no purpose. Afterwards some of his friends were sent to speak to her, but nothing availed; it seemed as if she had suddenly made up her mind to banish him entirely from her heart.

The wedding was to take place at Henllan on a certain morning, and the “Neithior” in the afternoon at Llandyssul. When that morning arrived, the bridegroom and his friends, decided to seek the bride once more, but she had hidden herself and could not be found anywhere. Rees and his party were in a strange predicament, and did not know what to do; but they returned to Llandyssul, and in the afternoon the wedding festivities were kept up just as if the wedding had actually taken place; and when night came, Rees had come into possession of large sums of money from the sale of beer, and donations, or wedding gifts and the sincere sympathy of the guests, but he had failed to secure a wife after all! Rees and Sally were married ultimately, however.

In the last century, the Neithior took place on the wedding day; in former times, however, the festivities were continued on the Sunday, which followed. Sir S. R. Meyrick, writing about one hundred years ago says:—“Sunday being come, the bride and bridegroom’s business is to stay at home all day and receive good-will and pwython. This is called “Neithior.” They receive more money this day than Saturday, and all are written down as before, whether fresh presents, or those repaid.”

It seems from what I have been informed by old persons, that such doings on Sundays had almost disappeared, if not completely so, in Meyrick’s time, at least in most places, but it is evident that Sunday observances of the kind were common about the middle of the eighteenth century; and in the old Church Register of the parish of Llanfihangel Geneu’r Glyn, in Cardiganshire, the following record is found:—

“11 June, 1745. Whereas the parish has been notorious hitherto in upholding and continuing a wicked custom of keeping Biddings or meetings upon the Sabbath day to the dishonour of God, and contempt of religion, to prevent such irregularities for the future, it is this day ordered by the consent of a vestry legally called and kept that the said custom shall stop and be discontinued entirely hereafter, and whosoever within our said parish encourages or practices and obstinately refuses to obey this our order, we do unanimously consent and join to punish him to the utmost rigour of the law.—W. Williams, Clerk, etc.”

Such Sunday customs were by degrees discontinued entirely in every part of Wales, and the Welsh have been for some generations [39]now, and to their credit still are, the most strict Sabbatarians in the world with the exception perhaps of the Scotch. The Methodists Revivalists in the eighteenth century, who greatly inveighed against Sabbath breaking, contributed towards bringing about this satisfactory state of things.

The curious old Welsh Weddings, which I have endeavoured to describe in this book do not prevail now; the only surviving feature of them is perhaps what is known in some parts as “Ystafell,” and in other parts as “Cwyro Ty.” “Ystafell” is rather popular now in some districts, especially between Tregaron and Lampeter, but instead of a Gwahoddwr or Bidder an aunt or some other near relative of the bride goes round the houses inviting the neighbours to bring wedding gifts so as to give the young couple a good start in life.

I have been informed that similar old wedding customs to those of the Welsh were once in vogue in Cumberland, a county where the Celtic element is very strong, and also in Brittany, another Celtic province, and the present custom of wedding gifts which is so common in connection with fashionable weddings at the present day, is only a survival of the old Welsh customs.

It seems that in China also it is customary for the friends and relations of the bride and bridegroom to present them with wedding gifts, and in Ancient Peru a dwelling was got ready for the newly-married pair at the charge of the district, and the prescribed portion of land assigned for their maintenance, and the ceremony of marriage was followed by general festivities among the friends of the parties, which lasted several days.

Concerning the imaginary origin of the Fairies, it was once a belief in Wales that they were the souls of the virtuous Druids, who not having been Christians, could not enter into heaven, but were too good to be cast into hell!

Another curious belief was that in our Saviour’s time there lived a woman whose fortune it was to be possessed of near a score of children, and as she saw our Blessed Lord approach her dwelling, being ashamed of being so prolific, and that He might not see them all, she concealed about half of them closely, and, [89]after His departure, when she went in search of them, to her surprise she found they were gone. They never afterwards could be discovered, for it was supposed that as a punishment from heaven, for hiding what God had given her, she was deprived of them; and, it is said, these, her offspring, have generated the race of beings called the Fairies.

As to the realistic origin of the Fairies, according to the theories of the learned, they were either the ancient Aborigines, living in seclusion so as to hide themselves from their more powerful conquerors, or the persecuted Druids living in subterraneous places, venturing forth only at night. Whether ancient Aborigines hiding from their conquerors or the Druids who were persecuted by both Romans and Christians the Rev. P. Roberts, author of “Collectana Cambrica,” observes that they used these means to preserve themselves and their families, and whilst the country was thinly peopled, and thickly wooded did so successfully, and perhaps to a much later period than is imagined.

There are dwelling at the present day on the river-banks of the Congo, in Africa, tribes of dwarfs, whose existence, until Sir Harry Johnston’s recent discovery had been regarded as a myth; though they must have lived there from time immemorial.

They exist in caves, and in their ways recall the fairies. “Undoubtedly,” says Sir Harry, “to my thinking, most fairy myths arose from the contemplation of the mysterious habits of dwarf troglodite races lingering on still in the crannies, caverns, forests and mountains of Europe, after the invasion of neolithic man.”

The Fairies are spoken of as people, or folk, not as myths or goblins, and yet as spirits they are immortal, and able to make themselves invisible.

The most general name given them in Wales is “Y Tylwyth Teg,” (the Fair Family, or Folk); but they are known sometimes as “Bendith y Mamau” (the Mothers’ Blessing); and the term “gwragedd Annwn,” (dames of the lower regions), is often applied to the Fairy Ladies who dwelt in lakes or under lakes. Sometimes such terms as “Plant Annwn,” (children of the lower regions); Ellyll an elf; Bwbach etc., were applied to them, but such appellations have never been in common use. They were also known as “Plant Rhys Ddwfn” in some parts of the Vale of Teivy, more especially in the neighbourhood of Cardigan. But the general term Tylwyth Teg, is known everywhere. [90]

The Fairies were small handsome creatures in human form; very kind to, and often showered benefits on those who treated them kindly, but most revengeful towards those who dared to treat them badly. They were dressed in green, and very often in white, and some of their maidens were so beautiful, that young men sometimes would fall over head and ears in love with them, especially whilst watching them dancing on a moonlight night; for the old belief was concerning the Fairies, that on moonlight nights they were wont to join hands, and form into circles, and dance and sing with might and main until the cock crew, then they would vanish.

The circles in the grass of green fields are still called “Cylchau y Tylwyth Teg” (Fairy Rings). These circles were numerous in Wales when I was a boy; and it was believed by many about forty years ago, if not later that some misfortune would befall any person entering these circles, for I well remember being warned to keep away from them. At the present time, however, I do not know of any person who is afraid of entering them; so it seems that the superstition respecting the Fairy Rings has entirely died out during the last generation.

As to their dwellings, the Fairies were “things under the earth,” for they were generally supposed to dwell in the lower regions, especially beneath lakes, where their country towns and castles were situated; and the people on the coasts of Pembrokeshire imagined that they inhabited certain enchanted green isles of the sea.

The green meadows of the sea, called in the old Welsh Triads Gwerddonau Llion, are the:

A British King in ancient times, whose name was Garvan is said to have sailed away in search of these islands, and never returned. Garvan’s voyage is commemorated in the Triads as one of the “Three Losses by Disappearance.” Southey after citing Dr. W. O. Pughe’s article in the “Cambrian Biography,” goes on as follows:—

“Of these Islands, or Green Spots of the Floods, there are some singular superstitions. They are the abode of the Tylwyth Teg, or the fair family, the souls of the virtuous Druids, who not having been Christians, cannot enter the Christian Heaven, but enjoy this heaven of their own. They, however, discover a love of [91]mischief, neither becoming happy spirits, nor consistent with their original character; for they love to visit the earth, and seizing a man, inquire whether he will travel above wind, mid-wind, or below wind; above wind is a giddy and terrible passage, below wind is through bush and brake, the middle is a safe course. But the spell of security is, to catch hold of the grass. In their better moods they come over and carry the Welsh in their boats. He who visits these islands imagines on his return that he has been absent only a few hours, when, in truth, whole centuries have past away. If you take a turf from St. David’s Churchyard, and stand upon it on the sea shore, you behold these Islands. A man once who thus obtained sight of them, immediately put to sea to find them; but his search was in vain. He returned, looked at them again from the enchanted turf, again set sail, and failed again. The third time he took the turf into his vessel, and stood upon it till he reached them.” Wirt Sikes, in his “British Goblins,” page 8, says that there are sailors on the romantic coasts of Pembrokeshire, and southern Carmarthenshire who still talk of the green meadows of enchantment, which are visible sometimes to the eyes of mortals, but only for a brief space, and they suddenly vanish. He also adds that there are traditions of sailors who, in the early part of the 19th century, actually went ashore on the fairy islands—not knowing that they were such, until they returned to their boats, when they were filled with awe at seeing the islands disappear from their sight, neither sinking in the sea, nor floating away upon the waters, but simply vanishing suddenly. In the account I have just given, a turf from St. David’s Churchyard to stand upon enabled one to behold the enchanted lands of the Fairies; but according to traditions in other parts of the country, it seems that a certain spot in Cemmes was the requisite platform, to see these mythical beings who were known in some parts as Plant Rhys Ddwfn (Children of Rhys the Deep).

In the Brython, Vol. I., page 130, Gwynionydd says as follows:—

“There is a tale current in Dyfed, that there is, or rather that there has been a country between Cemmes, the Northern Hundred of Pembrokeshire, and Aberdaron in Lleyn. The chief patriarch of the inhabitants was Rhys Ddwfn, and his descendants used to be called after him the Children of Rhys Ddwfn.

“They were, it is said, a handsome race enough, but remarkably small in size. It is stated that certain herbs of a strange nature grew in their land, so that they were able to keep their country from being seen by even the most sharp-sighted invaders. [92]

“There is no account that these remarkable herbs grew in any other part of the world, excepting on a small spot, a square yard in area in a certain part of Cemmes. If it chanced that a man stood alone on it, he beheld the whole of the territory of Plant Rhys Ddwfn; but the moment he moved he would lose sight of it altogether, and it would have been nearly vain to look for his footprints.”

In some of the stories about Fairies, we find Fairy Ladies marrying mortals, but always conditionally, and in the end the husband does some prohibited thing which breaks the marriage contract, and his Fairy wife vanishes away. The most beautiful Fairy Legend of this kind is undoubtedly the

Several versions have appeared from time to time of this story, but the most complete one is the one which appeared in Mr. Rees, of Tonn, in his interesting introduction to “The Physicians of Myddvai,” published by the Welsh Manuscript Society, at Llandovery, in 1861; and this is also the version which was reproduced by Principal Sir J. Rhys, of Oxford, in his great work on Celtic Folk-lore.

About five years ago, I came across several old persons in the parish of Myddvai, who could repeat portions of the story, but nothing new, so I give the version of Mr. Rees of Tonn, which is as follows:—

“When the eventful struggle made by the Princes of South Wales to preserve the independency of their country was drawing to its close in the twelfth century, there lived at Blaensawdde, near Llandeusant, Carmarthenshire, a widowed woman, the relict of a farmer who had fallen in those disastrous troubles. The widow had an only son to bring up, but Providence smiled upon her, and despite her forlorn condition, her live stock had so increased in course of time, that she could not well depasture them upon her farm, so she sent a portion of her cattle to graze on the adjoining Black Mountain, and their most favourite place was near the small lake called Llyn y Fan Fach, on the north-western side of the Carmarthenshire Fans.

The son grew up to manhood, and was generally sent by his mother to look after the cattle on the mountain. One day, in his peregrinations along the margin of the lake, to his great astonishment, he beheld sitting on the unruffled surface of the water, a [93]lady, one of the most beautiful creatures that mortal eyes ever beheld, her hair flowed gracefully in ringlets over her shoulders, the tresses of which she arranged with a comb, whilst the glassy surface of her watery couch served for the purpose of a mirror, reflecting back her own image. Suddenly she beheld the young man standing on the brink of the lake, with his eyes riveted on her, and unconsciously offering to herself the provision of barley bread and cheese with which he had been provided when he left his home.

“Bewildered by a feeling of love and admiration for the object before him, he continued to hold out his hand towards the lady, who imperceptibly glided near to him, but gently refused the offer of his provisions. He attempted to touch her, but she eluded his grasp, saying:—

and immediately dived under the water and disappeared, leaving the love-stricken youth to return home, a prey to disappointment and regret that he had been unable to make further acquaintance with one, in comparison with whom the whole of the fair maidens of Llanddeusant and Myddfai whom he had ever seen were as nothing.

“On his return home, the young man communicated to his mother the extraordinary vision he had beheld. She advised him to take some unbaked dough or “toes” the next time in his pocket, as there must have been some spell connected with the hard-baked bread, or “Bara cras,” which prevented his catching the lady.

“Next morning, before the sun had gilded with its rays the peaks of the Fans, the young man was at the lake, not for the purpose of looking after his mother’s cattle, but seeking for the same enchanting vision he had witnessed the day before; but all in vain did he anxiously strain his eyeballs and glance over the surface of the lake, as only the ripples occasioned by a stiff breeze met his view, and a cloud hung heavily on the summits of the Fan, which imparted an additional gloom to his already distracted mind.

Hours passed on, the wind was hushed, and the clouds which had enveloped the mountain had vanished into thin air before the powerful beams of the sun, when the youth was startled by seeing some of his mother’s cattle on the precipitous side of the acclivity, nearly on the opposite side of the lake. His duty impelled him [94]to attempt to rescue them from their perilous position, for which purpose he was hastening away, when to his inexpressible delight, the object of his search again appeared to him as before, and seemed much more beautiful than when he first beheld her. His hand was again held out to her, full of unbaked bread, which he offered with an urgent proffer of his heart also, and vows of eternal attachment. All of which were refused by her saying:—

But the smiles that played upon her features as the lady vanished beneath the waters raised within the young man a hope that forbade him to despair by her refusal of him, and the recollection of which cheered him on his way home. His aged parent was made acquainted with his ill-success, and she suggested that his bread should next time be but slightly baked, as most likely to please the mysterious being of whom he had become enamoured.

“Impelled by an irresistible feeling, the youth left his mother’s house early next morning, and with rapid steps he passed over the mountain. He was soon near the margin of the lake, and with all the impatience of an ardent lover did he wait with a feverish anxiety for the reappearance of the mysterious lady.

“The sheep and goats browsed on the precipitous sides of the Fan; the cattle strayed amongst the rocks and large stones, some of which were occasionally loosened from their beds and suddenly rolled down into the lake; rain and sunshine alike came and passed away; but all were unheeded by the youth, so wrapped up was he in looking for the appearance of the lady.

“The freshness of the early morning had disappeared before the sultry rays of the noon-day sun, which in its turn was fast verging towards the west as the evening was dying away and making room for the shades of night, and hope had well nigh abated of beholding once more the Lady of the Lake. The young man cast a sad and last farewell look over the water, and to his astonishment, beheld several cows walking along its surface. The sight of these animals caused hope to revive that they would be followed by another object far more pleasing; nor was he disappointed, for the maiden reappeared, and to his enraptured sight, even lovelier than ever. She approached the land, and he rushed to meet her in the water. A smile encouraged him to seize her hand; neither did she refuse the moderately baked bread he offered her; and after some persuasion she consented to become his bride, on condition [95]that they should only live together until she received from him three blows without a cause,

and if he ever should happen to strike her three such blows she would leave him for ever. To such conditions he readily consented and would have consented to any other stipulation, had it been proposed, as he was only intent on then securing such a lovely creature for his wife.

“Thus the Lady of the Lake engaged to become the young man’s wife, and having loosened her hand for a moment she darted away and dived into the lake. His chagrin and grief were such that he determined to cast himself headlong into the deepest water, so as to end his life in the element that had contained in its unfathomed depths the only one for whom he cared to live on earth. As he was on the point of committing this rash act, there emerged out of the lake two most beautiful ladies, accompanied by a hoary-headed man of noble mien and extraordinary stature, but having otherwise all the force and strength of youth. This man addressed the almost bewildered youth in accents calculated to soothe his troubled mind, saying that as he proposed to marry one of his daughters, he consented to the union, provided the young man could distinguish which of the two ladies before him was the object of his affections. This was no easy task, as the maidens were such perfect counterparts of each other that it seemed quite impossible for him to choose his bride, and if perchance he fixed upon the wrong one all would be for ever lost.

“Whilst the young man narrowly scanned the two ladies, he could not perceive the least difference betwixt the two, and was almost giving up the task in despair, when one of them thrust her foot a slight degree forward. The motion, simple as it was, did not escape the observation of the youth, and he discovered a trifling variation in the mode with which their sandals were tied. This at once put an end to the dilemma, for he, who had on previous occasions been so taken up with the general appearance of the Lady of the Lake, had also noticed the beauty of her feet and ankles, and on now recognising the peculiarity of her shoe-tie he boldly took hold of her hand.

“‘Thou hast chosen rightly,’ said her father, ‘be to her a kind and faithful husband, and I will give her, as a dowry, as many sheep, cattle, goats, and horses as she can count of each without heaving or drawing in her breath. But remember, that if you [96]prove unkind to her at any time, and strike her three times without a cause, she shall return to me, and shall bring all her stock back with her.’”

Such was the verbal marriage settlement, to which the young man gladly assented, and his bride was desired to count the number of sheep she was to have.

She immediately adopted the mode of counting by fives, thus:—one, two, three, four, five—one, two, three, four, five; and as many times as possible in rapid succession, till her breath was exhausted. The same procession of reckoning had to determine the number of goat, cattle, and horses respectively; and in an instant the full number of each came out of the lake when called upon by the father.

“The young couple were then married, by what ceremony was not stated, and afterwards went to reside at a farm called Esgair Llaethy, somewhat more than a mile from the Village of Myddfai, where they lived in prosperity and happiness for several years, and became the parents of three sons, who were beautiful children.

“Once upon a time there was a christening to take place in the neighbourhood, to which the parents were specially invited. When the day arrived the wife appeared very reluctant to attend the christening, alleging that the distance was too great for her to walk. Her husband told her to fetch one of the horses which were grazing in an adjoining field. ‘I will,’ said she, ‘if you will bring me my gloves which I left in our house.’ He went to the house and returned with the gloves, and finding that she had not gone for the horse jocularly slapped her shoulder with one of them, saying, ‘go! go!’ (dos, dos), when she reminded him of the understanding upon which she consented to marry him:—That he was not to strike her without a cause; and warned him to be more cautious for the future.

“On another occasion, when they were together at a wedding in the midst of the mirth and hilarity of the assembled guests, who had gathered together from all the surrounding country, she burst into tears and sobbed most piteously. Her husband touched her on her shoulder and inquired the cause of her weeping: she said, ‘Now people are entering into trouble, and your troubles are likely to commence, as you have the second time stricken me without a cause.’

“Years passed on, and their children had grown up, and were particularly clever young men. In the midst of so many worldly blessings at home, the husband almost forgot that there remained only one causeless blow to be given to destroy the whole of his [97]prosperity. Still he was watchful lest any trivial occurrence should take place which his wife must regard as a breach of their marriage contract. She told him, as her affection for him was unabated, to be careful that he would not, through some inadvertence, give the last and only blow, which, by an unalterable destiny over which she had no control, would separate them for ever.

“It, however, so happened that one day they were together at a funeral, where, in the midst of the mourning and grief at the house of the deceased, she appeared in the highest and gayest spirits, and indulged in immoderate fits of laughter, which so shocked her husband that he touched her, saying: ‘Hush! hush! don’t laugh.’ She said that she laughed ‘because people when they die go out of trouble,’ and rising up she went out of the house, saying, ‘The last blow has been struck, our marriage contract is broken, and at an end! Farewell!’ Then she started off towards Esgair Llaethdy, where she called her cattle and other stock together, each by name. The cattle she called thus:—

They all immediately obeyed the summons of their mistress. The ‘little black calf,’ although it had been slaughtered, became alive again, and walked off with the rest of the stock at the command of the lady. This happened in the spring of the year, and there were from four oxen ploughing in one of the fields; to these she cried:—

Away the whole of the live stock went with the Lady across Myddfai Mountain, towards the lake from whence they came, a [98]distance of above six miles, where they disappeared beneath its waters, leaving no trace behind except a well-marked furrow, which was made by the plough the oxen drew after them into the lake, and which remains to this day as a testimony to the truth of this story.

“What became of the affrighted ploughman—whether he was left on the field when the oxen set off, or whether he followed them to the lake, has not been handed down to tradition; neither has the fate of the disconsolate and half-ruined husband been kept in remembrance. But of the sons it is stated that they often wandered about the lake and its vicinity, hoping that their mother might be permitted to visit the face of the earth once more, as they had been apprised of her mysterious origin, her first appearance to their father, and the untoward circumstances which so unhappily deprived them of her maternal care.

“In one of their rambles, at a place near Dol Howel, at the Mountain Gate, still called ‘Llidiad y Meddygon,’ (The Physician’s Gate), the mother appeared suddenly, and accosted her eldest son, whose name was Rhiwallon, and told him that his mission on earth was to be a benefactor to mankind by relieving them from pain and misery, through healing all manner of their diseases; for which purpose she furnished him with a bag full of medical prescriptions and instructions for the preservation of health. That by strict attention thereto he and his family would become for many generations the most skilful physicians in the country. Then, promising to meet him when her counsel was most needed, she vanished. But on several occasions she met her sons near the banks of the lake, and once she even accompanied them on their return home as far as a place still called ‘Pant-y-Meddygon,’ (The dingle of the Physicians) where she pointed out to them the various plants and herbs which grew in the dingle, and revealed to them their medicinal qualities or virtues; and the knowledge she imparted to them, together with their unrivalled skill, soon caused them to attain such celebrity that none ever possessed before them. And in order that their knowledge should not be lost, they wisely committed the same to writing for the benefit of mankind throughout all ages.

And so ends the story of the Physicians of Myddfai, which had been handed down from one generation to another, thus:—

The Physicians of Myddfai were Rhiwallon and his sons, Cadwgan, Gruffydd and Einion, who became Physicians to Rhys Gryg, Lord of Llandovery and Dynefor Castles, who lived in the early part of the thirteenth century. Rhys “gave them rank, lands, and privileges at Myddfai for their maintenance in the practice of their art and science, and the healing and benefit of those who should seek their help.”

The fame of the celebrated Physicians was soon established over the whole country, and continued for centuries among their descendants; and the celebrated Welsh Poet Dafydd ap Gwilym, who flourished in the fourteenth century, says in one of his poems when alluding to these physicians:—

Mr. Rees says that “of the above lands bestowed upon the Meddygon, there are two farms in the Myddfai parish still called “Llwyn Ifan Feddyg,” the Grove of Evan, the Physician, and “Llwyn Meredydd Feddyg” (the Grove of Meredydd the Physician). Esgair Llaethdy, mentioned in the foregoing legend, was formerly in the possession of the above descendants, and so was Ty-newydd, near Myddfai, which was purchased by Mr. Holford, of Cilgwyn, from the Rev. Charles Lloyd, vicar of Llandefalle, Breconshire, who married a daughter of one of the Meddygon, and had the living of Llandefalle from a Mr. Vaughan, who presented him to the same out of gratitude, because Mr. Lloyd, wife’s father had cured him of a disease in the eye. As Mr. Lloyd succeeded to the above living in 1748, and died in 1800, it is probable that that skilful oculist was John Jones, who is mentioned in the following inscription on a tombstone at present fixed against the west end of Myddfai

[100]

These appear to have been the last of the Physicians who practised at Myddfai. The above John Jones resided for some time at Llandovery, and was a very eminent surgeon. One of his descendants, named John Lewis, lived at Cwmbran, Myddfai, at which place his great-grandson, Mr. John Jones, now resides.

“Dr. Morgan Owen, Bishop of Llandaff, who died at Glasallt, parish of Myddfai, in 1645, was a descendant of the Meddygon, and an inheritor of much of their landed property in that parish, the bulk of which he bequeathed to his nephew, Morgan Owen, who died in 1667, and was succeeded by his son Henry Owen; and at the decease of the last of whose descendants, Roberts Lewis, Esqr., the estates became, through the will of one of the family, the property of the late D. A. S. Davies, Esqr., M.P., for Carmarthenshire.

“Bishop Owen bequeathed to another nephew, Morgan ap Rees, son of Rees ap John, a descendant of the Meddygon, the farm of Rhyblid, and some other property.

“Amongst other families who claim descent from the Physicians were the Bowens of Cwmydw, Myddfai, and Jones of Dollgarreg and Penrhock, in the same parish; the latter of whom are represented by Charles Bishop, of Dollgarreg, Esqr., Clerk of the Peace for Carmarthenshire, and Thomas Bishop, of Brecon, Esqr.

“Rees Williams, of Myddfai, is recorded as one of the Meddygon. His great grandson was the late Rice Williams, M.D., of Aberystwyth, who died May l6th, 1842, aged 85, and appears to have been the last, although not the least eminent of the Physicians descended from the mysterious Lady of Llyn y Fan.”

Sir John Rhys mentions of another Dr. Williams also a descendant of the Lady of Llyn y Fan, who was living at Aberystwyth in 1881.

It seems that there are several families in different parts of Wales who are said to have fairy blood coursing through their veins; and the noble Lady Bulkeley, who lived in North Wales, three or four generations was supposed to be descended from a Fairy lady who married a mortal.

There is also a tradition that after the disappearance of the lady the disconsolate husband and his friends set to work to drain the lake in order to get at her, if possible; but as they were making a cutting into the bank a huge monster emerged from the water and threatened to drown the town of Brecon for disturbing him, saying:— [101]

so they had to give up draining the lake.

There are extant several versions of the Myddfai Legend. In the “Cambro Briton” Vol. II., pages 313–315, we have a version in which it is stated that the farmer used to go near the lake and see some lambs he had bought at a fair, and that wherever he so went three most beautiful maidens appeared to him from the lake. But whenever he tried to catch them they ran away into the lake, saying:—

But one day a piece of moist bread came floating ashore, which he ate, and the next day he had a chat with the maidens. After a little conversation he proposed marriage to one of them, to which she consented, provided he could distinguish her from her sisters the day after. Then the story goes on very similar to Mr. Rees’ version which I have already given in full.

In another beautiful version of the story which is given by Sikes in his “British Goblins,” it is said that an enamoured farmer had heard of the lake maiden, who rowed up and down the lake in a golden boat, with a golden oar. Her hair was long and yellow, and her face was pale and melancholy. In his desire to see this wondrous beauty, the farmer went on New Year’s Eve to the edge of the lake and in silence, awaited the coming of the first hour of the new year. It came, and there in truth was the maiden in her golden boat, rowing softly to and fro. Fascinated, he stood for hours beholding her, until the stars faded out of the sky, the moon sank behind the rocks, and the cold gray dawn drew nigh; and then the maiden began to vanish from his sight. Wild with passion, he cried aloud to the retreating vision, “Stay! Stay! Be my wife.” But the maiden only uttered a faint cry, and was gone. Night after night the young farmer haunted the shores of the lake, but the maiden returned no more. He became negligent of his person; his once robust form grew thin and wan; his face was a map of melancholy and despair. He went one day to consult a soothsayer who dwelt on the mountain, and this grave personage advised him to besiege the damsel’s heart with gifts of bread and cheese. This counsel commending itself strongly to his Welsh way of thinking, the former set out upon an assiduous course of casting his bread upon the waters—accompanied by cheese. He began on [102]Mid-summer Eve by going to the lake and dropping therein a large cheese and a loaf of bread. Night after night he continued to throw in loaves and cheeses, but nothing appeared in answer to his sacrifices. His hopes were set, however, on the approaching New Year’s Eve. The momentous night arrived at last. Clad in his best array, and armed with seven white loaves and his biggest and handsomest cheese, he set out once more for the lake. Then he waited till mid-night, and then slowly and solemnly dropped the seven loaves into the water, and with a sigh sent the cheese to keep them company. His persistence was at length rewarded. The Lake Lady came in her skiff to where he was, and gracefully stepped ashore. The story then proceeds as in the other versions.

It was once a custom for people to go up to the lake on the first Sunday in August, when its water was supposed to be boiling; and Bishop Edwards, of St. Asaph, informed Professor Sir J. Rhys, that “an old woman from Myddfai, who is now, that is to say in January, 1881, about eighty years of age, tells me that she remembers thousands and thousands of people visiting the Lake of Little Fan on the first Sunday or Monday in August, and when she was young she often heard old men declare that at that time a commotion took place in the lake, and that its waters boiled, which was taken to herald the approach of the Lake Lady and her oxen.”—Celtic Folk Lore—page 15.

Mr. John Jones, of Pontrhydfendigaid, an old man of over 95 years of age, related to me the following story about seven years ago:—

In the 18th century there was a certain clergyman in North Cardiganshire, who was supposed to have been educated by the Fairies.

When he was a boy, his parents were very ambitious to see their son a clergyman, but, unfortunately, the lad either neglected his studies, or was a regular “blockhead,” and always failed to pass his college examinations, to the great regret and disappointment of his father and mother. One day, however, when the boy was roaming about the country (near the banks of the river Rheidol, as far as Mr. Jones could remember the story), he suddenly met three boys, or rather three little men who were not bigger than boys, who took him into some cave and led him along a subterranean passage into the land of the Fairies. The Fairies proved very kind to him, and when they heard his story, they undertook [103]to help him to learn his lessons, so that in course of time he acquired a considerable knowledge of the classics. After spending a certain number of years very happily in Fairy Land, the young man returned to the world of mortals, and to the great joy of his parents passed his examinations now without the least difficulty, and in due time was ordained by the bishop, and became a vicar of a parish north of Aberystwyth, either Llanfihangel, Llancynfelin, or Eglwysfach.

This tale seems to be a version of the Story of Elidorus, which Giraldus Cambrensis heard in the neighbourhood of Swansea during his “Itinerary through Wales,” with Archbishop Baldwin in the year 1188, which is as follows:—

“A short time before our days, a circumstance worthy of note occurred in these parts, which Elidorus, a priest, most strenuously affirmed had befallen himself. When a youth of twelve years, and learning his letters, since, as Solomon says, “The root of learning is bitter, although the fruit is sweet,” in order to avoid the discipline and frequent stripes inflicted on him by his perceptor, he ran away, and concealed himself under the hollow bank of a river. After fasting in that situation for two days, two little men of pigmy stature appeared to him, saying, ‘If you come with us, we will lead you into a country full of delights and sports.’ “Assenting, and rising up, he followed his guides through a path, at first subterraneous and dark, into a most beautiful country, adorned with rivers and meadows, woods and plains, but obscure, and not illuminated with the full light of the sun.” All the days were cloudy, and the nights extremely dark, on account of the absence of the moon and stars. The boy was brought before the King, and introduced to him in the presence of the court; who, having examined him for a long time, delivered him to his son, who was then a, boy. “These men were of the smallest stature, but very well proportioned in their make; they were all of a fair complexion, with luxuriant hair falling over their shoulders like that of women. “They had horses and greyhounds adapted to their size. “They neither ate flesh nor fish, but lived on milk diet, made up into messes with saffron. “They never took an oath, for they detested nothing so much as lies. “As often as they returned from our upper hemisphere, they reprobated our ambition, infidelities, and inconstances; they had no form of public worship, being strict lovers and reverers, as it seemed, of truth. “The boy frequently returned to our hemisphere, sometimes by the way he had first gone, sometimes by another; at first in [104]company with other persons, and afterwards alone, and made himself known only to his mother, declaring to her the manners, nature and state of that people. “Being desired by her to bring a present of gold, with which that region abounded, he stole, while at play with the King’s son, the golden ball with which he used to divert himself, and brought it to his mother in great haste; and when he reached the door of his father’s house, but not unpursued, and was entering it in a great hurry, his foot stumbled on the threshold, and falling down into the room where his mother was sitting, the two pigmies seized the ball which had dropped from his hand, and departed, showing the boy every mark of contempt and derision. “On recovering from his fall, confounded with shame, and execrating the evil counsel of his mother, he returned by the usual track to the subterraneous road, but found no appearance of any passage, though he searched for it on the banks of the river for nearly the space of a year. “But since those calamities are often alleviated by time, which reason cannot mitigate, and length of time alone blunts the edge of our afflictions, and puts an end to many evils, the youth having been brought back by his friends and mother, and restored to his right way of thinking, and to his learning, in process of time attained the rank of priesthood. “Whenever David II., bishop of St. David’s, talked to him in his advanced state of life concerning this event, he could never relate the particulars without shedding tears. “He had made himself acquainted with the language of that nation, the words of which, in his younger days he used to recite, which, as the bishop often had informed me, were very conformable to the Greek idiom. “When they asked for water, they said ‘ydor ydorum,’ which meant bring water, for ‘ydor’ in their language, as well as in Greek, signifies water, from whence vessels for water are caller ‘udriai’; and ‘Dur’ (dwr) also, in the British language (Welsh) signifies water.

“When they wanted salt they said, ‘Halgein ydorum,’ bring salt: salt is called ‘al’ in Greek, and ‘halen’ in British, for that language, from the length of time which the Britons (then called Trojans, and afterwards Britons, from Brito, their leader), remained in Greece after the destruction of Troy, became in many instances, similar to the Greek.... “If a scrupulous inquirer asks my opinion of the relation here inserted, I answer with Augustine, ‘that the Divine miracles are to be admired, not discussed.’ “Nor do I, by denial, place bounds to the Divine Power, nor, by assent, insolently extend what cannot be extended. “But I always call to mind the saying of St. Jerome: [105]‘You will find,’ says he, ‘Many things incredible and improbable, which nevertheless are true; for nature cannot in any respect prevail against the Lord of nature.’ “These things, therefore, and similar contingencies, I should place, according to the opinion of Augustine, among those particulars which are neither to be affirmed, nor too positively denied.” The above account is of the greatest interest, as it was written 700 years ago, and it also gives the opinion of one who lived in those days, of “these things, and similar contingencies.” It is possible that many of the Fairy Tales throughout the Kingdom, if not throughout the whole of Europe, have been founded on the story of Elidorus, the priest.

The following story appeared in the “Cambrian Superstitions,” by W. Howells, a little book published at Tipton in 1831:—

A stripling, of twelve or more years of age, was tending his father’s sheep on a small mountain called Frenifach, it was a fine morning in June, and he had just driven the sheep to their pasture for the day, when he looked at the top of Frenifawr to observe which way the morning fog declined, that he might judge the weather.

If the fog on Frenifawr (a high mountain in Pembrokeshire, 10 miles from Cardigan) declines to the Pembrokeshire side, the peasants prognosticated fair, if on the Cardiganshire side foul weather.

To his surprise the boy saw what seemed a party of soldiers sedulously engaged in some urgent affair; knowing there could not possibly be soldiers there so early, he with some alarm, looked more minutely, and perceived they were too diminutive for men; yet, thinking his eyesight had deceived him, he went to a more elevated situation, and discovered that they were the “Tylwyth Teg” (Fairies) dancing. He had often heard of them and had seen their rings in the neighbourhood, but not till then had the pleasure of seeing them; he once thought of running home to acquaint his parents, but judging they would be gone before he returned, and he be charged with a falsehood, he resolved to go up to them, for he had been informed that the fairies were very harmless, and would only injure those who attempted to discover their habitation, so by degrees he arrived within a short distance of the ring, where he remained some time observing their motions. They were of both sexes, and he described them as being the most [106]handsome people he had ever seen, they also appeared enchantingly cheerful, as if inviting him to enter and join the dance.

They did not all dance, but those who did, never deviated from the circle; some ran after one another with surprising swiftness, and others (females), rode on small white horses of the most beautiful form. Their dresses, although indescribably elegant, and surpassing the sun in radiance, varied in colour, some being white, others scarlet, and the males wore a red triplet cap, but the females some light head-dress, which waved fantastically with the slightest breeze. He had not remained long ere they made signs for him to enter, and he gradually drew nearer till at length he ventured to place one foot in the circle, which he had no sooner done than his ears were charmed with the most melodious music, which moved him in the transport of the moment, to enter altogether; he was no sooner in than he found himself in a most elegant palace, glittering with gold and pearls; here he enjoyed every variety of pleasure, and had the liberty to range whatever he pleased, accompanied by kind attendants beautiful as the howries; and instead of “Tatws a llaeth,” buttermilk, or fresh boiled flummery, here were the choicest viands and the purest wine in abundance, brought in golden goblets inlaid with gems, sometimes by invisible agency, and at other times by the most beautiful virgins. He had only one restriction, and that was not to drink, upon any consideration (or it was told him it would be fatal to his happiness), from a certain well in the middle of the garden, which contained golden fishes and others of various colours. New objects daily attracts his attention, and new faces presented themselves to his view, surpassing, if possible those he had seen before; new pastimes were continually invented to charm him, but one day his hopes were blasted, and all his happiness fled in an instant. Possessing that innate curiosity nearly common to all, he, like our first parents transgressed, and plunged his hand into the well, when the fishes instantly disappeared, and, putting the water to his mouth, he heard a confused shriek run through the garden: in an instant after, the palace and all vanished away, and to his horror, he found himself in the very place where he first entered the ring, and the scenes around, with the same sheep grazing, were just as he had left them. He could scarcely believe himself, and hoped again, that he was in the magnificent fairy castle; he looked around, but the scene was too well known; his senses soon returned to their proper action, and his memory proved that, although he thought he had been absent so many years, he had been so only so many minutes. [107]

This tale bears a strange contrast as regards the time the boy thought he was away, to most of our fairy tales which represent those who had the pleasure of being with fairies as imagining they had been dancing only a few minutes, when they had been away for years.

The Rev. Z. M. Davies, Vicar of Llanfihangel Genau’r Glyn, told me that he once heard an old man in the Vale of Aeron saying that when he was out late one night, he heard the Fairies singing, and that their music was so delightful that he listened to them for hours; and we find from many of the Fairy Tales that one of their chief occupation in their nightly revels was singing and dancing, and that they often succeeded in inducing men through the allurements of music to join their ranks.

The beautiful old Welsh Air, “Toriad y Dydd” (Dawn of Day) is supposed to have been composed by the Fairies, and which they chanted just as the pale light in the east announced the approach of returning day.

The following “Can y Tylwyth Teg,” or the Fairies’ song, was well-known once in Wales, and these mythical beings were believed to chant it whilst dancing merrily on summer nights.

[108]

Mr. Edward Jones, Pencwm, who only died about 8 years ago, was coming home from Lampeter one moonlight night, and when he came to the top of Trichrug hill, he saw the Fairies dancing in a field close to the road. When he was within a certain distance of them he felt as if his feet were almost lifted up from the ground, and his body so light that he could almost stand in the air.

My informant, Mr. D. Morgan, Carpenter, Llanrhystid, added that Mr. Jones was an intelligent and educated man, who had travelled, and was far from being superstitious.

The following story appeared in “Cymru” for May, 1893, a Welsh Magazine, edited by Owen M. Edwards, M.A. It was written in Welsh by the late eminent Folk-Lorist, Mr. D. Lledrod Davies, and I translate it:—

The farm-house called “Allt Ddu,” is situated about half-way between Pont Rhyd Fendigaid and Tregaron.

It is said that two servant men went out of the house one evening in search for the cattle, which had gone astray. One of the men proceeded in one direction and the other in another way, so as to be more sure of finding the animals.

But after wandering about for hours, one of the two servants came home, but whether he found the cattle or not it is not stated. However, he reached home safely; but the other man, his fellow-servant, came not, and after anxiously expecting him till a late hour of night, he began to feel very uneasy concerning his safety, fearing that the lad had accidentally fallen into some of the pits of the Gors Goch. Next morning came, but the servant came not home; and in vain did they long to hear the sound of his footsteps approaching the house as before.

Then inquiries were made about him, and people went to try and find him, but all in vain. Days past and even weeks without hearing anything about him, till at last his relations began to suspect that his fellow servant had murdered him during the night they were out looking for the cattle. So the servant was summoned before a Court of Justice, and accused of having murdered his fellow-servant on a certain night; but the young man, pleaded not guilty in a most decided manner, and as no witness could be found against him, the case was dismissed; but many people were still very suspicious of him, and the loss of his fellow servant continued [109]to be a black spot on his character. However, it was decided at last to go to the “dyn hysbys,” (a wise man, or a conjurer)—a man of great repute in former days,—to consult with him, and to set the case before him exactly as it had happened. After going and explaining everything to the conjurer concerning the lost servant, he informed them that the young man was still alive.

He then told them to go to a certain place at the same time of night, one year and a day from the time the man was lost, and that they should then and there see him. One year and a day at last passed away, and at that hour the family, and especially the servant, traced their steps to the particular spot pointed out by the conjuror, and there, to their great surprise, whom should they see within the Fairy Circle, dancing as merrily as any, but the lost servant. And now, according to the directions which had been given by the conjurer, the other servant took hold of the collar of the coat of the one who was dancing, and dragged him out of the circle, saying to him—“Where hast thou been lad?” But the lad’s first words were, “Did you find the cattle?” for he thought that he had been with the Fairies only for a few minutes.

Then he explained how he entered the Fairy Circle, and how he was seized by them, but found their company so delightful that he thought he had been with them only for a few minutes.

The following is another of the tales recorded in “Ystraeon y Gwyll,” by the late D. Lledrod Davies:—

“There lived in an old farm house on the banks of the Teivy, a respectable family, and in order to carry on the work of the farm successfully, they kept men servants and maid servants.

One afternoon, a servant-man and a servant girl went out to look for the cows, but as they were both crossing a marshy flat, the man suddenly missed the girl, and after much shouting and searching, no sound of her voice could be heard replying. He then took home the cows, and informed the family of the mysterious disappearance of the servant maid which took place so suddenly. As the Fairies were suspected, it was resolved to go to the dyn hysbys (wise man).

To him they went, and he informed them that the girl was with the Fairies, and that they could get her back from them, by being careful to go to a certain spot at the proper time at the end of a year and a day. They did as they were directed by the “wise man,” and to their great surprise, found the maid among [110]the fairies dancing and singing with them, and seemed as happy as a fish in the water. Then they successfully drew her out of the ring, and they took her home safely. The master had been told by the “Wise Man” that the girl was not to be touched by iron, or she would disappear at once after getting her out of the ring.

One day, however, when her master was about to start from home, and whilst he was getting the horse and cart ready, he asked the girl to assist him, which she did willingly; but as he was bridling the horse, the bit touched the girl and she disappeared instantly, and was never seen from that day forth.

The following story was related to me by Mrs. Davies, Bryneithyn, in the neighbourhood of Ystrad Meurig, where the tale is well-known:—

An old woman known as Nancy of Pen Gwndwn, kept a little boy servant, whom she sent one evening to the neighbouring village with a bottle to get some barm for her, and as he had to pass through a field which was frequented by the Fairies, he was told by the old woman to keep away from their circles or rings. The boy reached the village, got the barm, and in due time proceeded on his homeward journey, but did not reach home. Search was made for him in all directions, and people were able to trace his steps as far as the Fairies’ field, but no further, so it was evident that the Fairies had seized him. At the end of a year and a day, however, to the great surprise of everybody, the boy came home, entered the house, with the bottle of barm in hand, and handed it to the old woman as if nothing unusual had happened. The boy was greatly surprised when he was told that he had been away for twelve months and a day. Then he related how he fell in with the Fairies, whom he found such nice little men, and whose society was so agreeable that he lingered among them, as he thought, for a few minutes.

In the parish of Cynwil Elvet, there is a farmhouse called Fos Anna, a place which was known to the writer of this book once when a boy:—

A servant girl at this farm once went rather late in the evening to look for the cows, and, unfortunately, got into the Fairy ring, and although she had been a long period without food she did not feel hungry. [111]

A Carmarthenshire tradition names among those who lived for a period among the Fairies no less a person than the translator into Welsh of Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress.”

“He was called Iago ap Dewi, and lived in the parish of Llanllawddog, in a cottage situated in the wood of Llangwyly. He was absent from the neighbourhood for a long period, and the universal belief among the peasantry was that Iago got out of bed one night to gaze on the starry sky, as he was accustomed (astrology being one of his favourite studies), and whilst thus occupied the Fairies, passing by, carried him away, and he dwelt with them seven years. Upon his return, he was questioned by many as to where he had been, but always avoiding giving them a reply.”

A district famous for Fairies long ago was the parish of Llanedi in Carmarthenshire, and Mr. Williams, says in his “Llen Gwerin Sir Gaerfyrddin,” that an intelligent old man in that parish, named John Rees, gave him the following story of

This story which is similar to some of the tales I have already given as located in other parts is as follows:—

A certain man of Llanedi, on one occasion long ago, went away to another neighbourhood, leading by the “penwast” (collar) a very wild and unmanageable horse; and in order to be sure not to lose his hold of the animal, the man tied the end of the collar round the middle. So both man and horse went together and got lost. After much searching the horse was found without the collar, but nothing was heard of the man. After giving up searching for him as hopeless, they at last consulted a “Dyn Hysbys,” (a conjuror or a wise man). The wise man directed them to go on a certain night into a field known as Cae Cefn Pantydwr, about forty yards from the road where the Fairies could be seen dancing, and the lost man among them, with the “penwast” still around his waist, which would enable them to know him; and the way to get him out of the Fairy Ring was to watch him coming round in the dance, and take hold of the collar when an opportunity offered itself, and drag the man out boldly. They did so, and the man was rescued. Ever since then people dreaded going to that field after dark, especially children.

In some parts of Carmarthenshire, Fairy Rings are known as “Rings y Gwr Drwg” (the rings of the Old Gentleman), suggesting that the Fairies had some connection with the evil one. [112]

The writer of the following tale was the late Rev. Benjamin Williams (Gwynionydd), an eminent antiquarian, Folk-Lorist, and a bard, and it is to be found in Welsh in Y Brython, vol. III., page 460. It is evident that the scene of the story was West or Mid-Wales. Mr. Williams heard the tale from old people who believed in the truth of it:—

“Yr oedd mab Llech y Derwydd yn unig blentyn ei rieni, ac hefyd yn etifedd y tyddyn. Yr oedd felly yn anwyl, ie, yn ddau lygad ei dad a’i fam.

“Yr oedd y pen gwas a mab y ty yn gyfeillion mynwesol iawn, fel dau frawd, ie, fel gyfeilliaid. Gan fod y mab a’r gwas y fath gyfeillion, byddai gwraig y ty bob amser yn darpar dillad i’r gwas yr un peth yn hollol ag i’r mab. Cwympodd y ddau gyfaill mewn serch a dwy ddynes ieuainc, brydferth, ac uchel eu parch yn yr ardal, a mawr oedd y boddineb yn Llech y Derwydd; ac yn fuan ymunodd y ddau bar mewn glan briodas, a mawr fu y rhialtwch ar yr amser. Cafodd y gwas le cyfleus i fyw ar dir Llech y Derwydd. Yn mhen tua haner blwyddyn ar ol priodi o’r mab, aeth ei gyfaill ac yntau allan i hela; enciliodd y deiliad i ryw gilfach lawn o anialwch, i edrych am helwriaeth; a dychwelodd yn y man at ei gyfaill, ond erbyn dyfod yno, nid oedd modd gweled y mab yn un man. Parhaodd i edrych o gwmpas am dro gan waeddi a chwibanu, ond dim un arwydd am ei gyfaill. Yn mhen tro aeth adref i Llech y Derwydd, gan ddysgwyl ei weled yno; ond ni wyddai neb ddim am dano. Mawr oedd y gofid yn y teulu drwy y nos; ac erbyn dranoeth yr oedd eu pryder yn llawer mwy. Aethpwyd i weled y fan lle y gwelodd ei gyfaill ef olaf. Wylai ei fam a’i wraig am y gwaethaf. Yr oedd y tad dipyn yn well na’i wraig a’i fam, ond edrychai yntau fel yn haner gwallgof. Edrychwyd ar y fan olaf y gwelodd y deiliad ef, ac er eu mawr syndod a’u gofid, canfyddasent gylch y Tylwyth Teg gerllaw y fan, a chofiodd y deiliad yn y man iddo glywed swn peroriaeth hudoliaethus iawn rywle ar y pryd. Penderfynwyd ar unwaith iddo fod mor anffodus a myned i gylch y Tylwyth, a chael ei gludo ymaith na wyddid i ba le.

“Aeth wythnosau a misoedd gofidus heibio, a ganwyd mab i fab Llech y Derwydd; ond nid oedd y tad ieuanc yno i gael gweled ei blentyn, ac yr oedd hyny yn ofidus iawn gan yr hen bobl. Beth bynag, daeth y dyn bach i fyny yr un ddelw a’i dad, fel pe buasai wedi ei arlunio; a mawr ydoedd yng ngolwg ei daid a’i nain. Efe oedd pobpeth yno. Tyfodd i oedran gwr, a phriododd [113]a merch landeg yn y gymydogaeth; ond nid oedd gair da i’r tylwyth eu bod yn bobl hawddgar.

“Bu farw yr hen bobl, a bu farw y ferch-yng-nghyfraith hefyd. Ar ryw brydnawn gwyntog, ym mis Hydref, gwelai teulu Llech y Derwydd henafgwr tal, teneu, a’i farf a’i wallt fel yr eira, yr hwn a dybient ydoedd Iddew, yn dynesu yn araf araf at y ty. Hylldremiai y morwynion drwy y ffenestr, a chwarddai y feistress am ben yr ‘hen Iddew,’ gan godi y plant un ar ol y llall i’w weled yn dyfod. Daeth at y drws, a daeth i mewn hefyd yn lled eofn, gan ofyn am ei rieni. Atebai y wraig ef yn daeog, a choeglyd anghyffredin, gan ddywedyd, ‘Beth oedd yr hen Iddew meddw yn dyfod yno,’ oblegid tybient ei fod wedi yfed, onid e ni fuasai yn siarad felly. Edrychai yr hen wr yn syn a phryderus iawn ar bob peth yn y ty, gan synu llawer; ond ar y plant bychain ar hyd y llawr y sylwai fwyaf. Edrychai yn llawn siomedigaeth a gofid. Dywedodd yr hanes i gyd, iddo fod allan yn hela ddoe, a’i fod yn awr yn dychwelyd. Dywedodd y wraig iddi glywed chwedl am dad ei gwr flynyddau cyn ei geni, ei fod wedi myned ar goll wrth hela; ond fod ei thad yn dywedyd wrthi nad gwir hyny, mai ei ladd a gafodd. Aeth y wraig yn anystywallt, ac yn llwyr o’i chof eisiau fod yr hen ‘Iddew’ yn myned allan. Cyffrodd yr hen wr, a dywedai mai efe ydoedd perchen y ty, ac y byddai raid iddo gael ei hawl. Aeth allan i weled ei feddianau, ac yn fuan i dy y deiliad. Er ei syndod, yr oedd pethau wedi newid yn fawr yno. Ar ol ymddiddan am dro a hen wr oedranus wrth y tan, edrychai y naill fwy fwy ar y llall. Dywedai yr hen wr beth fu tynged ei ben gyfaill, mab Llech y Derwydd. Siaradent yn bwyllog am bethau mebyd, ond yr oedd y cyfan fel breuddwyd. Beth bynag, penderfynodd yr hen wr yn y cornel mai ei hen gyfaill, mab Llech y Derwydd, oedd yr ymwelydd, wedi dychwelyd o wlad y Tylwyth Teg, ar ol bod yno haner can’ mlynedd. Credodd yr hen wr a’r farf wen ei dynged, a mawr y siarad a’r holi fu gan y naill y llall am oriau lawer.

“Dywedai fod gwr Llech y Derwydd y diwrnod hwnw oddi cartref. Cafwyd gan yr hen ymwelydd fwyta bwyd; ond er mawr fraw, syrthiodd y bwytawr yn farw yn y fan. Nid oes hanes fod trengholiad wedi bod ar y corff; ond dywedai y chwedl mae yr achos oedd, iddo fwyta bwyd ar ol bod yn myd y Tylwyth Teg cyhyd. Mynodd ei hen gyfaill weled ei gladdu yn ochr ei deidiau. Bu melldith fyth, hyd y silcyn ach, yn Llech y Derwydd, o blegid sarugrwydd y wraig i’w thad-yng-nghyfraith, nes gwerthu y lle naw gwaith.” [114]

The above tale translated into English reads as follows:—

“The son of Llech y Derwydd was the only child of his parents, and also the heir to the farm. He was, therefore, very dear to his father and mother, yea, he was as the very light of their eyes. The son and the head servant man were more than bosom friends, they were like two brothers, or rather twins. As the son and the servant were such close friends, the farmer’s wife was in the habit of clothing them exactly alike. The two friends fell in love with two young handsome women who were highly respected in the neighbourhood. This event gave the old people great satisfaction, and ere long the two couples were joined in holy wedlock, and great was the merry-making on the occasion. The servant man obtained a convenient place to live in on the grounds of Llech y Derwydd.

“About six months after the marriage of the son, he and the servant man went out to hunt. The servant penetrated to a ravine filled with brushwood to look for game, and presently returned to his friend, but by the time he came back the son was nowhere to be seen. He continued awhile looking about for his absent friend, shouting and whistling to attract his attention, but there was no answer to his calls. By and by he went home to Llech y Derwydd, expecting to find him there, but no one knew anything about him. Great was the grief of the family throughout the night, but it was even greater next day. They went to inspect the place where the son had last been seen. His mother and his wife wept bitterly, but the father had greater control over himself, still he appeared as half mad. They inspected the place where the servant man had last seen his friend, and, to their great surprise and sorrow, observed a Fairy ring close by the spot, and the servant recollected that he had heard seductive music somewhere about the time that he parted with his friend.

“They came to the conclusion at once that the man had been so unfortunate as to enter the Fairy ring, and they conjectured that he had been transported no one knew where. Weary weeks and months passed away, and a son was born to the absent man.

“The little one grew up the very image of his father, and very precious was he to his grandfather and grandmother. In fact, he was everything to them. He grew up to man’s estate and married a pretty girl in the neighbourhood, but her people had not the reputation of being kind-hearted. The old folks died, and also their daughter-in-law.

“One windy afternoon in the month of October, the family of Llech y Derwydd saw a tall thin old man with beard and hair as [115]white as snow, who they thought was a Jew approaching slowly, very slowly, towards the house. The servant girls stared mockingly through the window at him, and their mistress laughed unfeelingly at the ‘old Jew,’ and lifted the children up, one after the other, to get a sight of him as he neared the house.

“He came to the door, and entered the house boldly enough, and inquired after his parents. The mistress answered him in a surly and unusually contemptuous manner and wished to know ‘What the drunken old Jew wanted there,’ for they thought he must have been drinking or he would never have spoken in the way he did. The old man looked at everything in the house with surprise and bewilderment, but the little children about the floor took his attention more than anything else. His looks betrayed sorrow and deep disappointment. He related his whole history, that yesterday he had gone out to hunt, and that now he had returned. The mistress told him that she had heard a story about her husband’s father, which occurred before she was born, that he had been lost whilst hunting, but that her father had told her that the story was not true, but that he had been killed. The woman became uneasy and angry that the old ‘Jew’ did not depart. The old man was roused, and said that the house was his, and that he would have his rights. He went to inspect his possessions, and shortly afterwards directed his steps to the servant’s house. To his surprise he saw that things were greatly changed. After conversing awhile with an aged man who sat by the fire, they carefully looked each other in the face, and the old man by the fire related the sad history of his lost friend, the son of Llech y Derwydd.

“They conversed together deliberately on the events of their youth, but all seemed like a dream. However, the old man in the corner came to the conclusion that his visitor was his old friend, the son of Llech y Derwydd, returned from the land of the Fairies, after spending there fifty years.

“The old man with the white beard believed the story related by his friend, and long was the talk and many were the questions which the one gave to the other. The visitor was informed that the master of Llech y Derwydd was from home that day, and he was persuaded to eat some food; but to the horror of all, when he had done so, he instantly fell down dead. We are not informed that an inquest was held over the body; but the tale relates that the cause of the man’s sudden death was that he ate food after having been so long in the land of the Fairies. His old friend insisted on the dead man being buried with his ancestors. The rudeness of the mistress of Llech y Derwydd to her father-in-law [116]brought a curse upon the place and family, ‘hyd y silcyn ach,’ and her offence was not expiated until the farm had been sold nine times.”

The following Fairy Legend appeared in “British Goblins,” page 75:—

Taffy ap Sion, the shoemaker’s son, living near Pencader, Carmarthenshire, was a lad who many years ago entered the Fairy circle on the mountain hard by there, and having danced a few minutes as he supposed, chanced to step out. He was then astonished to find that the scene which had been so familiar was now quite strange to him. Here were roads and houses he had never seen, and in place of his father’s humble cottage there now stood a fine stone farmhouse. About him were lovely cultivated fields instead of the barren mountain he was accustomed to.

‘Ah,’ thought he, ‘this is some Fairy trick to deceive my eyes. It is not ten minutes since I stepped into that circle, and now when I step out they have built my father a new house! Well, I only hope it is real; anyhow, I’ll go and see.’ So he started off by a path he knew instinctively, and suddenly struck against a very solid hedge. He rubbed his eyes, felt the hedge with his fingers, scratched his head, felt the hedge again, ran a thorn into his fingers and cried out, ‘Wbwb’ this is no Fairy hedge anyhow, nor, from the age of the thorns, was it grown in a few minutes’ time! So he climbed over it and walked on. ‘Here was I born,’ said he, as he entered the farmyard, staring wildly about him, ‘and not a thing here do I know!’ His mystification was complete, when there came bounding towards him a huge dog, barking furiously. ‘What dog is this? Get out you ugly brute! Don’t you know I’m master here?—at least, when mother’s from home, for father don’t count.’ But the dog only barked the harder. ‘Surely,’ muttered Taffy to himself, ‘I have lost my road and am wandering through some unknown neighbourhood; but no, yonder is the Careg Hir!’ and he stood staring at the well-known erect stone thus called, which still stands on the mountain south of Pencader, and is supposed to have been placed there in ancient times to commemorate a victory. As Taffy stood thus, looking at the long stone, he heard footsteps behind him, and turning, beheld the occupant of the farmhouse, who had come out to see why his dog was barking.

Poor Taffy was so ragged and wan that the farmer’s Welsh heart was at once stirred to sympathy. ‘Who are you, poor man?’ [117]he asked, to which Taffy answered, ‘I know who I was, but I do not know who I am now. I was the son of a shoemaker who lived in this place, this morning; for that rock, though it is changed a little, I know too well.’ ‘Poor fellow,’ said the farmer, ‘You have lost your senses. This house was built by my great-grandfather, repaired by my grandfather; and that part there, which seems newly built, was done about three years ago at my expense. You must be deranged, or you have missed the road; but come in and refresh yourself with some victuals, and rest.’ Taffy was half persuaded that he had overslept himself and lost his road, but looking back he saw the rock before mentioned, and exclaimed, ‘It is but an hour since I was on yonder rock robbing a hawk’s nest.’ ‘Where have you been since?’ Taffy related his adventure. ‘Ah,’ quoth the farmer, ‘I see how it is—you have been with the Fairies. Pray who was your father?’ ‘Sion Evan y Crydd o Glanrhyd,’ was the answer. ‘I never heard of such a man,’ said the farmer, shaking his head, ‘nor of such a place as Glanrhyd, either; but no matter, after you have taken a little food we will step down to Catti Shon, at Pencader, who will probably be able to tell something.’ With this he beckoned Taffy to follow him, and walked on; but hearing behind him the sound of footsteps growing weaker and weaker, he turned round, when to his horror he beheld the poor fellow crumble in an instant to about a thimbleful of black ashes. The farmer, though much terrified at this sight, preserved his calmness sufficiently to go at once and see old Catti, the aged crone he had referred to, who lived at Pencader, near by. He found her crouching over a fire of faggots, trying to warm her old bones. ‘And how do you do the day, Catti Shon?’ asked the farmer. ‘Ah,’ said old Catti, ‘I’m wonderful well, farmer, considering how old I am.’ ‘Yes, yes, you are very old. Now, since you are so old, let me ask you—do you remember anything about Sion y Crydd o Glanrhyd? Was there ever such a man, do you know?’ ‘Sion Glanrhyd? O! I have a faint recollection of hearing my grandfather, old Evan Shenkin, Penferdir, relate that Sion’s son was lost one morning, and they never heard of him afterwards, so that it was said he was taken by the Fairies. His father’s cottage stood somewhere near your house.’ ‘Were there many Fairies about at that time?’ asked the farmer. ‘O, yes; they were often seen on yonder hill, and I was told they were lately seen in Pant Shon Shenkin, eating flummery out of egg-shells, which they had stolen from a farm hard by.’ ‘Dir anwyl fi!’ cried the farmer; ‘dear me! I recollect now—I saw them myself.’ [118]

Another story very similar to the one I have just given is the legend of Shon ap Shenkin, which was related to Mr. Sikes by a farmer’s wife near the reputed scene of the tale, that is the locality of Pant Shon Shenkin, the famous centre of Carmarthenshire Fairies:—

“Shon ap Shenkin was a young man who lived hard by Pant Shon Shenkin. As he was going afield early one fine summer’s morning he heard a little bird singing, in a most enchanting strain, on a tree close by his path. Allured by the melody, he sat down under the tree until the music ceased, when he arose and looked about him. What was his surprise at observing that the tree, which was green and full of life when he sat down, was now withered and barkless! Filled with astonishment he returned to the farmhouse which he had left, as he supposed, a few minutes before; but it also was changed, grown older, and covered with ivy. In the doorway stood an old man whom he had never before seen; he at once asked the old man what he wanted there. ‘What do I want here?’ ejaculated the old man, reddening angrily; ‘that’s a pretty question! Who are you that dare to insult me in my own house?’ ‘In your own house? How is this? where’s my father and mother, whom I left here a few minutes since, whilst I have been listening to the charming music under yon tree, which, when I rose, was withered and leafless’ ‘Under the tree!—music!’ ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Shon ap Shenkin.’ ‘Alas, poor Shon, and this is indeed you!’ cried the old man. ‘I often heard my grandfather, your father, speak of you, and long did he bewail your absence. Fruitless inquiries were made for you; but old Catti Maddock of Brechfa said you were under the power of the Fairies, and would not be released until the last sap of that sycamore tree would be dried. Embrace me, my dear uncle, for you are my uncle ... embrace your nephew.’ With this the old man extended his arms, but before the two men could embrace, poor Shon ap Shenkin crumbled into dust on the door-step.”

It is very interesting to compare this story of Shon ap Shenkin, under the power of the Fairies, listening to the birds of enchantment, with the warriors at Harlech listening to the Birds of Rhiannon, in the Mabinogi of Branwen, daughter of Llyr.

Bran Fendigaid, a Welsh King in ancient times, had a palace at Harlech, and had a sister named Bronwen, or White Breast, whom Matholwch the King of Ireland married on account of her wonderful beauty. After a while, however, the foster brothers of Matholwch [119]began to treat Bronwen very cruelly till at last she found means to send a message to her brother Bran, in Wales; and this she did by writing a letter of her woes, which she bound to a bird’s wing which she had reared. The bird reached Bronwen’s brother, Bran, who, when he read the letter sailed for Ireland immediately, and during a fearful warfare in that country he was poisoned with a dart in his foot. His men had been bidden by their dying chief to cut off his head and bear it to London and bury it with the face towards France. They did as they were bidden by Bran previous to his death, and various were the adventures they encountered while obeying this injunction. At Harlech they stopped to rest, and sat down to eat and drink.

While there, they heard three birds singing a sweet song, “at a great distance over the sea,” though it seemed to them as though they were quite near. These were the birds of Rhiannon. Their notes were so sweet that warriors were known to have remained spell-bound for 80 years listening to them. The birds sang so sweetly that the men rested for seven years, which appeared but a day. Then they pursued their way to Gwales in Pembrokeshire, and there remained for four score years, during which the head of Bran was uncorrupted. At last they went to London and buried it there.

The old Welsh poets often allude to the birds of Rhiannon, and they are also mentioned in the Triads; and the same enchanting fancy reappears in the local story of Shon ap Shenkin, which I just gave.

Mr. Ernest Rhys in the present day sings:—

In the region of myth and romance Rhiannon, the songs of whose birds were so enchanting, was the daughter of Heveydd Hen, who by her magic arts foiled her powerful suitor, Gwawl ap Clud, and secured as her consort the man of her choice, Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed. In Welsh Mythology several members of the kingly families are represented as playing the role of magicians.

It may be added that it is interesting to compare both the story of Shion ap Shenkin, and that of the birds of Rhiannon, with Longfellow’s “Golden Legend,” originally written in the thirteenth century by Jacobus de Voragine, in which Monk Felix is represented as listening to the singing of a snow-white bird for a hundred years, which period passed as a single hour. [120]

[122]

In the stories I have already given those who fell into the hands of the Fairies were rescued or returned from them after a certain period of time; but I have heard some stories in which the victim never returned. A woman at Pontshan, Llandyssul, in Cardiganshire, related to me a story of a servant girl in that neighbourhood who was captured by the Fairies and never returned home again. A few months ago another tale of this kind was related to me at Llanrhystyd:

Mr David Morgan, Carpenter, Llanrhystyd, informed me that some years ago the maid servant of Pencareg Farm in the neighbourhood, went out one evening to bring home the cattle which were grazing some distance away from the house. A boy employed to look after the cattle in the day-time known as “bugail bach,” saw the Fairies dragging the maid into their circle or ring, where she joined them in their dances. Search was made for her everywhere, but she was never seen again.

“Shui was a beautiful girl of seventeen, tall and fair, with a skin like ivory, hair black and curling, and eyes of dark velvet. She was but a poor farmer’s daughter, notwithstanding her beauty, and among her duties was that of driving up the cows for the milking. Over this work she used to loiter sadly, to pick flowers by the way, or chase the butterflies, or amuse herself in any agreeable manner that fortune offered. For her loitering she was often chided, indeed, people said Shui’s mother was far too sharp with the girl, and that it was for no good the mother had so bitter a tongue. After all the girl meant no harm, they said. But when one night Shui never came home till bed-time, leaving the cows to care for themselves, dame Rhys took the girl to task as she never had done before. ‘Ysgwaetheroedd, Mami,’ said Shui, ‘I could not help it; it was the Tylwyth Teg,’ (the Fairies). The dame was aghast at this, but she could not answer it—for well she knew the Tylwyth Teg were often seen in the woods of Cardigan. Shui was at first shy about talking of the Fairies, but finally confessed they were little men in green coats, who danced around her and made music on their little harps; and they talked to her in language too beautiful to be repeated; indeed she couldn’t understand the words, though she knew well enough what the Fairies meant. Many a time after that Shui was late; but now nobody chided her, for fear of offending the Fairies. At last one night [123]Shui did not come home at all. In alarm the woods were searched; there was no sign of her; and never was she seen in Cardigan again. Her mother watched in the fields on the Tair-nos ysprydion or three nights of the year when goblins are sure to be abroad; but Shui never returned. Once indeed there came to the neighbourhood a wild rumour that Shui Rhys had been seen in a great city in a foreign land—Paris, perhaps, or London, who knows? but this tale was in no way injurious to the sad belief that the Fairies had carried her off; they might take her to those well-known centres of idle and sinful pleasure, as well as to any other place.”1

One Robert Burton, in his “History of the Principality of Wales,” published 215 years ago, says:—“John Lewes, Esq., a Justice of Peace at Glankerrig, near Aberystwyth, in this county, in the year 1656, by several letters to Mr. B. A., late worthy divine deceased, gives an account of several strange apparitions in Carmarthenshire, Pembrokeshire, and this county (Cardiganshire), about that time, confirmed by divers persons of good quality and reputation the substance of whereof are as followeth. A man and his family being all in bed, he being awake about midnight, perceived by a light entering the little room where he lay, and about a dozen in the shapes of men, and two or three women with small children in their arms following, they seemed to dance, and the chamber appeared much wider and lighter than formerly. They seemed to eat bread and cheese all about a kind of a tick upon the ground, they offered him some, and would smile upon him, he heard no voice, but calling once upon God to bless him, he heard a whispering voice in Welsh bidding him hold his peace. They continued there about four hours, all which time he endeavoured to wake his wife but could not. Afterwards they went into another room, and having danced awhile departed. He then arose, and though the room was very small, yet he could neither find the door, nor the way to bed again until crying out his wife and family awoke.

“He living within two miles of Justice Lewes, he sent for him, being a poor honest husbandman and of good report, and made him believe he would put him to his oath about the truth of this Relation, who was very ready to take it.” [124]

A very old man named John Jones, who lives at Llanddeiniol, about six miles from Aberystwyth, informed me that many years ago, when he was a young man, or a lad of 18, he was engaged as a servant at a farm called Perthrhys, in that neighbourhood. One evening after supper he went to the tailor who was making him a suit of clothes; but as the clothes were not quite ready he had to wait till a late hour before returning home, but it was a delightful moonlight night. As he proceeded along a lonely path across a certain moor known as Rhosrhydd, and happened to look back he was suddenly surprised by seeing two young men or boys as he thought, coming after him. At first he thought they were some boys trying to frighten him; but after they had followed him for a short distance till they came within about 30 or 40 yards of him, they turned out from the path, and began to jump and to dance, going round and round as if they followed a ring or a circle just as we hear of the fairies. They were perfectly white, and very nimble, and the old man informed me that there was something supernatural both in their appearance and movements; and that he is convinced to this day that they could not have been human beings. When he arrived home at the farm, and related his adventure, every one in the house was of the opinion that the strange beings he had seen were the Fairies.

A man named Timothy in the parish of Llanarth, Cardiganshire, told me that an old woman known as Nancy Tynllain and her son, Shenkin Phillips, had seen the Tylwyth Teg (fairies) on one occasion. Nancy died over sixty years ago. She and her son one day left home rather early in the morning, as they were going to Cynon’s Fair, and had some distance to go. As they proceeded on their horses in the direction of Wilgarn, they saw the Fairies, mounted on small horses, galloping round and round as in a circle round about a certain hillock, and Nancy took particular notice that one of the Fairy women had a red cloak on. As the old woman and her son were looking on, watching the movements of the Fairies, Nancy remarked, “That Fairy woman over there rides very much like myself.” This was at early dawn.

Elias, Forch y Cwm, who was a servant man in the same neighbourhood, was one day ploughing on the field, but when he [125]happened to look about he perceived the Fairies on Bank-Cwmpridd, and coming towards him. The man ran home in terror from the field, and this was in broad daylight.

The late Mr. T. Compton Davies, Aberayron, an eminent Folk-Lorist, related to me the following two stories, and informed me that he had already written them in Welsh for “Cymru,” in which excellent periodical they appeared, September, 1892, page 117.

About the year 1860, a builder from Aberayron, in Cardiganshire, was erecting a Vicarage at Nantcwnlle, about nine miles from Aberayron, not far from Llangeitho. There was a certain man there employed as a painter, whose name was John Davies, a harmless and superstitious character, who once had been an exciseman, afterwards a carpenter, and at last became a painter, though he did not shine in either of the two trades. He was however, a brilliant musician, and belonged to a musical family. He was acquainted with the works of Handel, Mozart, Haydn, and Beethoven, whilst one of his favourites was the song of the Witches in “Macbeth,” He also always carried his flute in his pocket. Whilst this Nantcwnlle Vicarage was in course of construction, John was sent one day on a message to Aberayron. He went there in due time, and in the afternoon left the town and started on his return journey, having the choice of two roads—either returning through the Vale of Aeron, or across the hill—country of Cilcennin, The latter was a very lonely route, but he chose it as it was about two miles shorter. So John hurried on his journey so as to reach his destination before night. When he came to the little village of Cilcennin, he had a good mind to enter the public house known as the “Commercial,” to see his old friend Llywelyn, when he remembered that it was getting late and that he had to pass by the ghosts of the moors and the Fairy circles on the top of the mountain. After walking on again about a mile, he arrived at another public house, known as “Rhiwlas Arms.” He was now within three miles to the end of his journey, and it occurred to him that it would be a splendid thing to have one pint of beer to give him strength and courage to meet the ghosts. So in he went into the Public House, where he met with many old friends, and drank more than one pint. After taking [126]out his flute from his pocket, John obliged the merry company with many of the old Welsh airs, such as “Ar Hyd y Nos,” “Glan Meddwdod Mwyn,” “Llwyn on,” etc. It was 8 o’clock p.m., and in the middle of October. John started from the house, boasting to those who were present that he was not afraid, but poor fellow, as soon as he went out into the darkness and the stillness of the night, his heart began to beat very fast. Nevertheless, he walked forward from the cross-road towards Hendraws, and turned to a road which led direct to Nantcwnlle. For a considerable distance, there was no hedge except on one side of the road, and nothing but a vast open moor on the other side. John knew that he was to pass a small cottage called Ty-clottas, and expected every moment to see the light of the old woman who lived there, who was known as Peggi Ty-clottas. Unfortunately, John had somehow or other wandered away from the road into the bog; but seeing light before him, he went on confidently. He followed the light for some distance, but did not come to any house, and he noticed that the light was travelling and giving a little jump now and again.

At the early dawn next morning, old Peggi Ty-clottas, when she was half awake, heard some strange music, more strange than she had ever heard before. At first she thought it was the “toili” (phantom funeral), which had come to warn her of her approaching death; for to believe in the “toili” was part of Peggi’s confession of faith. But when she listened attentively, Peggi found out that the music was not a dead march, but rather something light and merry. So it could not have been the “toili.” Afterwards she thought it was the warbling of some bird. Peggi had heard the lark many a time at the break of day singing songs of praises to the Creator. She had also heard the lapwing and other birds, breaking on the loneliness of her solitary home; but never had she heard a bird like this one singing, singing continually without a pause. At last she got up from her bed and went out into the moor in order to see what was there. To her great surprise, she saw a man sitting on a heap, and blowing into some instrument, who took no notice of Peggi. Peggi went quite close to the man and asked him in a loud voice, “What do you want here?” Then the man stirred up and ceased to blow, and with an angry look, said,—“Ah you,—you have spoiled everything; it nearly came to a bargain.” It proved that the man whom Peggi came upon was John Davies, the painter, who had been playing his flute to the Fairies, and had almost made a bargain with them to marry a Fairy lady, when old Peggi came to spoil everything.

[127]

When Mr. T. Compton Davies, heard about John among the Fairies he went to him and begged him to tell him all about it; and he did so. According to John’s own account of his night adventure it was something as follows:—When he got lost in the bog, he followed the light, till presently, he came to a Fairy ring, where a large number of little Fairy ladies danced in it, and to his great surprise, one of them took his arm, so that John also began to dance. And after a while, the Queen of the Fairies herself came on to him, and asked him, “Where do you come from?” John replied, “From the world of mortals,” and added that he was a painter. Then she said to him, that they had no need of a painter in the world of Fairies, as there was nothing getting old there. John found the Fairies all ladies, or at least he did not mention any men. They were very beautiful, but small, and wearing short white dresses coming down to the knees only. When he took out from his pocket his flute and entertained them by playing some Irish, Scotch, and English airs, the Queen informed him that they (the Fairies) were of Welsh descent. Then John played some Welsh airs from Owen Alaw to the great delight of the Fairy ladies, and they had a merry time of it. John soon became a great favourite, and asked for something to drink, but found they were “teetotals.” Then he fell in love with one of the Fairy ladies, and asked the Queen for the hand of the maiden, and informed her that he had a horse named Bob, as well as a cart of his own making. The Queen in reply said that they were not accustomed to mix with mortals, but as he had proved himself such a musician, she gave her consent under the conditions that he and the little lady should come once a month on the full moon night to the top of Mount Trichrug to visit the Fairies. Then the Queen took hold of a pot full of gold which she intended giving John as a dowry, but, unfortunately, at the very last moment, when he was just going to take hold of it, old Peggi TyClottas came to shout and to spoil the whole thing; for as soon as the Fairy ladies saw old Peggi, they all vanished through some steps into the underground regions and John never saw them again. But he continued to believe as long as he lived that he had been with the Fairies.

Mr. Compton Davies, also informed me that there were two men in his neighbourhood who had seen the Fairies about 45 years ago, and he directed me to go and see them so as to hear everything from their own lips. One of them, David Evans, Red [128]Lion, lives at Aberayron, and the other Evan Lewis is a farmer near Mydroilyn, in the parish of Llanarth. I went to see both of them, and they gave me a full account of what they had seen which was something as follows:—

In August, 1862, David Evans and Evan Lewis, went from the Coast of Cardiganshire with their waggons all the way to Brecon for some timber for ship-building, which was going on at New Quay. On their return journey, through Carmarthenshire, they stopped for a short time at a place called Cwmdwr on the road leading from Llanwrda to Lampeter. It was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon, and the two men and their horses and waggons were standing opposite a farm known as Maestwynog, where the reapers were busy at work in a wheat-field close by. As they were looking in the direction of a hillside not far off, David Evans saw about fifty small wheat stacks (sopynau bychain), as he at first thought. On second sight, however, he noticed that they were moving about, he took them for reapers. They were all dressed exactly alike, and walked fast one after another up the hillside footpath. David Evans now called the attention of his companion Evan Lewis, whom he asked who the men could have been; but before he had time to make any further remarks, the first of those who were climbing up along the winding footpath had reached a small level spot on the top of the hill. The others quickly followed him, and each one in coming to the top, gave a jump to dance, and they formed a circle. After dancing for a short time, one of the dancers turned in into the middle of the circle, followed by the others, one by one till they appeared like a gimblet screw. Then they disappeared into the ground. After awhile one of them reappeared again, and looked about him in every direction as a rat, and the others followed him one by one and did the same. Then they danced for some time as before, and vanished into the ground as they had done the first time. The two men, David Evans and Evan Lewis were watching them from a distance of about 400 yards and were more than astonished to see men, as they thought, acting in such a strange and curious manner on the hill. They continued looking for some time but the dancers did not appear again. At last the two men proceeded on their journey till they came to an old man working on the road whom they asked whether he knew anything about the men they had seen dancing in a circle on the hill behind Maestwynog. The old man replied that he had not the least idea, but had heard his grandfather say that the Tylwyth Teg (Fairies) used to dance in his time, at which explanation our two friends smiled. [129]

In the above account we see that the hill near Maestwynog was a special haunt of the Fairies, even in modern days. There are certain spots here and there all over Wales, pointed out by old people to this day, as having been frequented in former times by the Fairies to dance and to sing. An old man named James Jones, Golden Lion, Llanarth, informed me that when a boy he heard from the lips of old men, many a tale of Fairies seen on Bank-rhydeiniol; and that they were mounted on horses, riding and playing; and the late Rev. J. Davies, Moria, mentions that there were traditions of them appearing on Bannau Duon in the same parish. In the northern part of Cardiganshire, the people of Talybont showed me a spot a few miles to the east of that village, where these supernatural beings appeared long ago, more especially to dance. The neighbourhood of Aberporth, in the southern part of the same county, was also a favourite spot according to an old woman in the village. Pant Shon Shenkin in the neighbourhood of Pencader was a famous place for Carmarthenshire Fairies, of which district we have already given the reader more than one story.

Gwynionydd in the Brython for 1860, remarks that in former times the Fairies were fond of the mountains of Dyfed, and that travellers in Cardiganshire, between Lampeter and the town of Cardigan often saw them on Llanwenog hill; but after arriving on that spot they would be seen far away on the mountains of Llandyssul, and expecting to find them there, they would be seen somewhere else, both deluding and eluding the traveller.

In the interesting small valley of Cwm Mabws, near Llanrhystyd, nine miles from Aberystwyth, there is a rocky spot known as Craig Rhydderch. Even within the memory of some who are still alive, the caves of Craig Rhydderch were the favourite haunts of the Fairies, where these mysterious beings were thought to dwell, or at least pass through to the underground regions. The Fairies of this part were, it was supposed, some kind of spirits or supernatural beings, and were often seen in the Valley of Mabws going about in their phantom carriages and horses. About fifty years ago when Fairies were still to be seen in this neighbourhood, the eldest son of Penlan farm, and some of the men servants one evening just before dark, took their horses down to the little river which runs through the bottom of the valley in order to give the animals water, as there was no water near the farm-house which stood on [130]high ground. As they were on their way to the river they heard some noise on the road quite near them, and the farmer’s son said to the servants, “It is the noise of the Fairies on their journey, and they are coming from the direction of Craig Rhydderch; let us stand one side of the road to make room for them to pass.” And sure enough, just as he spoke, a number of Fairies appeared on the scene and passed by as if they were on a journey. They were little men with little horses and carriages, but my informant could not tell me the colour of their dresses nor the colour of their horses

After taking their horses to the water and turning them into a field, the men went home to Penlan; and as soon as they entered the house and related what they had seen, another son of the farm had just arrived home from Aberystwyth with a horse and cart, and he also had seen the Fairies, just as he was turning to the road which led up the hill.

The above story was related to me by Mr. David Morgan, Carpenter, Llanrhystyd, who vouches for the truth of the account as he was well acquainted with the persons who saw the Fairies, and one of them was a friend of his.

There is a curious tradition that early one Easter Monday, when the parishioners of Pencarreg and Caio were met to play at football, they saw a numerous company of Fairies dancing. Being so many in number, the young men were not intimidated at all, but proceeded in a body towards the puny tribe, who perceiving them, removed to another place. The young men followed, whereupon the little folk suddenly disappeared dancing at the first place. Seeing this, the men divided and surrounded them, when they immediately became invisible, and were never more seen there. This was in Carmarthenshire.

Other places frequented by Fairies were Moyddin, between Lampeter and Llanarth, in Troed yr Aur, in Cardiganshire.

It was formerly believed in some parts of West Wales, especially by the people dwelling near the sea coast, that the Fairies visited markets and fairs, and that their presence made business very brisk. I have already referred to the “Gwerddonau Llion,” or the enchanted “Isles of the Sea,” inhabited by Fairy Tribes. These Fairies, it was believed, went to and fro between the islands and shore, through a subterranean gallery under the bottom of the sea, and regularly attended the markets at Milford Haven, in Pembrokeshire and Laugharne in Carmarthenshire. (“British [131]Goblins,” page 10.) They made their purchases without speaking, laid down their money and departed, always leaving the exact sum required, which they seemed to know, without asking the price of anything. Sometimes they were invisible, but they were often seen by sharp-eyed persons. There was one special butcher at Milford Haven upon whom the Fairies bestowed their patronage, instead of distributing their favours indiscriminately.

According to Gwynionydd in the “Brython,” for 1858, page 110, these Fairies also came to market to Cardigan, and it was thought they raised the prices of things terribly whenever they came there. In that part of the country they were known as “Plant Rhys Ddwfn.” No one saw them coming there or going away, only seen there in the market. When prices in the market happened to be high, and the corn all sold, however, much there might have been there in the morning, the poor used to say to one another on the way home, “Oh! They were there to-day,” meaning “Plant Rhys Ddwfn,” or the Fairies. These Fairies were liked by the farmers who had corn to sell, but disliked by the poor labourers who had to buy corn and give higher price for it. Gwynionydd also says that: “A certain Gruffydd Ap Einon was wont to sell them more corn than anybody else, and that he was a great friend of theirs. He was honoured by them beyond all his contemporaries by being led on a visit to their home. As they were great traders, like the Phœnicians of old, they had treasures from all countries under the sun. Gruffydd, after feasting his eyes to satiety on their wonders was led back by them loaded with presents. But before taking leave of them, he asked them how they succeeded in keeping themselves safe from invaders, as one of their number might become unfaithful, and go beyond the virtue of the herbs that formed their safety. “Oh!” replied the little old man of shrewd looks, “Just as Ireland has been blessed with a soil on which venomous reptiles cannot live, so with our land; no traitor can live here. Look at the sand on the seashore; perfect unity prevails there, and so among us.” Rhys, the father of our race, bade us even to the most distant descendant to honour our parents and ancestors; love our own wives without looking at those of our neighbours, and do our best for our children and grandchildren. And he said that if we did so, no one of us would prove unfaithful to another, or become what you call a traitor. The latter is a wholly imaginary character among us; strange pictures are drawn of him with his feet like those of an ass, with a nest of snakes in his bosom, with a head like the Devil’s, with hands somewhat like a man’s while one of them [132]holds a large knife and the family dead around him Good-bye!” When Gruffydd looked about him he lost sight of the country of Plant Rhys, and found himself near his home. He became very wealthy after this, and continued to be a great friend of Plant Rhys as long as he lived. After Gruffydd’s death they came to the market again, but such was the greed of the farmers, like Gruffydd before them, for riches, and so unreasonable were the prices they asked for their corn, that the Rhysians took offence and came no more to Cardigan to market. The old people used to think that they now went to Fishguard market, as very strange people were wont to be seen there.”

Mr. B. Davies in the II. Vol. of the “Brython,” page 182, gives the following tale of a Fairy Changeling in the neighbourhood of Newcastle Emlyn, in the Vale of Teifi, and on the borders of Carmarthenshire and Cardiganshire:—

“One calm hot day, when the sun of heaven was brilliantly shining, and the hay in the dales was being busily made by lads and lasses, and by grown-up people of both sexes, a woman in the neighbourhood of Emlyn placed her one-year-old infant in the “gader” or chair, as the cradle is called in these parts, and out she went to the field for a while, intending to return when her neighbour, an old woman overtaken by the decrepitude of eighty summers, should call to her that her Darling was crying. It was not long before she heard the old woman calling to her; she ran hurriedly, and as soon as she set foot on the kitchen floor, she took her little one in her arms as usual, saying to him, “O my little one! thy mother’s delight art thou! I would not take the world for thee, etc.” But to her surprise, he had a very old look about him, and the more the tender-hearted mother gazed at his face, the stranger it seemed to her, so that at last she placed him in the cradle and told her sorrow to her relatives and acquaintances. And after this one and the other had given his opinion, it was agreed at last that it was one of Rhys Ddwfn’s children that was in the cradle, and not her dearly loved baby. In this distress there was nothing to do but to fetch a wizard, or wise man, as fast as the fastest horse could gallop. He said, when he saw the child that he had seen his like before, and that it would be a hard job to get rid of him, though not such a very hard job this time. The shovel was made red hot in the fire by one of the Cefnarth (Cenarth) boys, and held before the child’s face; and in an instant the short little old man took to his heels, and neither he nor his like was seen afterwards from Abercuch to Aberbargod at any rate. The [133]mother found her darling unscathed the next moment. I remember also hearing that the strange child was as old as the grandfather of the one that had been lost.”—“Celtic Folk-Lore” by Sir J. Rhys.

There are many such stories in different parts of Wales and Scotland, and in both countries Fairies were believed to have a fatal admiration for lovely children, and credited with stealing them, especially unbaptized infants.

A Welsh poet thus sings:—

The Rev. Elias Owen’s translation of the above is as follows:—

Another popular mode of treatment resorted to in order to reclaim children from the Fairies, and to get rid of ugly changelings was as follows:—The mother was to carry the changeling to a river, and when at the brink, the wizard who accompanied her was to cry out:—

and the mother was to respond:—

Then the mother was to throw the changeling into the river, and then returning home, where she would find her own child safe and sound.

It was believed that the Fairies were particularly busy in exchanging children on St. John’s Eve.

One way of finding out whether children were Changelings or not was to listen to them speaking. If suspected children were heard speaking things above the understanding of children, it was considered a proof that they were changelings. This was a wide-spread belief in Wales.

Fairies did not always come to steal children, however, for they were believed in some places to enter the houses at night to dance and sing until the morning, and leave on the hearth-stone a piece of money as a reward behind them, should they find the [134]house clean; but should it be dirty, they came to punish the servant girl. The good Fairies known as “Bendith y Mamau,” were supposed to rock the infant’s cradle and sweep and clean the house whilst the tired mother slept. And one way of securing their good luck was to leave a little milk for them upon the kitchen table at night.

An old man named Evan Morris, Goginan, informed me that a farmer in the Vale of Rheidol one day found a sixpence on the top of a gate-post. On the next day he found a shilling there, and on the day after two shillings, the sum was doubled every day till the man was beginning to get rich. At last, however, the farmer told his family or his friends about his good luck, and after this he got no more money, as the Fairies were offended that he did not keep the thing secret.

The following story is to be found in Welsh in an interesting little book entitled “Ystraeon y Gwyll,” by the late Mr. D. Lledrod Davies; and in English by Sir John Rhys in his great work “Celtic Folk-Lore”:—The locality of the tale is Swyddffynon, near Ystrad Meurig, in Cardiganshire.

“It used to be related by an old woman who died some thirty years ago at the advanced age of about 100. She was Pali, mother of old Rachel Evans, who died seven or eight years ago, when she was about eighty. The latter was a curious character, who sometimes sang “Maswedd,” or rhymes of doubtful propriety, and used to take the children of the village to see fairy rings. She also used to see the “Tylwyth” (Fairies), and had many tales to tell of them. But her mother, Pali, had actually been called to attend at the confinement of one of them. The beginning of the tale is not very explicit; but, anyhow, Pali one evening found herself face to face with the Fairy lady she was to attend upon. She appeared to be the wife of one of the princes of the country. She was held in great esteem, and lived in a very grand palace. Everything there had been arranged in the most beautiful and charming fashion. The wife was in her bed with nothing about her but white, and she fared sumptuously. In due time, when the baby had been born, the midwife had all the care connected with dressing it and serving its mother. Pali could see or hear nobody in the whole place, but the mother and the baby. She had no idea who attended on them, or who prepared all the things [135]they required, for it was all done noiselessly and secretly. The mother was a charming person, of an excellent temper and easy to manage. Morning and evening, as she finished washing the baby, Pali had a certain ointment given her to rub the baby with. She was charged not to touch it, but with her hand, and especially not to put any near her eyes. This was carried out for some time, but one day, as she was dressing the baby, her eyes happened to itch, and she rubbed them with her hand. Then at once she saw a great many wonders she had not before perceived; and the whole place assumed a new aspect to her. She said nothing, and in the course of the day she saw a great deal more. Among other things, she observed small men and small women going in and out following a variety of occupations. But their movements were as light as the morning breezes. To move about was no trouble to them, and they brought things into the room with the greatest quickness. They prepared dainty food for the confined lady with the utmost order and skill, and the air of kindness and affection with which they served her was truly remarkable. In the evening, as she was dressing the baby, the midwife said to the lady, “You have had a great many visitors to-day.” To this she replied, “How do you know that? Have you been putting this ointment to your eyes?” Thereupon she jumped out of bed, and blew into her eyes, saying, “Now you will see no more.” She never afterwards could see the fairies, however much she tried, nor was the ointment entrusted to her after that day.”

There is a version of this story located in the neighbourhood of Llanuwchllyn, Merionethshire, and indeed in several other parts of Wales.

Miss Evelyn Lewes, Tyglyn Aeron, in the “Carmarthenshire Antiquities” says, “Should the dough not rise properly, but present a stringy appearance, the Cardiganshire housewife announces that “Mae bara yn robin,” and forthwith orders the sacrifice of an old slipper, presumably to propitiate the fairy folk who are inclined to play tricks with the oven.... A native of Montgomeryshire tells me that in her youth no loaf at her home was ever placed in the oven unless a cross had been previously signed upon it.”

Mrs. A. Crawley-Boevey, of Birchgrove, Crosswood, a lady who is greatly interested in Folk-Lore, informed me that it is believed in Gloucestershire that the Fairies live in Fox Gloves. [136]I have not so far discovered this belief in Wales, but Fox Glove is called in some part of the Principality Menyg y Tylwyth Teg (Fairy Gloves). Also Menyg Ellyllon (Elves Gloves).

Knockers were supposed to be a species of Fairies which haunted the mines, and underground regions, and whose province it was to indicate by knocks and other sounds, the presence of rich veins of ore. That miners in former times did really believe in the existence of such beings is quite evident from the following two letters written by Lewis Morris (great grandfather of Sir Lewis Morris the poet) in October 14th, 1754, and December 4th, 1754. They appeared in Bingley’s North Wales, Vol. II., pages 269–272:

“People who know very little of arts or sciences, or the powers of nature (which, in other words are the powers of the author of nature), will laugh at us Cardiganshire miners, who maintain the existence of “Knockers” in mines, a kind of good-natured impalpable people not to be seen, but heard, and who seem to us to work in the mines; that is to say, they are the types or forerunners of working in mines, as dreams are of some accidents, which happen to us. The barometer falls before rain, or storms. If we do not know the construction of it, we should call it a kind of dream that foretells rain; but we know it is natural, and produced by natural means, comprehended by us. Now, how are we sure, or anybody sure, but that our dreams are produced by the same natural means? There is some faint resemblance of this in the sense of hearing; the bird is killed before we hear the report of the gun. However, this is, I must speak well of the “Knockers,” for they have actually stood my good-friends, whether they are aerial beings called spirits, or whether they are a people made of matter, not to be felt by our gross bodies, as air and fire and the like. “Before the discovery of the “Esgair y Mwyn” mine, these little people, as we call them here, worked hard there day and night; and there are honest, sober people, who have heard them, and some persons who have no notion of them or of mines either; but after the discovery of the great ore they were heard no more. When I began to work at Llwyn Llwyd, they worked so fresh there for a considerable time that they frightened some young workmen out of the work. This was when we were driving levels, and before we had got any ore; but when we came to the ore, they then gave over, and I heard no more talk of them. Our old miners are no more concerned at hearing them “blasting,” boring holes, landing “deads,” etc., than if they were some of their own people; and a [137]single miner will stay in the work, in the dead of night, without any man near him, and never think of any fear of any harm they will do him. The miners have a notion that the “knockers” are of their own tribe and profession, and are a harmless people who mean well. Three or four miners together shall hear them sometimes, but if the miners stop to take notice of them, the “knockers” will also stop; but, let the miners go on at their work, suppose it is “boring,” the “knockers” will at the same time go on as brisk as can be in landing, “blasting.” or beating down the “loose,” and they are always heard a little distance from them before they come to the ore.

“These are odd assertions, but they are certainly facts, though we cannot, and do not pretend to account for them. We have now very good ore at “Llwyn Llwyd,” where the “knockers” were heard to work, but we have now yielded the place, and are no more heard. Let who will laugh, we have the greatest reason to rejoice, and thank the “knockers,” or rather God, who sends us these notices.”

The second letter is as follows:—

“I have no time to answer your objection against ‘knockers’; I have a large treatise collected on that head, and what Mr. Derham says is nothing to the purpose. If sounds of voices, whispers, blasts, working, or pumping, can be carried on a mile underground, they should always be heard in the same place, and under the same advantages, and not once in a month, a year, or two years. Just before the discovery of ore last week, three men together in our work at “Llwyn Llwyd” were ear-witnesses of “knockers,” pumping, driving a wheelbarrow, etc.; but there is no pump in the work, nor any mine within less than a mile of it, in which there are pumps constantly going. If they were these pumps that they heard, why were they never heard but that once in the space of a year? And why are they not now heard? But the pumps make so little noise that they cannot be heard in the other end of “Esgair y Mwyn” mine when they are at work. We have a dumb and deaf tailor in the neighbourhood who has a particular language of his own by signs, and by practice I can understand him and make him understand me pretty well, and I am sure I could make him learn to write, and be understood by letters very soon, for he can distinguish men already by the letters of their names. Now letters are marks to convey ideas, just after the same manner as the motion of fingers, hands, eyes, etc. If this man had really seen ore in the bottom of a sink of water in a mine and wanted to tell [138]me how to come at it, he would take two sticks like a pump, and would make the motions of a pumper at the very sink where he knew the ore was, and would make the motions of driving a wheelbarrow. And what I should infer from thence would be that I ought to take out the water and sink or drive in the place, and wheel the stuff out. By parity of reasoning, the language of “knockers,” by imitating the sound of pumping, wheeling, etc., signifies that we should take out the water and drive there. This is the opinion of all old miners, who pretend to understand the language of the “knockers.” Our agent and manager, upon the strength of this notice, goes on and expect great things. You, and everybody that is not convinced of the being of “knockers,” will laugh at these things, for they sound like dreams; so does every dark science. Can you make any illiterate man believe that it is possible to know the distance of two places by looking at them? Human knowledge is but of small extent, its bounds are within our view, we see nothing beyond these; the great universal creation contains powers, etc., that we cannot so much as guess at. May there not exist beings, and vast powers infinitely smaller than the particles of air, to whom air is as hard a body as the diamond is to us? Why not? There is neither great nor small, but by comparison. Our “knockers” are some of these powers, the guardians of mines.

“You remember the story in Selden’s Table-Talk of Sir Robert Cotton and others disputing about Moses’s shoe. Lady Cotton came in and asked, ‘Gentlemen, are you sure it is a shoe?’ So the first thing is to convince mankind that there is a set of creatures, a degree or so finer than we are, to whom we have given the name of “knockers” from the sounds we hear in our mines. This is to be done by a collection of their actions well attested, and that is what I have begun to do, and then let everyone judge for himself.”

We do not hear of “Knockers” in Cardiganshire now; in Cornwall, however, it is said that they still haunt the mines, and sometimes, with a sound of knocking and singing, they guide a lucky miner to find good ore. The “Knockers” were, it was once thought, “the Souls of the Jews who crucified our Saviour.” At least it seems that that was the belief in Cornwall. Perhaps it would be of interest to add that there were Cornishmen among the miners of Cardiganshire when Mr. Lewis Morris wrote the two letters I have just given. [139]

Mr. John Jones, Pontrhydfendigaid, who is now about 95 years of age, related to me the following tale seven years ago:—

Long ago, when much of the land where now stand the farms of Ystrad-Caron, Penylan, and Penybont, was a Common, a gentleman named Einion, and his wife, came from Abergwaun (Fishguard) and settled in the neighbourhood of Tregaron. Einion inclosed much of the land on the banks of the river Teivy in that part, and built a fine mansion which he called Ystrad-Caron, and soon became a most influential man in the neighbourhood, especially as he was well-to-do, and had generously constructed at his own expense, a bridge over the river for the convenience of the poor people of Tregaron and the surrounding districts. He also loved above everything his wife, and his harp, and was considered one of the best players on that instrument in Wales; but, unfortunately, as time went on, he failed to derive any pleasure from his surroundings and soon became subject to “melancholia,” imagining that the place was haunted by some evil genius.

At last, he was persuaded by his medical adviser to seek a change of scenery by going to stay for a while in Pembrokeshire, his native place. Soon after his arrival at Fishguard, he took a short sea voyage from that port, but after some adventures, he and others of his fellow passengers were taken prisoners by a French Man of War.

After spending many years of his lifetime inside the strong walls of a French prison, he at last succeeded to escape, and soon found his way once more to the neighbourhood of Tregaron in Cardiganshire; but to his great astonishment, as he neared his own house, Ystrad-Caron, after so many years’ absence, he heard some music and dancing.

Clothed in rags he knocked at the back door, and pretended to be a tramp. One of the maid servants took compassion on the “poor old tramp,” and allowed him to come in and warm himself near the kitchen fire.

“We are very busy here to-day,” said she to him, “our mistress who has been a widow for many years is about to get married again, and the bride and bridegroom and a party of invited guests are now in the parlour, but, unfortunately, not one of those present is able to tune the harp, a fine old instrument which belonged to the lady’s first husband who went away from home and got drowned at sea many years ago.” “Please ask [140]them to allow me to tune the harp,” said Einion to the maid. The girl then went to inform her mistress that there was an old man in the kitchen who could tune the harp for them.

Einion now entered the parlour, and to the astonishment of the bride and bridegroom and the guests, soon tuned the harp; and as soon as he began to play an old favourite tune of his:

The lady of the house recognised him at once as her husband.

Then turning to the young bridegroom to whom she was engaged to be married, addressed him thus:—“You may go now, as my husband has come home to me once more.”

A short time after my visit to Mr. J. Jones, Pontrhydfendigaid, I went to Tregaron, where I found out from Mr. Jenkin Lloyd (formerly of Pant), and others, that the story of Pont Einion (Einion Bridge) was well-known in the neighbourhood, but that Einion during the many years he was away from home, was not in prison but among the Fairies.

It seems probable that the above story is a modern local version of a tale which is to be found in the Iolo MSS. entitled:—“Einion Ap Gwalchmai and the Lady of the Greenwood,” which I introduce here for comparison:—

Einion, the son of Gwalchmai, the son of Meilir, of Treveilir in Anglesey, married Angharad, the daughter of Ednyved Vychan.

As he was one fine summer morning walking in the woods of Treveilir, he beheld a graceful slender lady of elegant growth, and delicate features; and her complexion surpassing every white and red in the morning dawn, and the mountain snow, and every beautiful colour in the blossoms of wood, field and hill. He felt in his heart an inconceivable commotion of affection, and he approached her in a courteous manner, and she also approached him in the same manner; and he saluted her, and she returned his salutation; and by these mutual salutations he perceived that his society was not disagreeable to her. He then chanced to cast his eye upon her foot, and he saw that she had hoofs instead of feet, and he became exceedingly dissatisfied. But she told him that his dissatisfaction was all in vain. “Thou must” said she, “follow me wheresoever I go, as long as I continue in my beauty, for this is the consequence of our mutual affection.”

Then he requested of her permission to go to his house to take leave of, and to say farewell to his wife, Angharad, and his son Einion. “I” said she, “shall be with thee, invisible to all but to thyself; go visit thy wife and thy son.” [141]

So he went, and the Goblin; and when he saw Angharad his wife, he saw her a hag-like one grown old, but he retained the recollection of days past, and still felt extreme affection for her, but he was not able to loose himself from the bond in which he was. “It is necessary for me” said he, “to part for a time, I know not how long from thee Angharad, and from thee my son Einion,” and they wept together, and broke a gold ring between them; he kept one half, and Angharad the other; and they took their leave of each other, and he went with the Lady of the Wood, and he knew not where; for a powerful illusion was upon him, and saw not any place, a person, or object under its true and proper appearance, excepting the half of the ring alone. And after being a long time, he knew not how long, with the Goblin, the Lady of the Wood, he looked one morning as the sun was rising upon the half of the ring, and he bethought him to place it in the most precious place he could and resolved to put it under his eyelid; and as he was endeavouring to do so, he could see a man in white apparel, and mounted on a snow-white horse, coming towards him, and that person asked him what he did there; and he told him that he was cherishing an afflicting remembrance of his wife Angharad. “Dos’t thou desire to see her,” said the man in white, “get up on this horse behind me”; and that Einion did, and looking around he could not see any appearance of the Lady of the Wood, the Goblin; excepting the track of hoofs of marvellous and monstrous size, as if journeying towards the north. “What delusion art thou under?” said the man in white. Then Einion answered him and told everything, how it occurred betwixt him and the Goblin. “Take this white staff in thy hand,” said the man in white; and Einion took it. And the man in white told him to desire whatever he wished for. The first thing he desired was to see the Lady of the Wood, for he was not yet completely delivered from the illusion. And she appeared to him in size a hideous and monstrous witch, a thousand times more repulsive of aspect than the most frightful things seen upon earth. And Einion uttered a cry from terror; and the man in white cast his cloak over Einion, and in less than a twinkling Einion alighted as he wished on the hill of Treveilir, by his own house, where he knew scarcely anyone, nor did anyone know him. After the Goblin had left Einion, the son of Gwalchmai, she went to Treveilir in the form of an honourable and powerful nobleman elegantly and sumptuously appareled, and possessed of an incalculable amount of gold and silver, and also in the prime of life, that is thirty years of age. And he placed a letter in Angharad’s hand in which it [142]was stated that Einion had died in Norway more than nine years before, and he then exhibited his gold and wealth to Angharad; and she, having in the course of time lost much of her regret, listened to his affectionate address. And the illusion fell upon her, and seeing that she should become a noble lady higher than any in Wales, she named a day for her marriage with him. And there was a great preparation of every elegant and sumptuous kind of apparel, and of meats and drinks, and of every honourable guest, and every excellence of song and string, and every preparation of banquet and festive entertainment. And when the honourable saw a particularly beautiful harp in Angharad’s room, he wished to have it played on; and the harpers present, the best in Wales, tried to put it in tune, but were not able. And when everything was made ready for to proceed to Church to be married, Einion came into the house and Angharad saw him as an old decrepit, withered, gray-haired man, stooping with age, and dressed in rags, and she asked him if he would turn the spit whilst the meat was roasting. “I will,” said he and went about the work with the white staff in his hand after the manner of a man carrying a pilgrim’s staff. And after dinner had been prepared, all the minstrels failing to put the harp in tune for Angharad, Einion got up and took it in his hand, and tuned it, and played on it the air which Angharad loved. And she marvelled exceedingly, and asked him who he was. And he answered in song and stanza thus:

And he gave her the ring.

And she could not bring him to her recollection.

Then said he to the guests:—

[143]

And upon that he placed the white staff in Angharad’s hand, and instantly the Goblin which she had hitherto seen as a handsome and honourable nobleman, appeared to her as a monster, inconceivably hideous; and fainted from fear, and Einion supported her until she revived. And when she opened her eyes, she saw there neither the Goblin, nor any of the guests, or of the minstrels, nor anything whatever except Einion, and her son and the harp, and the house in its domestic arrangement, and the dinner on the table, casting its savoury odour around. And they sat down to eat; Einion and Angharad and Einion their son; and exceeding great was the enjoyment. And they saw the illusion which the demoniacal Goblin had cast over them. And by this perchance may be seen that love of female beauty and gentleness is the greatest fascination of man; the love of honours with their vanities and riches, is the greatest fascination of woman. No man will forget his wife, unless he sets his heart on the beauty of another; nor woman her husband, unless she sets her heart on the riches and honour of lordly vaingloriousness and the pomp of pride. And thus it ends.”

Ednyved Vychan, whose name is mentioned in the beginning of the above story as Einion’s father-in-law, was Lord of Brynffenigl in Denbighshire, and flourished seven hundred years ago. He was a most powerful chieftain, and from him descended in the male line Henry VII. King of England, an ancestor to nearly all if not all the present monarchs of Europe.

It seems probable that the tradition of Mermaids is of the same origin as that of fairies.

In Campbell’s Superstitions of the Scottish Highlands, it is stated that a man in North Harris, caught a mermaid on a rock, and to procure her release, she granted him his three wishes. He became a skilful herb-doctor, who could cure the King’s evil and other diseases ordinarily incurable. This reminds us of the Fairy Lady of Llyn y Fanfach in Carmarthenshire, revealing to her sons the medical qualities of certain herbs and plants, thus enabling them to become eminent doctors.

In the Welsh tales the mermaid is described as half woman and half fish: above the waist a lovely woman, but below the waist like a fish. There are several mermaid stories on the west coast of Wales, or perhaps, different versions of the same tale.

It was believed that vengeance overtook those who showed cruelty to these beings, and there is a tradition still extant in [144]Carmarthenshire, that a man who killed one of them in the neighbourhood of Pembrey, or Kidwelly, brought a curse upon himself, his family and his descendants until the ninth generation.

In times gone by, it seems that Cardiganshire with a sea-coast of about fifty miles, was noted for its mermaids; and according to Dryton, at the Battle of Agincourt, the county had “a mermaid sitting on a rock,” as armorial bearings.

Mr. Lewis, Henbant, an old man who lives in the neighbourhood of Llanarth, Cardiganshire, told me the following tale five years ago, though I am indebted for some particulars to the Rev. D. Lewis, Vicar of Llansantffread:—In times gone by a mermaid was often seen on a rock known as Careg Ina, near New Quay. One day this sea creature became entangled in the nets of some fishermen who were out fishing some considerable distance from the land. She entreated the men to disentangle her, and allow her to return to the water. Her request was granted, and in gratitude the mermaid warned them of a coming storm, and advised them to make for the shore without delay. This they did hurriedly, and as they were nearing the land a terrific storm came on suddenly, and it was with difficulty that they managed to land safely. Other fishermen in another boat on the very same day, not having the advantage of being warned by the mermaid, were caught by the storm and met with a watery grave.

I have also discovered a version of this story at Aberporth, a seaside village some distance to the South of New Quay.

It was formerly believed that there were mermen as well as mermaids, though I have no Welsh tale of a merman.

The following tale appeared in Welsh fifty years ago in “Y Brython,” Vol. I. page 73; and the writer was the late eminent Welshman Gwynionydd, father of the present Vicar of Lledrod:—

“On a fine afternoon in September in the beginning of the last century, a fisherman named Pergrin proceeded to a recess in the rock near Pen Cemmes, (Pembrokeshire), and found there a mermaid doing her hair, and he took the water lady prisoner to his boat. We cannot imagine why the lady had not been more on her guard to avoid such a calamity; but if sea maidens are anything like land maidens, they often forget their duties when engaged in dealing with the oil of Maccassar, and making themselves [145]ready to meet the young men. We know not what language is used by sea maidens ... but this one this time at any rate, talked, it is said, very good Welsh; for when she was in despair in Pergrin’s custody weeping copiously, and with her tresses all dishevelled, she called out “Pergrin, if thou wilt let me go, I will give three shouts in the time of thy greatest need.” So, in wonder and fear he let her go to walk the streets of the deep and visit her sweethearts there. Days and weeks passed without Pergrin seeing her after this; but one hot afternoon, when the sea was pretty calm, and the fishermen had no thought of danger, behold his old acquaintance showing her head and locks, and shouting out in a loud voice: “Pergrin! Pergrin! Pergrin! take up thy nets! take up thy nets! take up thy nets!” Pergrin and his companion instantly obeyed the message, and drew their nets in with great haste. In they went, passed the bar, and by the time they had reached the Pwll Cam, the most terrible storm had overspread the sea, while he and his companion were safe on land. Twice nine others had gone out with them, but they were all drowned, without having the chance of obeying the warning of the water lady.

A version of the above story is to be found also in Carnarvonshire, North Wales.

The following tale appeared in the interesting Welsh Magazine “Seren Gomer,” for June, 1823:—

“Yn mis Gorphenaf, 1826, ffarmwr o blwyf Llanuwchaiarn, yn nghylch tair milltir o Aberystwyth, ty anedd yr hwn sydd o fewn i 300 llath o lan y mor, a aeth i wared i’r creigiau, pan yr oedd yr haul yn cyfodi ac yn pelydru yn hyfryd ar y mor, a gwelai fenyw (fel y tybiai) yn ymolchi yn y mor, o fewn i dafliad carreg ato; ar y cyntaf efe o wylder a aeth yn ei ol, ond ar adfyfyriad meddyliodd na fuasai un fenyw yn myned allan mor bell i’r mor, gan ei fod yr amser hwnw yn llifo; ac hefyd yr oedd yn sicr fod y dwfr yn chwe’ troedfedd o ddyfnder yn y fan y gwelodd hi yn sefyll. Wedi meddwl felly, efe a syrthiodd ar ei wyneb, ac a ymlusgodd yn mlaen i fin y dibyn o ba le y cafodd olwg gyflawn arni dros fwy na haner awr. Wedi edrych digon arni ei hun, efe a ymlusgodd yn ei ol, ac a redodd i alw ei deulu i weled yr olygfa ryfeddol hon; wedi dywedid wrthynt yr hyn a welsai, efe a’u cyfarwyddodd o’r drws pa fan i fyned, ac ymlusgo i ymyl y graig fel y gwnaethai efe. Aeth rhai o honynt heb ond haner gwisgo, canys yr oedd yn foreu, a hwythau ond newydd gyfodi; ac wedi dyfod i’r fan, gwelsant hi [146]dros o gylch deng mynyd, tra bu y ffarmwr yn galw ei wraig a’i blentyn ieuangaf. Pan ddaeth y wraig yn mlaen, ni syrthiodd hi i lawr, fel y gwnaethau y rhai eraill, ond cerddodd yn mlaen yn ngolwg y creadur; eithr cyn gynted ag y gwelodd y For-Forwyn hi, soddodd i’r dwfr, a nofiodd ymaith, nes oedd o gylch yr un pollder oddiwrth y tir ag y gwelsid hi ar y cyntaf; a’r holl deulu, y gwr, y wraig, a’r plant, y gweision, a’r morwynion, y rhai oeddynt oll yn ddeuddeg o rifedi, a redasant ar hyd y lan dros fwy na haner milltir, ac yn agos yr holl amser hwnw gwelent hi yn y mor, a rhai gweithiau yr oedd ei phen a’i hysgwyddau oll y tu uchaf i’r dwfr. Yr oedd carreg fawr, dros lathen o uchder yn y mor, ar ba un y safai pan welwyd hi gyntaf. Yr oedd yn sefyll allan o’r dwfr o’i chanol i fynu, a’r holl deulu a dystient ei bod yn gymwys yr un fath o ran dull a maintioli a dynes ieuanc o gylch deunaw oed. Yr oedd ei gwallt yn o fyr, ac o liw tywyll; ei gwyneb yn dra thlws; ci gwddf a’i breichiau fel arferol; ei bronau yn rhesymol, a’i chroen yn wynach nag eiddo un person a welsant erioed o’r blaen. Plygai yn fynych, fel pe buasai yn cymeryd dwfr i fynu ac yna yn dala ei llaw o flaen ei hwyneb dros oddeutu haner mynyd. Pan blygai ei hun felly, gwelid rhyw beth du, fel pe buasai cynffon fer, yn troi i fyny y tu ol iddi. Gwnaethai ryw swn yn fynych tebyg i disian, yr hwn a barai i’r graig i adseinio. Y ffarmwr, yr hwn a gafodd gyfleusdra i edrych arni dros gymaint o amser, a ddywedai na welodd ef ond ychydig iawn o wragedd mor hardd-deg yr olwg a’r For-Forwyn hon. Y mae yr holl deulu, yr ieuengaf o ba rai sydd yn un ar ddeg oed, yn awr yn fyw, a chawsom yr hanes hwn, air yn ngair, fel ei rhoddir yma, oddiwrthynt hwy eu hunain o fewn y mis diweddaf.”

I have translated the above tale as literally as possible, almost word for word, and in English it reads as follows:—

In the month of July, 1826, a farmer from the parish of Llanuwchaiarn, about three miles from Aberystwyth, whose house is within 300 feet of the seashore, descended the rock, when the sun was shining beautifully upon the sea, and he saw a woman (as he thought) washing herself in the sea within a stone’s throw of him. At first, he modestly turned back; but after a moment’s reflection thought that a woman would not go so far out into the sea, as it was flooded at the time, and he was certain that the water was six feet deep in the spot where he saw her standing. After considering the matter, he threw himself down on his face and crept on to the edge of the precipice from which place he had a good view of her for more than half-an-hour. After scrutinizing her [147]himself, he crept back to call his family to see this wonderful sight. After telling them what he had seen, he directed them from the door where to go and to creep near the rock as he had done. Some of them went when they were only half dressed, for it was early in the morning, and they had only just got up from bed. Arriving at the spot, they looked at her for about ten minutes, as the farmer was calling his wife and the younger child. When the wife came on, she did not throw herself down as the others had done, but walked on within sight of the creature; but as soon as the mermaid saw her, she dived into the water, and swam away till she was about the same distance from them as she was when she was first seen. The whole family, husband, wife, children, menservants and maid-servants, altogether twelve in number, ran along the shore for more than half-a-mile, and during most of that time, they saw her in the sea, and sometimes her head and shoulders were upwards out of the water. There was a large stone, more than a yard in height, in the sea, on which she stood when she was first seen. She was standing out of the water from her waist up, and the whole family declared that she was exactly the same as a young woman of about 18 years of age, both in shape and stature. Her hair was short, and of a dark colour; her face rather handsome, her neck and arms were like those of any ordinary woman, her breast blameless and her skin whiter than that of any person they had ever seen before. Her face was towards the shore. She bent herself down frequently, as if taking up water, and then holding her hand before her face for about half-a-minute. When she was thus bending herself, there was to be seen some black thing as if there was a tail turning up behind her. She often made some noise like sneezing, which caused the rock to echo. The farmer who had first seen her, and had had the opportunity of looking at her for some time, said that he had never seen but very few women so handsome in appearance as this mermaid.

All the family, the youngest of whom is now eleven years old, are now alive, and we obtained this account, word for word, as it is given here, from them themselves within the last month. [148]

One night Evan y Gweydd found himself speaking with a Spirit who appeared to him in the form of a gentleman outside the house. The gentleman asked him whether he would do one thing at his request. “Yes, if I can,” said Evan, in reply. “That is a promise which must be kept,” said the spirit, “and thou shalt have no peace until thou hast performed it; name the time and sooner the better.” Evan said, “three weeks to to-night.” “Very well,” said the Spirit, and off it went. Poor Evan by this began to feel very sorry for making such a promise, and when the time came round when he was to fulfil his promise, he barred the door of the house and went to bed; but he was not there long before he was thrown down on the floor, and found himself pushed out through the wide open door, unceremoniously, hardly having time to put on his clothes. After going out he saw the same gentleman as before, or rather the spirit which assumed the form of a gentleman who ordered Evan to follow him without delay to a place called Glan-ty-Bedw, where there was a very large stone, with an iron chest concealed beneath it. Then the spirit ordered him to take hold of the box and carry it and throw it into the Fanfach Lake many miles away. On Sunday morning as they passed through the village of Myddfe on their way to this lake, Evan noticed the people going to Church, some of whom he knew, but it seems that they did not see him, and his companion, or at least they did not seem to notice them. After reaching the lake and throwing in the chest, there came [150]thunder and lightning, and Evan was carried through the air in a kind of half trance. When he came to himself he found himself on the banks of the river Towy, between that river and Llansadwrn, and not far from his home. When he reached the house he went to bed, and was very ill for some time. According to some versions of the story, the spirit compelled him to throw an iron into the Cothy river near Edwinsford, as well as a chest into the Fan Lake.

In aerial journey of this kind, the spirit generally gives the mortal the choice of being transported “above wind, amid wind, or below wind.” The man who chooses to go above wind is borne to an altitude somewhat equal to that of a balloon, so high that he is in danger of being frightened to death. But choosing the below wind is quite as bad and even worse, for the hapless mortal is then dragged through bush and briar. The safest way is always to remember to select the middle course (amid wind), for this ensures a pleasant transportation at a moderate elevation equally removed from the branches and the clouds.

There was a certain man in the neighbourhood of Pontyberem, in Carmarthenshire, to whom a spirit appeared almost every night, and offered him an aerial journey of this description, giving him the choice of above wind, amid wind, or below wind, and on one occasion he was dragged by the ghost through bush and briar that his clothes were all in rags.

An old man named John Jones, who lives at Pontrhydfendigaid, informed me that a ghost which haunted a farm between Pontrhydfendigaid and Tregaron, was engaged in the dangerous game of stone-throwing to the great discomfort of the family. There are several such stories in different parts of the country.

I found the following strange tale in an old Welsh book entitled, “Golwg ar y Byd,” written by the Rev. D. Lewis, Vicar of Llangattwg, Glamorganshire, and printed at Carmarthen in 1725:

“Yn mhlwyf Llangeler, yn Sir Gaerfyrddin, Mai 21ain, 1719, y dechreuodd yspryd yr hwn a barhaodd dros hir amser, i daflu ceryg at rhai oedd yn y maes yno. Dydd Iau y Sulgwyn y dechreuwyd dyrnu, oddeutu wyth y boreu, ac y dechreuodd yntau daflu ceryg. Un o’r dyrnwyr yn gyntaf a welodd y gareg yn disgyn ar y llawr dyrnu. Yr ail gareg a ddisgynodd ar glin morwyn y ty, nes ydoedd clais arni; ac yn mhen ychydig llanwasant y llawr dyrnu [151]a’r twyn oddiamgylch, yr hyn a wnaethant wedi hyny. Y dyrnwyr a roisant heibio eu gwaith, ac a aethant i edrych pwy oedd yn eu taflu hwynt, ond ni allasent weled neb.

“Dydd Gwener,—Y forwyn, pan yn yr ardd, a darawyd dair gwaith. Tarawyd amryw o’r plant, nes iddynt fyned allan o’r ty. Daeth llawer yn nghyd i weled y rhyfeddodau hyn, ac yr oedd pawb ag oedd yn dyfod yn cael gweled y ceryg yn disgyn.

“Dydd Sadwrn,—Tarawyd y forwyn ac un o’r dyrnwyr. Yr oedd rhai ceryg yn chwyrnu, ac megys cleisiau ar amryw o honynt. Y ceryg ni welid nes byddent yn disgyn, a phan godid hwynt byddai eu hol ar y llawr, megys pe byddent yno flwyddyn o’r blaen. Daeth pawl mawr yn groes i’r ffenestr, heb neb gweledig yn dyfod ag ef. Rhai ni chredent nes danfon cenadon i weled, ac i gyrchu rhai ceryg adref i’w tai. Cyfodwyd cyff mawr o bren o’r croch i ben y ty, ac a ddisgynodd mewn man arall.

“Dydd Sul,—Daeth llawer iawn yn nghyd i weled, ac amryw o honynt yn tyngu ac yn rhegu, ac yn siarad yn gableddus ac yn ysgafn. Disgynodd ceryg mawrion ar y lloft yn y ty, ond ni welwyd hwynt nes disgynent. Tarawyd bar haiarn allan o’r ffenestr, a phlygwyd un arall fel bach ysdarn; a’r ffenestr a dorwyd yn friwion man. Wedi’r nos daeth ceryg i’r gwelyau, a chloriau’r ffenestri a aethant i’r llofft; a gorfu ar dylwyth y ty gyfodi o’u gwelyau a myned i dy cymydog. Nid oedd ond y ceryg yn llawn yn y ty ac oddiamgylch iddo.

“Nos Fercher,—Llosgwyd yr ysgubor a’r llafur, a llawer o bethau eraill; yr oedd ef bob dydd yn taflu ceryg, ond nid bob awr. Yr oedd weithiau yn taflu mor gynted ag y gellid eu rhifo, a’r rhan fwyaf o honynt yn geryg afon, a rhai o honynt yn chwech pwys neu ragor o bwysau.

“Daeth cymydogion yn nghyd un noswaith i weddio ar Dduw yn y ty, ac ni fu yno fawr o stwr y noson hono. Llawer o bethau yn rhagor a wnaeth efe, ond o’r diwedd efe a ddarfu ac a beidiodd.”

For the benefit of those who are unable to read Welsh, I give the following translation of the above account:—

In the parish of Llangeler, Carmarthenshire, May 21st., 1719, a spirit, which continued for some time, began to throw stones at those who were in the field. On Thursday in Whitsun week, at eight in the morning, the thrashing began (at a farm) and at the same time he (the spirit) began to throw stones. At first it was one of the men who were thrashing that noticed a stone descending [152]on the thrashing floor. The second stone fell on the leg of the housemaid, wounding her; and after this, very shortly, they filled the thrashing floor and the place around. The men who were thrashing gave up their work, and went to see who were throwing them, but could see no one.

Friday.—The servant maid in the garden was struck three times. Several of the children were struck till they went out of the house. A large number of people came together to see these wonders, and all who came were allowed to see the stones descending.

Saturday.—The servant maid and one of the thrashers were struck. Some of the stones were rattling, and something like marks on several of them. The stones were not seen till they fell, and when they were taken up marks of them were on the floor as if they had been there from the year before. A large pole came right across the window without any one visibly bringing it. Some people believed not, till they sent messengers to see, and to bring home some of the stones to their houses. A big stump of wood was taken up from the boiler to the house top, and fell in another place.

Sunday.—A large number of people came together to see, and several of them cursing and swearing, and speaking lightly and blasphemously. Big stones fell on the loft of the house, but were not seen till they had descended. An iron bar was struck out of the window, and another one bent as a packsaddle’s hook; and the window was broken all to pieces. After dark the stones came into the beds, and window frames went to the loft, so that the family of the house were obliged to get up from their beds and go to a neighbour’s house. Nothing but stones could be seen filling the house and surrounding it.

Wednesday Night.—The barn and the corn as well as many other things were burnt; he (the spirit) was throwing stones every day, though not every hour. Sometimes the stones were thrown as fast as one could reckon them, most of which were river stones, and some of them weighing about seven pounds or more. Neighbours came together to pray to God in the house, and there was not much noise in the house that night. Many other things were done by the spirit, but he at last ceased.

There was a troublesome ghost of this kind now recently in the Vale of Towy, Carmarthenshire.

In some of the places supposed to be haunted there are often traditions of buried treasures in connection with such spots. In [153]some of the stories the ghost haunts some particular person only, and never gives him rest till its purpose is accomplished.

Mr. Hall, in his most valuable and interesting “Book of South Wales” gives a tale of:

This man had no peace night or day, for the “White Lady” appeared to him with an agonizing expression of countenance, at unexpected times, and unexpected places. Once in a field to which there were several entrances, she appeared and opposed his exit. Trembling, he sought another, but there, too, was she. He fainted, and did not leave the field, till he was found there by persons who happened to pass. At last some considerable amount of jewels and other valuables were found by the man, in the secret drawer of an old escritoir, which he was repairing for a family that resided near. The valuables were immediately handed over to the owner of the escritoir and the “White Lady” did not appear afterwards.

Another remarkable story of this class is told in the northern part of Cardiganshire; and I found the following version of it in a “Scrap Book” of Mr. William Davies, Talybont, an eminent Folk-Lorist:—

Broginin is a farm house where the famous Welsh Bard, Dafydd Ap Gwilym was born, and situated six miles from Aberystwyth in Cardiganshire. Some years ago the respectable and industrious family who lived there at the time, were often disturbed by some unearthly being who generally made his appearance in the depth of night, as it is the case with spirits. This unwelcome visitor aroused the whole family by walking up and down the stairs, or from one room into another. Sometimes he closed the doors behind him, making such noise as to strike terror to the hearts of all in the house. At times, he lighted up the whole house at once with gleaming light, and the next moment vanished as suddenly as he came, leaving behind him utter darkness. Occasionally, the same ghost was seen by some of the servantmen, who had been out courting, walking across the farmyard in the form of a “white lady,” appearing as a tall handsome lady attired in lustring white dress, and her face covered by silken veil. This “White Lady” walked towards the young men, [154]and suddenly disappeared in a tremendous ball of fire. People were so terrified by such sights, that several families, one after another moved away from the house. One Sunday evening, however, about the beginning of winter, when all the family as usual had gone to chapel, except the servant maid, who did not feel well, her lover came to keep her company. Naturally, the young man and the young woman began to talk about the ghost, and Evan (for that was the young man’s name) laughed, and boasted what he was going to do should the disturber appear. But the next moment, without the least notice, a lady in her white dress stood right in the middle of the room, with her face uncovered, and her brown curly hair down over her shoulders. She held in one hand a comb and in the other a roll of paper, but she did not whisper a word. The servant maid, and her young man who had just been boasting shuddered in terror, and dared not move or utter a word. The “lady” walked round the apartment several times; then suddenly stood; and having opened the door through which she had entered without opening, beckoned the young man to follow her. As he dared not disobey, he followed her up stairs, into a dark back room, but which was now lighted up in some mysterious way. With her finger she pointed out a particular corner under the low roof, at which place the young man with his trembling hand found some hard parcel carefully tied in an old woollen stocking. When he opened it he found it full of money, and at the same moment the “White Lady” vanished and never disturbed the house again.

Crosswood Park, the fine residence of my esteemed young friend the Earl of Lisburne, is situated about nine miles from Aberystwyth. About two miles from the Park is a bridge over the river Ystwyth, known as Pont Llanafan (Llanafan Bridge).

This bridge is supposed to be haunted, and I have been told that a ghost has been seen there lately by a gentleman who lives in the district.

Mr. John Jones, an old man of 95, who lives at Pontrhydfendigaid, informed me that the origin of this ghost is to be traced to some former days when retired pirates lived in a house near the Bridge, and who were supposed to have hidden some treasure in the spot. Mr. Jones also gave me the following story of a farmer named Edwards, who lived in a small farm house near the bridge two or three generations ago:—The poor farmer worked very hard, [155]but for some time he was continually molested by a mischievous ghost day and night. In the evening when Edwards sat down in the corner eating his supper, which consisted of bread and milk, stones came down through the chimney, or ashes were thrown into his milk by some invisible hand. At another time the ghost was heard thrashing in the barn, or meddling with something continually. One day when the man was engaged in making a new fence round his field, the troublesome visitor from the other world kept with him all day, and threw down both the fence and the gate. Edwards at last decided to address the spirit in these word:—”Yn enw Duw, paham yr wyt yn fy aflonyddi o hyd?” which means in English, “In the name of God, why doest thou trouble me continually?” We are not told what was the reply of the spirit, but it was generally believed by the neighbours that he revealed to the farmer some hidden treasure in an old wall not far from the house. Edwards took down this wall and built a new house with the stones and greatly prospered. It was also said that he had been comparatively poor once, but ever since his conversation with the spirit, his cattle and his horses soon increased and fortune and good luck smiled on him all round. About two years ago when I related this story to a friend of mine who lives at Pontrhydfendigaid, to my great surprise, his wife informed me that the account is quite true. “Yes,” said she, “and I got £500 of the Ghost’s money.” The lady, strange to say, happened to be a descendant, or at least a near relation of the Llanafan farmer to whom the ghost revealed the hidden treasure.

Not far from the same Llanafan bridge there is a rock known as “Craig yr Ogof” (Rock of the Cave). Countess Amherst, (now Dowager) informed me that there is a tradition in the neighbourhood that the Romans buried treasures there.

Glanfread is a respectable farm house, but in former days it was a mansion of some note, situated in the North of Cardiganshire. In connection with Glanfread there is a ghost tale, and I found the best version of it in a Welsh manuscript kindly lent me by Dr. James, Lodge Park, Talybont:—

Once upon a time there lived at this house an old gentleman whose two nieces on one occasion came to spend with him their Christmas holidays at Glanfread. One evening, the two young ladies, who were sisters, and the housemaid sat down late playing cards. As they kept on playing till a very late hour, the fire was [156]going out, and they began to feel cold; so the maiden went out of the house for some firewood in order to warm themselves before retiring to bed. For some reason or other, however, she was very long in returning with the wood to put on the fire, and when she did return, she fell on the floor in a swoon, that they were obliged to carry her to bed. Next morning when they asked what had caused her to faint, she declined giving any reply; and even when her master, gun in hand, threatened to take her life unless she confessed what had happened, she still persisted in keeping all the mystery to herself. The fact of it was, the girl kept company to one of the farm servants, if not engaged, and very soon they were married, and took a very large farm—a farm which is well-known in North Cardiganshire. All their acquaintances were very greatly surprised how could a poor servant man and servant woman afford to begin farming on such a large scale, when it was known that they had but very little money to start on such an undertaking. And the general opinion was that a spirit had revealed to the servant woman some hidden treasure on the night she fainted.

There is a story in Radnorshire, that a palace not far from the neighbourhood of Abbey Cwm Hir, was once haunted by a Spirit, which appeared in various forms and made such terrible noise that no one cared to live in the house for a long time. At last, however, a young gentleman who had newly married had the courage to face the ghost, and discovered most valuable treasures which had been hidden in the ground near the house. The spot where the gold had been buried was pointed out to the young man by the Spirit, and the house was never haunted after this.

It is a well-known fact that a Spirit revealed hidden treasure to a Baptist Minister, who lived in a respectable old mansion somewhere not far from Nevern in Pembrokeshire. I met with several persons at Eglwyswrw and other places, who vouched for the truth of the fact. The treasure had been hidden, so it is said, in the time of Cromwell.

Some of the ghosts who reveal hidden money are not always generous. According to the Rev. Edmund Jones, the ghost of one Anne Dewy, a woman who had hanged herself, compelled a young man in the Vale of Towy, Carmarthenshire, to cast into the river a bag of money which had been hid in the wall of a house. Instead of keeping the money himself, the young man obeyed the ghost [157]against his better judgment, and the sum concerned was “£200 or more.”

The following ghost story is recorded in the autobiography of the grandfather of the late Mr. Thomas Wright, the eminent Shropshire antiquary:—

It had been for some time reported in the neighbourhood that a poor unmarried woman, who was a member of the Methodist Society, and had become serious under their ministry, had seen and conversed with the apparition of a gentleman, who had made a strange discovery to her. Mr. Hampson (a preacher among the Methodists about the end of the 18th century) being desirous to ascertain if there was any truth in the story, sent for the woman, and desired her to give him an exact relation of the whole affair from her own mouth, and as near the truth as she possibly could. She said she was a poor woman, who got her living by spinning hemp or line; that it was customary for the farmers and gentlemen of that neighbourhood to grow a little hemp or line in a corner of their fields for their own consumption, and as she was a good hand at spinning the materials, she used to go from house to house to inquire for work; that her method was, where they employed her, during her stay, to have meat, and drink, and lodging (if she had occasion to sleep with them), for her work, and what they pleased to give her besides. That, among other places, she happened to call one day at the Welsh Earl of Powis’s country seat, called Redcastle, to inquire for work, as she usually had done before. The quality were at this time in London, and had left the steward and his wife, with other servants, as usual, to take care of their country residence in their absence. The steward’s wife set her to work, and in the evening told her that she must stay all night with them, as they had more work for her to do next day. When bedtime arrived, two or three servants in company, with each a lighted candle in her hand, conducted her to her lodging. They led her to a ground room, with a boarded floor, and two sash windows. The room was grandly furnished, and had a genteel bed in one corner of it. They had made her a good fire, and had placed her a chair and a table before it, and a large lighted candle upon the table. They told her that was her bedroom, and that she might go to sleep when she pleased. They then wished her a good night and withdrew altogether, pulling the door quickly after them, so as to hasp the spring-snech in the brass lock that was upon it. When they were gone, she gazed awhile at the fine [158]furniture, under no small astonishment that they should put such a poor person as her in so grand a room, and bed, with all the apparatus of fire, chair, table, and a candle. She was also surprised at the circumstance of the servants coming so many together, with each of them a candle. However, after gazing about her some little time, she sat down and took a small Welsh Bible out of her pocket, which she always carried about with her, and in which she usually read a chapter—chiefly in the New Testament—before she said her prayers and went to bed. While she was reading she heard the door open, and turning her head, saw a gentleman enter in a gold-laced hat and waistcoat, and the rest of his dress corresponding therewith. I think she was very particular in describing the rest of his dress to Mr. Hampson, and he to me at the time, but I have now forgot the other particulars. He walked down by the sash-window to the corner of the room and then returned. When he came to the first window in his return (the bottom of which was nearly breast high), he rested his elbow on the bottom of the window, and the side of his face upon the palm of the hand, and stood in that leaning posture for some time, with his side partly towards her. She looked at him earnestly to see if she knew him, but, though from her frequent intercourse with them, she had a personal knowledge of all the present family, he appeared a stranger to her. She supposed afterwards that he stood in this manner to encourage her to speak; but as she did not, after some little time he walked off, pulling the door after him as the servants had done before. She began now to be much alarmed, concluding it to be an apparition, and that they had put her there on purpose. This was really the case. The room, it seems, had been disturbed for a long time, so that nobody could sleep peaceably in it, and as she passed for a very serious woman, the servants took it into their heads to put the Methodist and Spirit together, to see what they would make of it. Startled at this thought, she rose from her chair, and knelt down by the bedside to say her prayers. While she was praying he came in again, walked round the room, and came close behind her. She had it on her mind to speak, but when she attempted it she was so very much agitated that she could not utter a word. He walked out of the room again, pulling the door after him as before. She begged that God would strengthen her and not suffer her to be tried beyond what she could bear. She recovered her spirits, and thought she felt more confidence and resolution, and determined if he came in again she would speak to him. He presently came in again, walked round and came behind her as before; she turned her head and said, [159]“Pray, sir, who are you, and what do you want?” He put up his finger, and said, “Take up the candle and follow me, and I will tell you.” She got up, took up the candle, and followed him out of the room. He led her through a long boarded passage till they came to the door of another room, which he opened and went in. It was a small room, or what might be called a large closet. “As the room was small, and I believed him to be a Spirit,” she said, “I stopped at the door; he turned and said, ‘Walk in, I will not hurt you.’ So I walked in. He said, ‘Observe what I do.’ I said, ‘I will.’ He stooped, and tore up one of the boards of the floor, and there appeared under it a box with an iron handle in the lid. He said, ‘Do you see that box?’ I said, ‘Yes, I do.’ He then stepped to one side of the room, and showed me a crevice in the wall, where he said a key was hid that would open it. He said ‘This box and key must be taken out, and sent to the Earl in London’ (naming the Earl, and his place of residence in the city). He said, ‘Will you see it done?’ I said, ‘I will do my best to get it done.’ He said, ‘Do, and I will trouble the house no more.’ He then walked out of the room and left me. (He seems to have been a very civil Spirit, and to have been very careful to affright her as little as possible). I stepped to the room door and set up a shout. The steward and his wife, and the other servants came to me immediately, all clung together, with a number of lights in their hands. It seems they all had been waiting to see the issue of the interview betwixt me and the apparition. They asked me what was the matter? I told them the foregoing circumstances, and showed them the box. The steward durst not meddle with it, but his wife had more courage, and with the help of the other servants, lugged it out, and found the key.” She said by their lifting it appeared to be pretty heavy, but that she did not see it opened, and, therefore, did not know what it contained; perhaps money, or writings of consequence to the family, or both. They took it away with them, and she then went to bed and slept peaceably till the morning. It appeared afterwards that they sent the box to the Earl in London, with an account of the manner of its discovery and by whom; and the Earl sent down orders immediately to his steward to inform the poor woman who had been the occasion of this discovery, that if she would come and reside in his family, she should be comfortably provided for, for the remainder of her days; or, if she did not choose to reside constantly with them, if she would let them know when she wanted assistance, she should be liberally supplied, at his Lordship’s expense as long as he lived. And Mr. Hampson said it was a [160]known fact in the neighbourhood that she had been so supplied from his Lordship’s family from the time the affair was said to have happened, and continued to be so at the time she gave Mr. Hampson this account.

To touch or dig for buried treasures guarded by a ghost without the ghost’s consent always brings thunder and lightning. Such is the tradition in connection with “Carreg y Bwci” on the top of Craig Twrch, on the borders of Carmarthenshire and Cardiganshire.

Many of the tales displaying the motive, on the ghost’s part of a duty to perform—sometimes clearly defining, sometimes vaguely suggesting it, as in the story of Noe.

The evening was far gone when a traveller of the name of Noe arrived at an Inn in Pembrokeshire, and called for refreshments. After remaining sometime he remarked that he must proceed on his journey. ‘Surely,’ said the astonished landlord, ‘You will not travel at night for it is said that a ghost haunts that road,’ crying out, ‘The days are long and the nights are cold to wait for Noe. O, I am the man sought for,’ said he, and immediately departed; but, strange to say, neither Noe nor the ghost was ever heard of afterwards.

An old woman in Pembrokeshire informed me that the scene of the above tale was a house in the neighbourhood of Letterston.

Another story of this class appeared in an interesting little Welsh book entitled “Ysten Sioned,” published by Hughes and Son, Wrexham.

There was a farmhouse in a certain part of West Wales, in which a large and respectable family lived. But there was one room in the house haunted by a troublesome spirit which often cried out in a mournful voice, “Hir yw’r dydd, a hir yw’r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn” (long is the day, and long is the night, and long is waiting for Arawn). Things went on in this manner for a long time, and not one hardly ventured to open the door of that room. But one cold winter evening when every member of the family sat around the fire, before supper, somebody called at the door of the house, and a stranger was welcomed in to warm himself by the fire. The stranger asked for some food and a bed for the night. He was told he was welcomed of food, but that they were sorry they could not offer him a bed, as all the beds were hardly enough for themselves, and that the only spare bed-room in the house was haunted. Then the stranger begged to be allowed to sleep in that room, as he felt sure that there was nothing to do him harm there. The man appeared very tired, and spoke [161]but little except in reply to questions, and when it was found out that his name was “Arawn,” all the family looked into each’s face in great surprise. The stranger presently went to bed in the haunted room, and strange to say everything was quiet in that room that night, that is, no spirit was heard as usual crying and moving things about. When the family got up next morning, the first thing was to find out what kind of night the stranger passed in the haunted room, but to the surprise of all the man was gone, and the ghost was also gone, for the room was never haunted afterwards.

Good many people in Wales who laugh at the idea of a ghost, readily admit the possibility of the appearance of a living man’s spirit (Yspryd Dyn Byw).

An old lady named Miss Pergrin, who lives at Pontshan, Llandyssul, informed me about five years ago, that when she was a little girl of about eleven years of age, a certain man who lived in that neighbourhood had gone from home, for some months, and just about the time when he was expected to return the little girl was one day walking along the road near the village, about two o’clock in the afternoon. She suddenly met the man coming home. He was coming along the road towards her, and looked at her, and then suddenly disappeared through a gate into an adjoining field. She was very much surprised, as the man was not expected home till next day. The next moment two sisters of the man appeared on the scene, and the girl informed them that she had just seen their brother, and inquired whether they had met him as they passed along the same road about the same time. But they in reply positively affirmed that they had seen no sight of him on the road or anywhere else since he left home, and that the girl must have been dreaming or inventing some idle tale, for their brother was not returning home till to-morrow. About 2 p.m., the next day, the man did come home, and, strange to say, it was found out that the day Miss Pergrin had seen him, he was far away from the district, so it was concluded that she had seen his spirit, and that in broad daylight. Miss Pergrin did not like to give the man’s name.

A woman named Mrs. M. Davies, who lives in the small village of Llanybri, in Carmarthenshire, informed me that her [162]mother when a young woman, was going home one evening to Llanybri, on a moonlight night. As she walked along, to her great surprise, she saw an old woman known in the neighbourhood as Rachel Y Gweydd, or the weaver, sitting by the roadside and busily engaged in knitting a stocking. The young woman ran home as fast as she could and told her mother what she had seen. “Och y fi” said her mother, “something strange is sure to take place after this.” Within a few days a man named Thomas Davies, of Cwmllan-wybryn, died, and was buried at the Capel Newydd. As the funeral procession passed along, there was Rachel Y Gweydd sitting by the roadside, and knitting her stocking at the very same spot where her spirit had been seen by the young woman on the moon-light night. The old woman had gone to sit by the roadside in order to watch the funeral procession passing.

A sister of the above Mrs. Davies, Mrs. Weekes, of Llangynog, also gave me the following account of her mother’s experience of seeing “Yspryd dyn byw.”

Mrs. Weekes’s mother, when a young girl, living with her parents near Llanybri, Carmarthen, went out one evening to fetch some water from a well close by, and she saw, as she thought, Thomas of Felin Gwm standing near the hedge. “Thomas?” says she, “what do you want here?” The man vanished into nothing all at once, and so she perceived that it was his spirit she had seen. Thomas was in love with her, but she had refused to have anything to do with him.

The following tale appeared in “Welsh Folk-Lore,” page 296 by the late Rev. Elias Owen, F.S.A., who had obtained the story from the Rev. Philip Edwards:—

“At Swyddffynnon, in Cardiganshire, there lived a Mrs. Evans, who had a strange vision. Mr. Edwards’s father called one evening upon Mrs. Evans, and found her sitting by the fire in company with a few female friends, greatly depressed. On enquiring as to the cause of her distress, she stated that she had had a strange sight that very evening.

“She saw, she said, in the unoccupied chamber at the further end of the house, a light, and, whilst she was wondering what light it was, she observed a tall, dark, stranger gentleman, who had a long, full beard, enter the house and go straight to the [163]room where the light was, but before going in he took off his hat and placed it on the table; then he took off his gloves and threw them into the hat, and without uttering a single word he entered the lit-up room.

“Shortly afterwards, she saw the stranger emerge from the room and leave the house, and on looking again towards the room she saw that the light had disappeared. It was, she said, this apparition that had disconcerted her.

“Some time after this vision, Mrs. Evans was in a critical state, and as she lived far away from a doctor, my informant’s father was requested to ride to Aberystwyth for one. He found, however, that the two doctors who then resided in that town were from home. But he was informed at the inn that there was a London doctor staying at Hafod. He determined, whether he could or could not, induce this gentleman to accompany him to Swyddffynnon, to go there. This gentleman, on hearing the urgency of the case, consented to visit the sick woman.

“Mr. Edwards and the doctor rode rapidly to their destination, and Mr. Edwards was surprised to find that the doctor did everything exactly as it had been stated by Mrs. Evans. There was also a light in the chamber, for there the neighbour had placed the still-born child, and it was the providential help of the London doctor that saved Mrs. Evans’s life.

“I may add that the personal appearance of this gentleman corresponded with the description given of him by Mrs. Evans.”

I heard the following story in the neighbourhood of Llanddewi, about my own grandfather, the late Mr. John Evans, of Gogoyan, who died about fifty-five years ago. (The “Hiriaid Gogoyan” were descended from Gruffydd Hir o Llanfair, great-great-grandson of Gwaethfoed); so saith Gwynionydd, in his book on “Enwogion Ceredigion.” But now for the story:—

Mr. Evans one day had gone to Aberystwyth, either riding or driving as this was in the days before the introduction of railways into that part, the distance was over twenty miles.

Early in the afternoon on the same day one of his servants who was ploughing in the field, saw Mr. Evans walking about quite close to him in the field.

The servant was quite surprised at this, as he knew that his master had gone to Aberystwyth early in the morning. When the master came home that night from Aberystwyth, the servant told him that he had seen him in the afternoon in the field. [164]

“Well,” said Evans in reply, “if you saw me you only saw my spirit, for I have been away all day; now to see the spirit of a living man is not a bad sign.”

It is rather curious that a story very similar to the above is given by Mr. T. Lloyd, Dinas Powis, in “Cymru Fu” (“Weekly Mail” reprints) for November 16th, 1889, which is as follows:—

“Many years ago at a farm called Ystradteilo, near the pretty village of Llanrhystyd in Cardiganshire, the servant girl was sent to the field to fetch home the cows for milking, and while in the field she saw her master doing something there. The master’s name was Williams, and he was a near relation to the eminent scholar Rev. E. Williams, M.A., of Lampeter. When, however, the servant girl returned home, she was astonished to find her master in the house. ‘How in the world did you come home so quick?’ she asked. ‘Just now I saw you in the field.’ He replied that he had not been from the house during the afternoon, and added, ‘look here, girl, that was not a bad sign at all but if you will see me like that after my departure you may depend that I shall be in a place of torture.’ It was a general belief that of the dead the ghosts of the wicked only were to be seen.”

Mr. Thomas Stephens, an intelligent old man in the neighbourhood of Mydroilyn, in the Parish of Llanarth, Cardiganshire, informed me that between 60 and 70 years ago his father, John Stephens, when a young man, was coming home late one evening after spending a few hours of pleasant time with the young woman of his affection at a neighbouring farm. As he was walking along a lonely lane, to his great surprise, he heard the sound of some one throwing stones about in a field which he was passing by. When he looked around, he beheld the spirit of a man of his acquaintance who was well and alive, throwing stones with all his might in a field where stones were not to be found.

Spirit of a living man was sometimes heard without being seen, of this I was informed by an old man at Llanddewi Brefi.

In some ghost stories we find the spirits of the departed appearing to comfort the living.

A very old man named Thomas Ticker, who lives at the small village of Llanybri, gave me the following remarkable account:— [165]

Many years ago when one William Thomas, Pengelly Isaf, Llangynog, was a little boy of ten or twelve years of age, his mother died. One day the boy in great sorrow went out into a field which was quite close to the house, and wept bitterly, almost breaking his heart. Suddenly, the spirit of his dead mother appeared to him in a white dress, telling him not to cry, “because” saith she, “your crying gives me pain, and you need not be in trouble about the future, as there is plenty of food for thee.” The child was on the ground when she spoke, and when he looked up he beheld his mother vanishing suddenly.

This W. Thomas who saw his mother’s spirit, died when a comparatively young man, but his son, from whom my informant obtained the account of the vision, lived till eighty years of age, and died about sixty years ago.

About ninety years ago one Mrs. D. Thomas, Llanfair, Llandyssul, had a daughter who was very promising, and her mother was so fond of her. She was sent to the well-known school of the celebrated Mr. Davis of Castell Howell. Unfortunately, however, the girl died, to the great sorrow of her poor mother who bewailed her loss day and night. But one day when the old lady was out in the potato field, the spirit of her dead daughter appeared suddenly to her, and spoke to her mother with severe looks: “Don’t cry after me, for I am in a much better place.” The above account I heard from the lips of Mr. Rees, Maesymeillion, parish of Llandyssul, about three years ago, to whom and his brother I am indebted for several other stories.

The following story was related to me by Mr. Brutus Davies, who died at Aberystwyth about two years ago, and who vouched for the truth of the account:—

About seventy years ago a certain man who was working on the Estate of Col. —— in the parish of Llangeler, Carmarthenshire, had buried his first wife and had married again. He had several children from his first wife, but not one from the second. One particular day, the children went out to play as they often did. When they came to a certain spot which served them as a playground, they found some small cakes on the ground, which were very tempting to children; but just as they were [166]going to eat them, the spirit of their dead mother appeared on the scene and addressed them as follows:—“My dear children, don’t eat those cakes, for there is poison in them!” When this strange occurrence became known in the neighbourhood, people suspected the step-mother of having intentionally and secretly placed the cakes on the children’s playground.

Sometimes we hear of the appearance of the ghost of a child, especially if a baby has been ill-treated or murdered, and the following story is well-known in the Northern part of Cardiganshire.

About sixty years ago, the dead body of a little baby was found in a hole or an old mine shaft, known till the present day as “Shaft y plentyn” (the child’s shaft), and as the people of the neighbourhood of Talybont guessed who its mother was, there was a rumour that both she and her family were haunted by the child’s ghost. This ghost also, it is said, wandered about at night, and its bitter crying disturbed the whole neighbourhood, till many timid people were afraid to go out after dark. My informant was the late J. Jones, Bristol House.

There is a similar story of a child’s ghost in the parish of Troedyraur, South Cardiganshire. This spirit always appeared as a child dressed in yellow clothes, and on that account the unearthly visitor was known as “Bwci Melyn Bach y Cwm.”

It was an old belief among the Welsh people in former times that the spirit of a suicide was doomed to walk the earth as a punishment. Several versions of the well-known Kidwely Legend have already appeared, but a book of West Wales Folk-Lore would be incomplete without it.

Sir Elidir Ddu was a Lord of Kidwely. He had two sons, Griffith and Rhys, and one beautiful daughter named Nest.

The Crusades had been proclaimed, and this Elidir Ddu was preparing to depart, and accompanied by his youngest son Rhys; but the eldest son Griffith and Nest, the only daughter, remained at home in Kidwely Castle, as well as another fair young lady whose name was Gwladys, a niece of Sir Elidir, and cousin to Nest. Nest was in love with a handsome young Norman named Sir Walter Mansel, her cousin Gwladys also was in love with him, but the young man was true to Nest. Griffith loved Gwladys, but she did not like him as she wanted Sir Walter Mansel. This [167]complicated matters very much. Nest’s father before he had left to the Holy Land, had forbidden the young Norman the house, and now the young lady’s brother, Griffith, guarded the place against him; but the sanguine lover (Sir W. M.) found means of meeting the fair Nest in the country round, and many stolen interviews were held. But the jealous Gwladys watched Nest, and found out her place of meeting with her lover, which was Pont-y-Gwendraeth, and she informed Griffith of it. Griffith was in love with Gwladys, but she had snubbed him hopelessly. Now, however, in order to use him as an accomplice in her revenge, she flattered his hopes with feigned kindness, and wrought him up to such a pitch of fury against the Norman, that he agreed to join her to destroy the young lover by fixing upon a bad fellow called Merig Maneg to carry out the evil deed. The next trysting place of the lovers was, by some means ascertained to be a bridge over the tidal portion of the Gwendraeth, and as Sir W. came forward to greet his lady-love an arrow whistled from a reed bed and pierced his side. The villain Merig, then rushed from his hiding place, and before the very eyes of Nest, hurled Walter’s body into the rushing tide. The young lady overcome with horror, gave a wild shriek of despair and plunged in after the hapless knight. After this, the villain Merig was haunted by Nest’s spirit, and on one occasion, she told him that her spirit was doomed to walk the earth as a punishment for her suicide unless a marriage should take place between one of her father’s descendants and a member of the Mansel family, and that until that did occur she would appear on Pont-y-Gwendraeth to give warning of the approaching death of every member of the family. From that day the Bridge became known as Pont-yr-yspryd-gwyn, and for generations a white lady occasionally appeared, giving utterance to a wild unearthly shriek and vanish.

Mr. Charles Wilkins in his “Tales and Sketches of Wales,” gives the following sequel to the story:—

In 1775, Mr. Rhys, a lineal descendant of Rhys Ddu, of Kidwely Castle, a magistrate, was returning one evening from Quarter Sessions when he was startled by seeing a white figure flit rapidly across the Bridge, and disappear over it into the water. His horse trembled and refused to go on. Mr. Rhys thought of the Ghost Story and prediction, and riding towards Kidwely, noticed a large crowd and heard that a shocking murder had been committed upon a poor old woman. He entered the cottage and discovered a small portion of a man’s coat sleeve lying upon the [168]bed. By inquiry, found it belonged to “Will Maneg.” Will was arrested, confessed, and was hanged on Pembrey mountain, while as still further to strengthen the prediction, Mr. Rhys was informed that day of the death of his brother Arthur of the R.N., who was drowned at sea; and also of his wife’s mother’s death, Lady Mansel, of Iscoed, who was burnt to death at Kidwely.

Mr. Innes, in “Old Llanelly,” page 145, says:—

“The ghost of Lady Mansel ‘walked’ and haunted Old Stradey House,” and “Llanelly House probably had had ghosts for it is certain that spirits may be found there even now; and an old man has recently made a statement that when a boy he slept in the Stepney Mansion; but as he ascended to his room he heard the rustling brocade of a lady’s dress in an apparently empty corridor.

“This lady during the night played upon an organ built up in one of the thick walls.”

An old man named Griffiths, who is 96 years of age, and lives at ’Renallt Farm, near Carmarthen, gave me the following ghost story concerning his own father.

William Griffiths (my informant’s father), when a young man, nearly a hundred years ago, was engaged as a servant at a farm called Pontiauar, in the Parish of Llanpumpsaint. William had been out late one night to see the young woman of his affection, and having enjoyed the pleasure of love for some hours, he returned home about three o’clock in the morning. He had some miles to go through a lonely district, and worse than that he had to pass the Haunted Red Gate of Glynadda, a place famous for its ghosts in former times.

On he walked as fast as he could, but to his great terror, when he came to the Red Gate the ghost appeared in the shape of a big man. William passed on and ran, but the Ghost followed him all the way to the village of Llanpumpsaint, till the young man was terrified almost to death. When he arrived at the house of Dafydd Llwyd, the Blacksmith (who worked even at that early hour), he entered the house or the Blacksmith’s shop, and fell down near the fire half-fainting, and they had to take him home to the farmhouse in a cart. [169]

Sometimes we hear of ghosts at sea, and the following account of a Ghost on board H.M.S. “Asp,” which was written by Capt. Alldridge, R.N., Commander of that vessel, appeared in the “Pembroke County Guardian,” February 16th, 1901.

March 15th, 1867.

My dear Sir,—I herewith readily comply with your request as far as I am able, respecting the unaccountable “apparition” on board my ship. Call it ghost or what you will, still I assure you that which I am going to relate is what really did take place, and much as I was, and am, a sceptic in ghost stories, I must confess myself completely at a loss to account by natural causes for that which did actually occur. Many years having elapsed since I retired from active service I am unable to recollect all the dates with exactness, but I will give them as far as I can remember them.

In the year 1850, the “Asp” was given me by the Admiralty as a surveying vessel. On taking possession of her, the Superintendent of the Dockyard, where she lay, remarked to me, “Do you know, Sir, your ship is said to be haunted, and I don’t know if you will get any of the Dockyard men to work on her.” I, of course, smiled, and I said “I don’t care for ghosts, and dare say I shall get her all to lights fast enough.”

I engaged the shipwrights to do the necessary repairs to the vessel, but before they had been working in her a week they came to me in a body and begged me to give the vessel up as she was haunted and could never bring anything but ill-luck. However, the vessel was at length repaired, and arrived in safety in the river Dee, where she was to commence her labours. After my tea in the evening, I generally sat in my cabin and either read to myself or had an officer of mine (who is now master of the ‘Magician’) to read aloud to me: on such occasions we used frequently to be interrupted by strange noises, often such as would be caused by a drunken man or a person staggering about, which appeared to issue from the after (or ladies’) cabin.

The two cabins were only separated from each other by the companion ladder, the doors faced each other, so that from my cabin I could see into the after one. There was no communication between either of them and the other parts of the ship, excepting by the companion ladder, which no one could ascend or descend without being seen from my cabin. The evening shortly after our arrival in the Dee, the officer I mentioned was reading to me in my cabin when all at once his voice was drowned by a violent [170]and prolonged noise in the aft cabin. Thinking it must be the steward he called out “Don’t make such a noise, steward,” and the noise ceased. When he began to read again the noise also recommenced. “What are you doing, steward—making such a—noise for?” he cried out, and taking the candle rushes into the next cabin. But he came back quicker than he went, saying there was nobody there.

He recommenced reading, and once more began the mysterious noise. I felt sure there was some drunken person there whom my officer had overlooked, and accordingly rose and looked myself, and to my very disagreeable surprise found the cabin empty!

After this evening, the noises became very frequent, varying in kind and in degree. Sometimes it was as though the seats and lockers were being banged about, sometimes it sounded as though decanters and tumblers were being clashed together. During these disturbances the vessel was lying more than a mile off shore.

One evening I and the above-named officer went to drink tea at a friend’s house at Queen’s Ferry, near Chester, the vessel at the time being lashed to the lower stage opposite Church’s Quay. We returned on board together about 10 p.m. While descending the companion ladder, I distinctly heard someone rush from the after cabin into the fore cabin. I stopped the officer who was behind me at the top of the ladder and whispered to him, “Stand still, I think I have caught the ghost.” I then descended into my cabin, took my sword, which always hung over my bed, and placed it drawn in his hand saying “Now ——, allow no one to pass you; if anyone attempts to escape cut him down, I will stand the consequences. T then returned to the cabin, struck a light and searched everywhere, but nothing could I find to account for the noises I had heard, though I declare solemnly that never did I feel more certain of anything in my life than that I should find a man there. So there was nothing to be done but to repeat for the hundredth time, “Well, it is the ghost again!” Often when lying in my bed at night have I heard noises close to me as though my drawers were being opened and shut, the top of my washing stand raised and banged down again, and a bed which stood on the opposite side of my cabin, pulled about; while of an evening I often heard while sitting in my cabin a noise as though a percussion cap were snapped close to my head; also very often (and I say it with godly and reverential fear) I have been sensible of the presence of something invisible about me, and could have put my hand, so to say, on it, or the [171]spot where I felt it was; and all this occurred, strange to say, without my feeling in the least alarmed or caring about it, except so far that I could not understand or account for what I felt and heard.

One night, when the vessel was at anchor in Martyn Roads I was awoke by the quartermaster calling me and begging me to come on deck as the look-out man had rushed to the lower deck, saying that a figure of a lady was standing on the paddle box pointing with her finger to Heaven. Feeling angry, I told him to send the look-out man on deck again and keep him there till daybreak, but in attempting to carry my orders into execution the man went into violent convulsions, and the result was I had to go myself upon deck and remain there till morning.

This apparition was often seen after this, and always as described with her finger pointing towards Heaven.

One Sunday afternoon while lying in the Haverfordwest river opposite to Lawrenny, the crew being all on shore, and I being at church, my steward (the only man on board) whilst descending the companion ladder was spoken to by an unseen voice. He immediately fell down with fright, and I found his appearance so altered that I really scarcely knew him! He begged to be allowed his discharge and to be landed as soon as possible, to which I felt obliged to consent as he could not be persuaded to remain on board for the night. The story of the ship being haunted becoming known on shore, the clergyman of Lawrenny called on me one day and begged me to allow him to question the crew, which he accordingly did. He seemed very much impressed by what he heard; he seemed to view the matter in a serious light and said that his opinion was that “some troubled spirit must be lingering about the vessel.”

During the years that I commanded the “Asp” I lost many of my men who ran away on being refused their discharge, and a great many others I felt forced to let go, so great was their fear, one and all telling me the same tale, namely, that at night they saw the transparent figure of a lady pointing with her finger up to Heaven. For many years I endeavoured to ridicule the affair as I was often put to considerable inconvenience by the loss of hands, but to no purpose. I believe that when the officers went out of the vessel after dark none of the crew would have ventured into the cabin on any account. One night I was awoke from my sleep by a hand, to all sensations, being placed on my leg outside the bedclothes. I lay still for a moment to satisfy myself of the truth of what I felt, and then grabbed at it, but caught nothing. I [172]rang my bell for the quartermaster to come with his lantern, but found nothing. This occurred to me several times, but on one occasion as I lay wide awake a hand was placed on my forehead. If ever a man’s hair stood on end mine did then. I sprang clean out of bed: there was not a sound. Until then I had never felt the least fear of the ghost or whatever you like to call it. In fact I had taken a kind of pleasure in listening to the various noises as I lay in bed, and sometimes when the noises were very loud I would suddenly pull my bell for the look-out man and then listen attentively if I could hear the sound of a footstep or attempt to escape, but there never was any, and I would hear the look-out man walk from his post to my cabin when I would merely ask him some questions as to the wind and weather. At length in 1857, the vessel requiring repairs, was ordered alongside the dockyard wall at Pembroke. The first night the sentry stationed near the ship saw (as he afterwards declared) a lady mount the paddle box holding up her hand towards Heaven. She then stepped on shore and came along the path towards him when he brought his musket to the charge “who goes there?” But the figure walked through the musket, upon which he dropped it and ran for the guard house. The next sentry saw all this take place and fired off his gun to alarm the guard. The figure then glided past a third sentry who was placed near the ruins of Pater old Church, and who watched her, or it, mount the top of a grave in the old churchyard, point with her finger to Heaven, and then stand till she vanished from his sight. The sergeant of the guard came with rank and file to learn the tale, and the fright of the sentries all along the Dockyard wall was so great that none would remain at their post unless they were doubled, which they were, as may be seen by the “Report of guard” for that night. Singularly enough, since that, the ghost has never been heard of again on board the Asp, and I never heard the noises which before had so incessantly annoyed me. The only clue I could ever find to account for my vessel being haunted is as follows:—Some years previously to my having her, the “Asp” had been engaged as a mail packet between Port Patrick and Donaghadee. After one of her trips, the passengers having all disembarked, the stewardess on going into the ladies’ cabin found a beautiful girl with her throat cut lying in one of the sleeping berths quite dead! How she came by her death no one could tell and, though, of course, strict investigations were commenced, neither who she was or where she came from or anything about her was ever discovered. The circumstances gave rise to much talk, and the vessel was [173]remanded by the authorities, and she was not again used until handed over to me for surveying service. Here end my tale, which I have given in all truth. Much as I know one gets laughed at for believing in ghost stories you are welcome to make what use you please with this true account of the apparition on board the “Asp.”

Rhosmeherin, in the neighbourhood of Ystrad Meurig, in Cardiganshire, was formerly well known for its ghost. An old man named John Jones, who lives at Pontrhydfendigaid, informed me that when a boy he heard of many belated persons who were terrified in passing the haunted spot by seeing a ghost which appeared sometimes in the shape of a cat, at other times as a man on horseback.

Mr. Jones also added that a poor old woman had been murdered there in the old times, which was supposed to account for the spot being haunted. I have heard several ghost stories in connection with this spot, but the best is the one which appeared in an interesting Welsh book entitled, “Ystraeon y Gwyll,” written by the late Mr. D. Lledrod Davies, a promising young man, and a candidate for Holy Orders, who died 20 years ago. Mr. Davies obtained the story from a person who had seen the ghost; so I give a translation of the Belated’s own words:—

“I was going home one evening from my work from Ros y Wlad, and had to go through Rhosmeherin. “That place, you know is a terrible spot for its ghosts. People say that they are seen there in broad daylight. As to myself I did not see them in the daytime, but many a time was I kept there all night by Jack-a-Lantern.

I saw a ghost in the form of a cat there also, and when I began to strike him he disappeared in a blazing fire. But now for the gentleman. I was near the spot where I had seen the cat, when I heard the sound of a horse coming after me. I jumped one side to make room for him to pass; but when he came opposite me he did not go forward a single pace faster than myself. When I went on slowly, he went slowly; when I went fast, he went fast. “Good night,” said I at last, but no answer. Then I said it was a very fine night, but the gentleman on horseback did not seem to take any notice of what I said. Then thinking that he might be an Englishman (the man was speaking in Welsh), I said in English “Good night,” but he took no notice of me still.

By this I was beginning to perspire and almost ready to fall down with fright, hoping to get rid of him, as I now perceived that [174]he was the Devil himself appearing in the form of a gentleman. I could think from the sound of the saddle and the shining stirrups that the saddle was a new one. On we went along the dark narrow lane till we came to the turnpike road, when it became a little lighter, which gave me courage to turn my eyes to see what kind of a man he was. The horse looked like a soldier’s horse, a splendid one, and his feet like the feet of a calf, without any shoes under them, and the feet of the gentleman in the stirrups were also like the feet of a calf. My courage failed me to look what his head and body were like. On we went till we came to the cross-road. I had heard many a time that a ghost leaves everybody there. Well, to the cross road we came. But ah! I heard the sound of the ground as if it were going to rend, and the heavens going to fall upon my head; and in this sound I lost sight of him (the Spirit). How he went away I know not, nor the direction he went.”

Sometimes we hear of haunted caves, where spirits are said to be seen or heard. One of such places is the Green Bridge Cave, near Pendine, Carmarthenshire.

There is a story in the neighbourhood that long ago an old fiddler entered once into this cave with his fiddle and a lighted candle to see his way, and that his candle went out when he was in, so that he failed to find his way out of the cave again. He is heard there sometimes, so it is said, playing his fiddle.

Near Llandyssul, in Cardiganshire, and the borders of Carmarthenshire, there is a pool in the River Teivi, known as the “Pool of the Harper.” When I visited the village a few years ago I was told that it is said that an old harper was drowned there long ago; and that it is still believed by some that on a fine summer afternoon, one hears his spirit playing his harp in the pool.

It is not, often we hear in Wales of Good Spirits appearing; but the Rev. Edmund Jones in his “Relation of Apparitions,” a curious old book published some generations ago, gives the following narrative of Apparitions of Good Spirits:—

——“There lived at a place called Pante, which is between Carmarthen and Laugharne towns, one Mr. David Thomas, a holy man, who worship the Lord with great devotion and humility; he was also a gifted brother, and sometimes preached. On a [175]certain night, for the sake of privacy, he went into a room which was out of the house, but nearly adjoining to it, in order to read and pray; and as he was at prayer, and very highly taken up into a heavenly frame, the room was suddenly enlightened, and to that degree that the light of the candle was swallowed up by a greater light, and became invisible; and with, or in that light a company of Spirits, like children, in bright clothing, appeared very beautiful, and sung; but he recollected only a few words of it, ‘Pa hyd? Pa hyd? Dychwelwch feibion Adda’ (How long? How long? Return ye sons of Adam.) Something like Ps. xc. 3. After a time he lost sight of them: the light of the candle again came to appear, when the great light of the glorious company was gone. He was immersed in the heavenly disposition, and he fell down to thank and praise the Lord; and while he was at this heavenly exercise the room enlightened again; the light of the candle became invisible, and the glorious company sung; but he was so amazed at what he saw and heard that he could remember only the following words, ‘Pa hyd? Pa hyd yr erlidiwch?’ (How long? How long, will ye persecute the godly Christians?)

“After a while, they departed, and the candle light appeared. Any Christian who enjoyed much of God’s presence will easily believe that D. T. was now lifted up very high in the spiritual life by this extraordinary visitation from heaven.”

There are several legends in West and Mid-Wales, especially in Carmarthenshire and Cardiganshire, in which spirits or some other mysterious powers, play a prominent part in the removal of Churches from one site to another.

I am indebted for the following to the Rev. H. M. Williams, Vicar of Lledrod:—

There is a tradition in the parish of Llanddeusant, that the parish church was to have been built at first at Twynllanan, in the centre of the parish; but the stones that were put up during the day were removed in the night, to the spot where the church now stands.

The Rev. Professor Tyrrell Green, St. David’s College, Lampeter, writes to me thus:—

“Jonathan Williams in his History of Radnorshire, p. 194, ed., 1859, says that near Llanbister Church is a piece of land on [176]which it was originally intended to have erected the Church, but tradition reports that the accomplishment of this design was prevented by the intervention of supernatural agency. “The tradition that a supernatural being carried away in the night whatever was built of the church during the day, is still kept alive, because the warden claims an annual rent of 2s. 6d. for the vacant and unconsecrated site of the originally intended church.” In the same book mention is made of an old custom prevailing in this parish, viz., the payment of a certain tax or tribute called “Clwt-y-Gyllell,” or Knife Money, imposed on a certain corner of a field on some estates, consisting of a certain number of groats.

For the following legend, I am indebted to Mr. Prys Williams, Y. Wenallt, an eminent antiquarian in the southern part of Cardiganshire:—

The intended original site of the Church of Penbryn, according to tradition, was Penlon Moch, near Sarnau, where now stands St. John’s Mission Church; but all the materials they brought there, and built in the course of the day, were removed during the night by invisible hands to where it now stands. There is a similar tradition concerning Bettws Ifan.

When the attempt was first made to build this church, everything put up in the day fell down in the night, till at last the builder threw his hammer into the air.

The church was then built on the spot where the hammer fell and the work progressed without further hindrance.

In this story we do not hear of a spirit removing the material, but it is evident that it was believed that the falling down in the night of what was put up in the day, was caused by some supernatural agency.

In the middle of the parish there is a field called Park y Fonwent, where, according to local tradition, the church was to have been originally built, but the stones brought to the spot during the day, were removed by invisible hands during the night to the spot where the present church now stands, accompanied by a voice saying, “Llangan, dyma’r fan,” (Llangan, here is the spot).—See Arch. Cam., 1872. [177]

Not far from Pendine, Carmarthenshire, is a field called Church Park, a short distance to the west from the church. In this field it was intended at first to build the church, but invisible spirits during the night removed both stones and mortar to the spot where the church now stands. There is also a tradition that two giants were buried in the field.

Llangeler parish is in Carmarthenshire, and on the borders of Cardiganshire. There is a tradition in the district that it was at first intended to build Llangeler Church on a spot known as “Parc-y-Bwci,” but what had been built during the day, was transported in the night to the site of the present church. There is no mention here that the agency was a spirit; but the name of the spot is very suggestive, for Parc-y-Bwci means the Goblin’s Park.

The parish church of Llanfihangel Geneu’r Glyn, is situated about five miles north of Aberystwyth, and it is seen from the train. About a mile from the church and the village, there is a respectable farm house, named Glanfread, or Glanfread-fawr which belongs to the Gogerddan Estate. It is evident that Glanfread was a place of importance once, and long ago gentry lived there, and it was the birthplace of Edward Llwyd, the author of Archæoligia Britanica. It is also believed that the house received its name from St. Fraed, a devout woman who, according to local tradition, came over from Ireland to build a church on the spot.

There is a legend still extant in the neighbourhood that when the work of erecting the church on the spot was actually commenced, the portion built during the day was pulled down during each night. At last a voice from the spirit world was heard to speak as follows:—

What the spirit meant by these words was that the church was to be built at Genau’r Glyn, and that Glanfread-fawr farm or mansion was to occupy the spot they were then trying to build the church; and in accordance with the Spirit’s direction the church was after this built where it now stands instead of at Glanfread.

The above tradition was related to me by Lady Hills-Johnes, of Dolaucothy, an intelligent lady who has been a friend to me for [178]nearly twenty years. The late Bishop Thirwall wanted Lady Hills-Johnes to write a book on the Legends of Wales.

Llanfihangel, of course, is the Welsh for St. Michael, or rather Michael’s Church; but as the early Welsh Christians generally dedicated their churches to Welsh Saints, it seems probable that the ancient name of this church was Llanfread; and the name of the farm Glanfread, where it was first intended to build the church seems to suggest this. Perhaps the church was re-dedicated to St. Michael by the Normans, for we know that William the Conqueror seized some lands in the neighbourhood, and that particular part of the parish is known to this day as “Cyfoeth y Brenin,” (the King’s wealth).

St. Michael was a favourite patron of churches with the Normans, as it was believed that an apparition of the Archangel had been seen by Aubert, Bishop of Avranches, directing him to build a church on Mount St. Michael in Normandy.

From a paper read before the Cardiganshire Antiquarian Society, by the Rev. J. Morris, Vicar of Llanybyther, I find that there is a tradition still extant that Llanwenog Church was also removed by supernatural agency from one site to another.

These popular legends are, undoubtedly, very old, and are current not only in Wales, but in parts of Scotland also as the following from Sir Walter Scott’s Notes to the Lay of the Last Minstrel prove:

——“When the workmen were engaged in erecting the ancient church of Old Deer, in Aberdeenshire, upon a small hill called Bissau they were surprised to find that the work was impeded by supernatural obstacles. At length the Spirit of the River was heard to say:

“The site of the edifice was accordingly transferred to Taptillery, an eminence at some distance from where the building had been commenced.”

As to the origin of these legends or traditions of the mysterious removal of churches, it is not easy to arrive at a correct explanation. Some writers are of the opinion that they contain a record, imaginative and exaggerated, of real incidents connected with the history of the churches to which each of them belongs, and that they are in most cases reminiscences of an older church which once [179]actually stood on another site. Others see in these stories traces of the antagonism, in remote times, between peoples holding different religious beliefs, and the steps taken by one party to seize and appropriate the sacred spots of the other.

That some of these tales have had their origin in primitive times, even anterior to Christianity, is probable.

In many of the Welsh Ghost Stories, the spirit or ghost was supposed to have been none other than the evil one himself.

The visible appearance of his satanic majesty was quite as common in Wales as in other countries, though, strange to say, he is often depicted as an inferior in cunning and intellect to a shrewd old woman, or a bright-witted Welshman, as the following two curious stories show:—

The Devil’s Bridge in the northern part of Cardiganshire is so called from the tradition that it was erected by him upon the condition that the first thing that passed over it should be his. The story which is well-known is something as follows:

An old woman called Megan Llandunach had lost her cow, and espied the animal across the gorge. When bewailing her fate, the Devil appeared and promised to build her a bridge over the gorge under the condition that the first living thing which crossed should be surrendered into his hand, “and be beyond redemption lost.” Megan agreed, the bridge was completed; she took from her pocket a crust of bread and threw it over the bridge, and her hungry dog sprang after it. So the Devil was balked in his design after all his trouble in erecting the bridge.

Once upon a time the devil was offended with the people of Pentre-Cwrt, in Carmarthenshire, and decided to drown them. One day in order to do this mischief the Evil One was seen going along with a big shovelful of mound; and when he came to the parish of Llandyssul in Cardiganshire, which was only about two miles from Pentre-Cwrt, he met with a cobbler who carried a very large bundle of old shoes. After saluting the devil the cobbler asked him to where did he intend taking the shovelful of mound? “To the mouth of Alltcafan,” was the reply. “For what purpose?” asked the cobbler again. “To dam the River Teivy so as [180]to drown the people of Pentre-Cwrt,” said the devil. Now the cobbler was a very shrewd man, and in order to frustrate the evil design of the Old Gentleman, he told him that the place where he intended to dam the river was very far away. “How far is it?” asked the devil. “I cannot tell you the exact distance,” replied the cobbler, “but in walking from there I have worn out all these shoes.” “If that is so,” said the devil, “it is too far, for I am already tired,” and down did he throw the shovelful of mould, and the shovelful which the devil threw down is to be seen to this day, and known as Cnwc Coedfoel.—See Hanes Plwyf Llangeler, gan D. Jones.

DEVIL’S BRIDGE.

Sometimes the devil manifests himself in a ball of fire, at other times in the form of a pig, mouse, calf, dog, or headless horse, and even as a gentleman on horseback, as we have already seen in the Rhosmeherin ghost story. [181]

When I was in North Pembrokeshire a few years ago, I was told by several old people in the village of Eglwyswrw that the Evil One sometimes was to be seen at Yet Wen in that neighbourhood; occasionally as a “white lady,” but more often as a white cat.

The people of the same village informed me that Yet Wen, Pen’rallt, was also a favourite resort of the devil, and that a woman once in passing the spot at night, shouted “Come out you d——l,” and the next moment a white cat appeared.

Nags Head, in the same county was once haunted by the devil, as it seems from the following story of long ago:—

“As Mr. David Walter, of Pembrokeshire, a religious man, and far from fear and superstition, was travelling by himself through a field called the Cot Moor, where there are two stones set up called the Devil’s Nags, which are said to be haunted, he was suddenly seized and thrown over a hedge. He went there another day, taking with him for protection a strong fighting mastiff dog. When he had come near the Devil’s Nags there appeared in his path the apparition of a dog more terrible than any he had ever seen. In vain he tried to set his mastiff on; the huge beast crouched, frightened by his master’s feet and refused to attack the spectre. Whereupon his master boldly stooped to pick up a stone thinking that would frighten the evil dog; but suddenly a circle of fire surrounded it, which lighting up the gloom, showed the white snip down to the dog’s nose, and his grinning teeth, and white tail. He then knew it was one of the infernal dogs of hell.”

A black calf was supposed to haunt a stream that flowed across the road that leads from Narberth in Pembrokeshire to the adjacent village Cold Blow. People returning late that way were sure to get frightened as they passed and, as a consequence, they would go a long distance out of their way to avoid the haunted stream. One night, or rather early morning, two villagers were going home from a fair caught the terrible calf and took it home, locking it up safely with some cattle, but it had vanished when morning came.

Rhosygarth, between Llanilar and Lledrod, was a well-known haunted spot in former times. This demon often appeared on [182]the road to travellers late at night in the form of a calf, but with a head much like that of a dog. Many years ago, Mr. Hughes, of Pantyddafad, was going home one night on horseback; but just as he was passing Rhosygarth, the ghost appeared, and passed across the road right in front of the horse. My informant, Thomas Jones, Pontrhydfendigaid, was a servant at Pantyddafad, heard the old gentleman often speaking about the ghost he had seen at Rhosygarth, and that Mr. Hughes was great-grand-father to Dr. Hughes, of Cwitycadno, Llanilar. Mr. Jones also added that he knew a young man who always laughed when people talked about seeing ghosts; but one night, a man (as he at first thought), followed him for about a mile, and after coming close to him, vanished into nothing. The young man nearly fainted, and after this never doubted the reality of the world of spirits.

Sir John Williams, Bart, now of Aberystwyth, informed me that when a boy in the neighbourhood of Gwynfi, Carmarthenshire, he often heard some of the old people speak of a ghost which haunted the road in that part of the country in former times. This ghost was known as “Bwci,” and always assumed the form of a horse. It is an old belief of the Celts that demons assumed the form of horses, and one of these mythic beings was the Water Horse, so well-known in North Scotland. It was also known in Wales once.

The Gwyllgi was a frightful apparition of a mastiff with baleful breath and blazing red eyes. In former times, an apparition in this shape haunted Pant y Madog, in the neighbourhood of Laugharne, Carmarthenshire. A woman named Rebecca Adams, passing this spot late one night, fell down in a swoon, when she saw the spectral dog coming towards her. When within a few yards of her it stopped, squatted on its hounchers, “and set up such a scream, so loud, so horrible, and so strong, that she thought the earth moved under her.” I was informed at Llangynog five years ago, that Spectral Dogs still haunt that part of Carmarthenshire; and more than one of my informants had seen such apparitions themselves.

A spirit in animal form was not always a demon; sometimes the Spirit of a mortal was doomed to wear this shape for some offence. [183]

It was once believed that the Evil One, either from lust, or from nefarious designs, assumed the form of a young man or a young woman.

The following two stories, the first from South Pembrokeshire, and the other from Gower, have reference to this belief.

Giraldus Cambrensis in his Itinerary through Wales (Bohn’s edition, page 110) says:—

“In the province of Pembrock (Pembroke), another instance occurred, about the same time, of a spirit’s appearing in the house of Elidore de Stakepole, not only sensibly, but visibly, under the form of a red-haired young man, who called himself Simon. First seizing the keys from the person to whom they were entrusted, he impudently assumed the steward’s office, which he managed so prudently and providently, that all things seemed to abound under his care, and there was no deficiency in the house. Whatever the master or mistress secretly thought of having for their daily use or provision, he procured with wonderful agility, and without any previous directions, saying, “You wished that to be done, and it shall be done for you.” He was also well acquainted with their treasures and secret hoards, and sometimes upbraided them on that account; for as often as they seemed to act sparingly and avariciously, he used to say, “Why are you afraid to spend that heap of gold or silver, since your lives are of so short duration, and the money you so cautiously hoard up will never do you any service?” He gave the choicest meat and drink to the rustics and hired servants, saying that “Those persons should be abundantly supplied, by whose labours they were acquired.” Whatever he determined should be done, whether pleasing or displeasing to his master or mistress (for, as we have said before, he knew all their secrets), he completed in his usual expeditious manner, without their consent. He never went to church or uttered one catholic word. He did not sleep in the house, but was ready at his office in the morning. He was at length observed by some of the family to hold his nightly converse near a mill and a pool of water; upon which discovery, he was summoned the next morning before the master of the house and his lady, and, receiving his discharge, delivered up the keys, which he had held for upwards of forty days. Being earnestly interrogated, at his departure who he was? he answered, “That he was begotten upon the wife of a rustic in that parish, by a demon, in the shape of her husband, naming the man, and his father-in-law, then dead, and his mother, [184]still alive; the truth of which the woman upon examination, openly avowed.”

For the following tale I am indebted to Mr. T. C. Evans (Cadrawd) the eminent antiquarian and folk-lorist of Llangynwyd:

“Once upon a time there lived a fair and gentle maiden in the neighbourhood of the Demon’s Rock, who often wandered out in the sunset and balmy summer evenings to meet her lover, and would return with her countenance radiant with joy, and the bright light of inexpressible rapture beaming in her love-lighted eye. Evening after evening would she stray out alone to the trysting place to meet her lover, and seemed as happy as a bird that warbles its morning song when the early sun gladdens the earth. However, it chanced that one of her companions followed her one moonlight night—saw the maiden go to a widespreading oak, and heard the whispering soft and low. She was surprised that she could not observe anyone, neither could she hear any reply to the maiden’s sweet and loving voice. Affrighted, she hastened back and said that a mysterious dread had crept over her while listening and watching her companion; they kept it secret, but questioned the maiden on her return. She said that her lover was a gentleman, and that she had promised to meet him the next evening in the same spot. The next evening they followed her again and saw her addressing the empty air—they felt assured now that it must be the Spirit of Darkness that was tempting the girl. Her companions warned her and told her how she had been watched, and that they could not see who or whom she spoke to.

“She became alarmed, but yet could not refrain from meeting her lover, (as she supposed), once again, as she had made a vow and bound herself by a solemn promise to meet him in this valley in the dead hour of the night. She was also bound to go alone. It was a fearful trial. The night came, the moon hid itself, and dark clouds swept hurriedly across the sky. With blanched cheeks and trembling steps the maiden approached the appointed place. She held (firmly grasped) in her hand a Bible, and as the traitor approached, a straggling gleam of moonshine revealed his form; and oh! horrible to relate, she saw the cloven hoof! With one long piercing cry for protection from heaven she fled; at the same instant the valley was filled with wild unearthly shrieks. The roar of the deafening thunder shook the hills to their foundations; wild and blinding lightnings, together with yells and howls from the legions of baffled fiends rushed by on the startled air. [185]

“The bewildered whirlwinds dashed through the woodlands, snapping the oaks of a century like fragile reeds, or hurling them like feathers down into the brook—now a boiling torrent that swept all before it. In the morning a strange scene of devastation presented itself, and the woods seemed crumbled up; the valley was a chaotic mass of confusion, while in the centre of the hamlet was this huge stone which they say the vengeful demon tore from its firm bed on the hillside, and flung at the flying maiden as she evaded his grasp. It remains in the spot where it was cast, and is known as the Demon’s Rock.”

There is also a story all over Wales of the Evil One appearing to a young man as a lovely young lady.

The late Rev. Elias Owen, “Welsh Folk-Lore,” page 152, Vicar of Llanyblodwel, received the following tale from his deceased friend, the Rev. J. L. Davies, late Rector of Llangynog, who had obtained it from William Davies, the man who figures in the story:—

“William Davies, Penrhiw, near Aberystwyth, went to England for the harvest, and after having worked there about three weeks, he returned home alone, with all possible haste, as he knew that his father-in-law’s fields were by this time ripe for the sickle. He, however, failed to accomplish the journey before Sunday; but he determined to travel on Sunday, and thus reached home on Sunday night to be ready to commence reaping on Monday morning. His conscience, though, would not allow him to be at rest, but he endeavoured to silence its twittings by saying to himself that he had with him no clothes to go to a place of worship. He stealthily, therefore, walked on, feeling very guilty every step he took, and dreading to meet anyone going to Chapel or Church. By Sunday evening he had reached the hill overlooking Llanfihangel-y-Creuddyn, where he was known, so he determined not to enter the village until after the people had gone to their respective places of worship; he therefore sat down on the hill side and contemplated the scene below.

“He saw the people leave their houses for the House of God, he heard their songs of praise, and now he thinks he could venture to descend and pass through the village unobserved. Luckily, no one saw him going through the village, and now he has entered a barley field, and although still uneasy in mind, he feels somewhat [186]reassured, and steps on quickly. He had not proceeded far in the barley field before he found himself surrounded by a large number of small pigs. He was not much struck by this, though he thought it strange that so many pigs should be allowed to wander about on the Sabbath Day. The pigs, however, came up to him, grunted and scampered away. Before he had traversed the barley field he saw approaching him an innumerable number of mice, and these, too, surrounded him, only, however, to stare at him, and then disappear. By this Davies began to be frightened, and he was almost sorry that he had broken the Sabbath Day by travelling with his pack on his back instead of keeping the day holy. He was not now very far from home, and this thought gave him courage and on he went. He had not proceeded any great distance from the spot where the mice had appeared when he saw a large grey-hound walking before him on the pathway. He anxiously watched the dog, but suddenly it vanished out of sight.

“By this, the poor man was thoroughly frightened, and many and truly sincere were his regrets that he had broken the Sabbath; but on he went. He passed through the village of Llanilar without any further fright. He had now gone about three miles from Llanfihangel along the road that goes to Aberystwyth, and he had begun to dispel the fear that had seized him, but to his horror he saw something approach him that made his hair stand on end. He could not at first make it out, but he soon clearly saw that it was a horse that was madly dashing towards him. He had only just time to step on to the ditch, when, horrible to relate, a headless white horse rushed passed him.

“His limbs shook and the perspiration stood out like beads on bis forehead. This terrible spectre he saw when close to Tan’rallt, but he dared not turn into the house, as he was travelling on Sunday, so on he went again, and heartily did he wish himself at home. In fear and dread he proceeded on his journey towards Penrhiw. The most direct way from Tan’rallt to Penrhiw was a pathway through the fields, and Davies took this pathway, and now he was in sight of his home, and he hastened towards the boundary fence between Tan’rallt and Penrhiw. He knew that there was a gap in the hedge that he could get through, and for this gap he aimed; he reached it, but further progress was impossible, for in the gap was a lady lying at full length, and immovable, and stopping up the gap entirely. Poor Davies was now more terrified than ever. He sprang aside, he screamed and then fainted right away. As soon as he recovered consciousness, he, on his knees, and in a loud [187]supplicating voice, prayed for pardon. His mother and father-in-law heard him, and the mother knew the voice and said, “It is my Will! some mishap has overtaken him.” They went to him and found he was so weak that he could not move, and they were obliged to carry him home, where he recounted to them his marvellous experience. The late Rector of Llangynog, who was intimately acquainted with William Davies, had many conversations with him about his Sunday journey, and he argued the matter with him, and tried to persuade him that he had seen nothing, but that it was his imagination working on a nervous temperament that had created all his fantasies. He, however, failed to convince him, for Davies affirmed that it was no hallucination, but that what he had seen that Sunday was a punishment for his having broken the Fourth Commandment.

“Davies ever afterwards was a strict observer of the Sabbath.”

A writer in the Arch. Cam., 1850, page 73, says:—

In the Churchyard of Llanarth, near Aberaeron, on the South side of the Church, there is an inscribed stone (not hitherto published) of the twelfth century. It bears a cross covering the stone with four circular holes at the junction of the arms. The inscription is on the lower limb of the cross; but as it is made of a micaceous sandstone, part has been split off, and the inscription is much mutilated.... The current tradition of the place concerning it is, that one stormy night, some centuries ago, there was such a tremendous shindy going on up in the belfry that the whole village was put in commotion. It was conjectured that nobody but a certain ancient personage could be the cause of this, and, therefore, they fetched up his reverence from the vicarage to go and request the intruder to be off. Up went the vicar with bell, book and candle, along the narrow winding staircase, and, sure enough, right up aloft among the bells there was his majesty in person! No sooner, however, had the worthy priest began the usual ‘conjurate in nomine, etc.’ than away went the enemy up the remaining part of the staircase on to the leads of the tower. The Vicar, nothing daunted, followed, and pressed the intruder so briskly that the latter had nothing else to do than to leap over the battlements. He came down plump among the gravestones below; and, falling upon one, made with his hands and knees the four holes now visible on the stone in question.

Another writer in “Y Brython” for 1859, says, that the Devil’s purpose in troubling Llanarth Church was to rob it of one [188]of its bells and carry it to Llanbadarn Fawr Church, near Aberystwyth, twenty miles distant, as the latter, though once a cathedral, had only two bells, whilst the former, only a parish church, had four. And an old story still lingers in the neighbourhood of Llanarth that the Devil whilst thus engaged in carrying the bell, put it down and rested and re-arranged his heavy load at the very commencement of his journey, and a particular spot between the church and the river on a road known as “Rhiw Cyrff,” is pointed out as the place where the D——l put down the bell. Moreover, it is added that from that day forth, the sound of Llanarth bells cannot be heard from that spot, though it is only a few yards from the church tower.

The Llanarth legend is the only story in Wales that I know of in which the Spirit of darkness carries a church bell, as it was believed in old times that the Evil One was afraid of bells, and fled away at the sound of them.

There are, however, traditions of churches troubled by the Devil in other parts of Wales besides Llanarth, and in the old superstitious times the north door of a church was called “Devil’s Door.”

It was thought that as the priest entered the church through the south door, the Evil Spirit was obliged to make his exit through the north door.

It might also be added that in former times no one was buried on the north side of a churchyard, as it was known as the “Domain of Demons.”

In some parts, especially on the borders of Cardiganshire and Carmarthenshire, it is believed that any one carrying a knife in his hands, will never see or be troubled by a spirit, even when passing a haunted spot in the depth of night.

When staying for a short time in the parish of Llandyssul about five years ago, I was told that there lived a few years ago a certain man in the village of Pontshan in that parish, who, when coming home late one night, saw a ghost on the roadside whilst passing a well-known haunted spot in the neighbourhood. The man took out his knife from his pocket, and the ghost vanished. After this, whenever he passed a haunted place the man held a knife in his hand, and never saw a ghost again. In South Pembrokeshire, a V-shaped twig of the mountain ash was considered a protective against spirits. [189]

It was also believed once in all parts of Wales that to wear body-linen inside out, and to nail a horseshoe against the door kept away both evil spirits and witches. Even in the present day people all over the world think that there is some “good luck” in finding a horseshoe, and to a young girl it means a new lover.

When a spirit troubled a house in Wales, it was sometimes customary to call together the most godly persons in the parish to hold a prayer-meeting; at other times a conjurer, or a priest was sent for, for it was formerly thought that a clergyman had the power to “lay” or exorcise spirits. There were particular forms of exorcising. When the Devil was in the belfry of Llanarth Church, Cardiganshire, the Vicar went to drive away the Evil One, with “Bell, Book, and Candle.”

Until the time of Henry VIII., it seems that it was customary to curse mortals, as well as to exorcise fiends “with bell, book and candle”; for in an old book called “Dugdale’s Baronage,” published in 1675, it is said that in the 37th. year of Henry III., “a Curse was denounced in Westminster Hall against the violation of Magna Charta, with bell, book and candle.”

And in Fox’s account of the ceremony of excommunication, we are told that three candles were carried before the clergy, and that as each candle was extinguished prayer was made that the souls of malefactors and schismatics might be “given over utterly to the power of the fiend as this candle is now quenched and put out.”

Penpompren Plas is a small mansion near Talybont in North Cardiganshire. The late Mr. John Jones, Bristol House, informed me that there was a spirit there once troubling the family, and the servants, and especially the head servant who had no peace as the ghost followed the poor man everywhere whenever he went out at night, and often threw water into his face. At last the servant went to a wise man or a conjurer. The Conjurer came with him to Penpompren Plas to “lay” the Spirit, and transformed it into an insect, in a bottle, which was securely corked. Then the bottle was thrown under the river bridge close by.

There are many such stories in different parts of the country; and it is said that under the Monument Arch of Old Haverfordwest Bridge in Pembrokeshire, a spirit has been laid for a thousand years, and that at the expiration of that time it will again be free to roam the earth to trouble people.

About 60 years ago, a spirit which appeared in all forms, pig, mouse, hare, etc., at Alltisaf, Llanfynydd, in Carmarthenshire, [190]was “laid” by the celebrated wizard, Harries, of Cwrtycadno. I was told of this by two old men in the village of Llanfynydd about five years ago.

Havod Uchtryd is a large mansion a few miles from Devil’s Bridge, in Cardiganshire, and there is a tradition in the neighbourhood that in the time of the celebrated Colonel Johnes about the beginning of the last century the place was haunted by a mischievous goblin. Fortunately, however, there happened to be a wizard nor far off, and the squire, so it is said, sent for him to Havod to lay the ghost. The conjurer came and when he arrived at the spot where the haunting usually took place he surrounded himself with an enchanted circle which the spirit could not break through. Then he opened a book and went through various incantations to invoke the spirit, which presented himself in various forms; first it appeared as a bull, secondly as a bulldog; and at last as a fly which rested on the wizard’s open book. In an instant the enchanter closed the book, and thus caught the evil one in a trap, and was only allowed to go out under the conditions that he should betake himself to the Devil’s Bridge, and there with an ounce hammer and tintack cut off a fathom of the rock. But notwithstanding this “laying” of the spirit one hundred years ago, there is a rumour still throughout the whole North of Cardiganshire, that Hafod is still haunted.

About 70 or 80 years ago, Monachty, a fine mansion in the neighbourhood of Aberaeron, was rumoured to be haunted. My informant is an old man named James Jones, Golden Lion, Llanarth. Jones said that when he was a boy at Pantycefn, he often felt almost too terrified to go to bed, as it was reported that the Monachty ghost was so small that it could go through even the eye of a needle; and his father’s humble cottage was not without holes especially the window of his bedroom.

At last, however, Students from Ystrad Meurig College were sent for to Monachdy to lay the ghost, which they did, so Jones said, and they doomed the unearthly being to cut a rock near Llanrhystyd, which proves that students, as well as Clergymen and ministers, had the reputation of being able to lay spirits.

Stackpole Court, the beautiful residence of the distinguished Earl of Cawdor, is famous for its legendary lore. “Seven hundred [191]years ago, Giraldus Cambrensis tells the story of Sir Elidur de Stackpole’s demon steward, whose name was Simon; and in the more modern times the neighbourhood was haunted by the spirit of an old lady. This ghost appeared in the form of a party consisting of two headless horses, a headless coachman and a headless lady in her carriage.

At last the ghost was “laid” by the Parson of St. Patrox, who doomed it to empty a pond with a cockle shell for a ladle, so that the phantom is not seen now.

There are several versions of this ghost story, and Col. Lambton, of Brownslade, who is much interested in Folk-Lore and Antiquities, informed me that the headless lady was known as “Lady Mathias.”

The idea of giving employment to a spirit is most ancient, and in Grecian and Roman Mythology we find that the Danaides, or the fifty daughters of Danaus, who all, except one, slew their husbands on their wedding night, were doomed in Tartarus to draw water in sieves from a well until they had filled a vessel full of holes.

It seems from the following story, which I obtained from the Rev. J. Jones, Brynmeherin, near Ystrad Meurig, that a ghost will not follow one through water:—

About 35 years ago, there lived at Ynysfach, near Ystrad Meurig, an old man and an old woman known as “Shon and Shan.”

Shon was working in North Wales, for he was a quarryman at the time, but he came home occasionally to spend his holidays with his wife, especially about Christmas time.

On one occasion, however, when Shan expected her husband home the day before Christmas as usual, Shon came not. Nine o’clock in the evening she went out to meet him or to search for him and to prevent him spending his money on beer at a public house which his friend, a saddler kept at Tyngraig. But her husband was not at the public house, nor was he seen anywhere, so the old woman had to return home in disappointment. It was a cloudless moonlight night, almost as light as day, but the road was lonely and the hour late, and when she had walked some distance, to her great terror, she noticed a ghost in the field making his way nearer and nearer to her till at last the strange object came to the hedge on the roadside quite close to her. Frightened as she was, she struck the ghost with the strong walking-stick which she held in her hand, saying “D——l! thou shalt follow me no longer.” [192]

When Shan struck the ghost her walking-stick went right through the head of the strange object, but she did not “feel” that it touched anything—It was like striking a fog; but the spirit vanished into nothing, and Shan walked on. The ghost was now invisible, but the old woman “felt” that it still followed her, though she could not see it; but when she was crossing a brook she became aware that her pursuer left her.

Two young women, daughters of a farmer in the parish of Llandyssul, were walking home one night from Lampeter Fair. After reaching the very field in one corner of which the house in which they lived stood, they wandered about this field for hours before they could find the building, though it was a fine moonlight night.

It seemed as if the farm house had vanished; and they informed me that they were convinced that this was the doings of the Goblin, who played them a trick.

The Welsh word for Goblin is Ellyll.

With the exception of Corpse Candle, the most prominent death portent in West and Mid-Wales is the “Toili” or spirit funeral; a kind of shadowy funeral which foretold the real one. In the very north of Cardiganshire, such apparition is known as “teulu” (family); but throughout all other parts of the county it is called “toili.” Toili, or Toeli is also rather general in Carmarthenshire; in North Pembrokeshire, however, it is called “Crefishgyn.”

There are tales of phantom funerals all over the Diocese of St. David’s, and the following account of a Twentieth Century Phantom Funeral in Pembrokeshire is interesting, as my informant himself was the man who witnessed the strange apparition, or a foreshadowing of a funeral which actually took place soon afterwards.

A young man who lives in the Gwaun Valley, between Pontfaen and Fishguard informed me in the beginning of November, 1905, that he had just seen a phantom or a spirit funeral only a few weeks previously.

A friend of his, a young porter at a Railway Station in the neighbourhood of Cardiff, had come home ill to his native place in Pembrokeshire, and his friend, my informant, one night sat up by his bedside all night. About three o’clock in the morning the patient was so seriously ill that my informant in alarm hurried to call the father of the poor sufferer to come to see him, as the old man lived in a small cottage close by. As soon as he went out through the door into the open air, to his great astonishment he found himself in a large crowd of people, and there was a coffin resting on some chairs, ready to be placed on the bier; and the whole scene, as it were, presented a funeral procession, ready to convey the dead to the grave. When the young man attempted to proceed on his way, the procession also proceeded, or moved on [194]in the same direction, so that he found himself still in the crowd. After going on in this manner for about a hundred yards, he managed to draw one side from the crowd and soon reached the house of his sick friend’s father, and nearly fainted. Three days after this vision the seer’s friend died; and on the day of the funeral the young man noticed that the crowd stood in front of the house and the coffin resting on chairs exactly as he had seen in the apparition. I may add that my informant who had seen the phantom funeral was so terrified even at the time when I saw him, that he was too much afraid to go out at night. It so happened that I was staying in that part of Pembrokeshire at the time, so I went to see the man myself, and a clergyman accompanied me.

AN APPARITION!

I obtained the following account of a phantom funeral from the Rev. John Phillips, Vicar of Llancynfelyn, North Cardiganshire. The scene of the story was Cilcwm, Carmarthenshire:—

Though more than thirty years have run their course since the incident which is to be described here occurred, still the impression which it left on the writer’s mind was so vivid and lasting that he finds not the slightest difficulty in recalling its minutest details at the present moment. Some experiences are so impressive that time itself seems powerless to efface them from the memory, and of such the following appears to be an instance:—

It happened in the early Spring, just when the days were perceptibly lengthening, and a balmy feeling was creeping into the [195]air, and a glad sense of hope was throbbing throughout the whole of nature. A boy of ten, or may be a couple of years younger, tired out after a hard day of play and pleasure, sat resting on a log near a lonely house, in a sparsely populated district. As he sat, he gazed down a long stretch of white and dusty road leading away past the house. As a rule, few and far between would be the travellers who used that unfrequented road. The sole exception would be on a Sunday, when perhaps a dozen or more of the neighbours might be seen wending their way, to or from the nearest place of worship. Intense, therefore, was the boy’s surprise, when on this week-day, his eyes discerned a goodly company turning the corner in the distance, and proceeding in an orderly procession along the stretch of straight road which his vantage ground commanded. He watched it keenly, and wondered greatly. Never had he before seen such a crowd on that particular road. As the people drew nearer and nearer, something of solemnity in their orderly and silent manner struck on the watcher’s imagination, but no sense of anything akin to the supernatural obsessed his mind for a second, still he failed not to mark, that for so large an assemblage, it was remarkably noiseless. Twenty yards, more or less, from where the youthful watcher sat, a footpath leading over a piece of wet and barren land joined the road. This path, which could be traversed only in dry weather, terminated half a mile away, at the door of a solitary cottage inhabited by a farm hand named Williams, who dwelt there with his wife and several young children. When the crowd arrived at the spot where the path ran on to the road, there seemed to be a momentary hesitation, and then the procession left the road and took to the footpath. The watcher strained every nerve, in an effort to recognise some one or other in the crowd, but though there was something strangely familiar about it all, there was also something so dim and shadowy, as to preclude the possibility of knowing anyone with certainty; but as the tail end of the procession curved round to gain the path, something he did observe, which caused a thrill, for the last four men carried high on their shoulders a bier,—but it was an empty bier. Soon as the multitude was out of sight, the boy rushed to the house, and related his curious experience. No thought of anything weird and uncanny had so far crossed his mind, and his one desire at the time was to gain some information as to where the people were bound for. Neither could he just then understand the manifest consternation, and the hushed awe, which fell upon his hearers as he unfolded his tale. Amongst these there happened to be a visitor, an old dame of a class well known in many parts [196]of rural Wales in those days. It was her habit to stroll from farm to farm along the country side, regaling the housewives with the latest gossip. In return she would be sure of a meal, and also something to carry home in her wallet. Naturally, such a character would be shrewd and keen, knowing well not only what tales would suit her company, but also the truth, or otherwise, of any tales which she herself might be a listener to. In addition, the old dame in question was generally supposed to be immune from all fear, and cared not how far from home she might be when the shades of night overtook her. On the present occasion, although a few minutes before, she had been on the point of starting, and was indeed only waiting to be handed her usual dole of charity, no sooner had she heard the lad’s strange tale, than she flatly declared that no power on earth could move her to travel an inch further that evening, and so at the expense of much inconvenience to the household a bed had to be prepared for her. However, she started early on the following morning, and long before noon, owing mainly to her assiduous diligence, the news had travelled far and near, that a phantom funeral had been seen on the previous evening. Her tale made a deep impression throughout the country-side. Those prone to superstition,—and it must be confessed, they were many,—lent a ready ear. A few,—and these prided themselves on their commonsense,—doubted. The latter class were not slow to point out, what they considered to be, a fatal flaw in the evidence. The supposed funeral was travelling in a direction, which led away from the churchyard. Had it been going down the road instead of up, they argued, that there might be something in it. Then again, it took the footpath, and it was pointed out, not only that funerals kept to the high roads, but that this particular path, could not by any stretch of imagination be said to lead to any burial ground. This seemed a reasonable view to take, and as one day succeeded another, without anything unusual happening, the excitement cooled down. However, within a few weeks Williams, who lived in the cottage across the marsh was taken ill. At first, it was thought that he had contracted a chill, and it was hoped that he would soon be well again. The nearest medical man lived six miles away, and that caused further delay. On the fifth day the doctor came, but he came to find that it was too late for his skill to be of any avail. A glance at the patient had satisfied him that it was a case of double pneumonia, and that the end was rapidly approaching. A few hours later and Williams had drawn his last breath. Three days more and the funeral took place. As is the custom in country places, the neighbours [197]from far and near attended, and on their way a group of men called at the burial place for the bier. This group was joined by others so that long before the house of mourning was reached the procession was a large one. It travelled up the long stretch of road where the lad had watched that mysterious crowd, in the twilight six weeks before. The same lad watched again, and when the procession reached the point, where the footpath branched away across the fields, the man who acted as leader stopped, and raised his hand, while the procession hesitated for a moment, then looking at his watch, the leader spoke in low clear tones, “men,” said he, “it is already getting late if we go round by the road, it will get very late; we will take the path.” He led the way and as his followers swept round the curve, the lad saw that the last four men carried on their shoulders an empty bier. It was being taken to fetch the body.

John Jones, Coed-y-Brenin, near Neuaddlwyd, was going home one evening from Derwen-gam; and as he walked along he found himself suddenly in a phantom funeral, and was so pressed by the crowd of spirits that he nearly fainted. At last he managed to escape by turning into a field. He then noticed that the phantom funeral proceeded towards Neuaddlwyd, and soon there was a light to be seen in that chapel through the windows. A few weeks after this a real funeral took place. The above J. Jones, who had seen the apparition only died about twelve years ago. My informant was Mr. Thomas Stephen, near Mydroilyn, in the parish of Llanarth.

The following tale was related to me by Mr. Jones, Bristol House, Talybont:—

A farmer’s wife, who lived in the northern part of Cardiganshire, had gone to Machynlleth Market one day riding a pony. On her journey home that evening she met a “toili” on the road. The pony was the first to notice the spirit-funeral, and the animal refused to go forward, but turned back and stood trembling under the shelter of a big tree till the “toili” had passed. The woman was quite terrified, and as soon as she reached home she rushed into the house and asked her husband to go out and put the pony in the stable, and stated that she felt unwell that night. Soon after this, one of the family died. [198]

Some persons have such clear vision of a phantom funeral, that they are able even to recognise and give the names of the persons that appear in the spectral procession.

Owen Shon Morris, of Pant’stoifan, Llanarth, who died 85 years ago, saw a “toili” passing his own house in the direction of Llanarth, at 1 o’clock in the morning. He even discovered that among the crowd was his own friend, Evan Pugh, the tailor, and a woman wearing a red petticoat. When the “toili” had gone as far as a certain green spot on the road, after passing the house, the tailor and the woman with the red petticoat left the procession, and returned to their homes. Twelve months after this a funeral took place, and in the procession were the tailor and the woman with a red petticoat, both of whom returned home after accompanying the crowd as far as the green spot.

My informant was an old farmer, named Thomas Stephens, near Mydroilyn.

I obtained the following account from an old man in North Pembrokeshire:—

About seven o’clock one winter evening, David Thomas, Henllan, Eglwyswrw, went to the village shop to get some medicine for a sick animal. When he was returning home, it was a fine moonlight night. All of a sudden, however, he found himself in utter darkness, being carried back to Eglwyswrw almost unknown to himself by a “Crefishgyn” as such an apparition is called in North Pembrokeshire; and when he got his feet on the ground once more, he discovered himself taking hold of the iron bars of the Churchyard Gate. In his adventure with the apparition he had passed a blacksmith’s shop, where several men were working, without seeing or noticing anything.

A farm servant, named David Evans in the parish of Llandyssul, Cardiganshire, had visited his brother who was ill one night, but whilst going home at two o’clock in the morning, a “toili” carried him all the way to Llandyssul Churchyard. My informant was Rees, Maesymeillion.

I have also heard of an old woman at Cilcennin, near Aberaeron, who was also carried by force to the churchyard by a “toili,” and there are such tales all over the country.

Miss Martha Davies, a housemaid, at Fishguard, Pembrokeshire, informed me that her family possessed the peculiar gift of [199]second sight, and that her mother had seen the phantom of her own funeral before she died.

When she was out walking one night, the old woman was terrified by seeing a funeral procession meeting her on the road and which passed on towards Caersalem, a Nonconformist Chapel close by. The Rev. Jenkin Evans, Vicar of Pontfaen, was walking behind the procession, and she even took notice of his dress and what kind of hat he had on his head. She was taken ill the very next day, and in a very short time died, and every one in the neighbourhood believed that she had seen an apparition of her own funeral. The deceased was buried at Caersalem; and as her daughter, Martha, was at the time a maid-servant at Pontfaen Vicarage, the Vicar accompanied the girl to her mother’s funeral in his carriage. When he arrived in the neighbourhood where the funeral was to take place, he left his horse and trap at a public house, and proceeded to the house of mourning on foot, as the distance the funeral procession had to go from Melin Cilgwm to Caersalem burial place was very short. Strange to say, when the funeral did proceed, it so happened that the Vicar of Pontfaen walked behind the procession, and his clothes, and even his very hat were in exact accordance with the description which had been given by the dead woman of the vision.

A few years ago an old man named James, 75 years of age, living at Nantgaredig, in Carmarthenshire, told me that he had seen a phantom train on one occasion.

Some years ago when he happened to be out about midnight once, he saw a train passing, which came from the direction of Carmarthen, and went towards Llandilo, and as no train was to pass through the station of Nantgaredig at that hour he enquired of the Stationmaster next morning what was the special train that passed at mid-night. In reply, he was told he had been either dreaming or had seen the spirit of a train, as no train had passed at that time of the night.

A few days after this a special train passed through the station conveying a large funeral from Carmarthen to Llandilo; and James and his friend were convinced that the train he had seen in the night was nothing but an apparition of the real train with the funeral!

Like every other apparition a “toili” is supposed to be seen in the night time only; but according to the late Mr. Lledrod [200]Davies, people working at the harvest near Llangeitho many years ago, saw a “toili” at mid-day in the churchyard of Llanbadarn Odwyn; and a funeral took place soon afterwards.

The following story of a phantom funeral in the day-time was related to me by an old woman in Pembrokeshire, a farmer’s wife in the Parish of Llanycefn:—

An old man named John Salmon saw an apparition of a funeral in the day-time, and he even recognised most of those who were in the procession, but was surprised to find that the minister was not amongst them.

A few days after this the funeral took place, and the minister was prevented from being present as he had been called away from home at the time.

Sometimes a “Toili” is heard without being seen.

An old woman who lived in a little cottage at Dihewid, in Cardiganshire, forty-five years ago, heard every phantom funeral that passed her house; she could tell even the number of horses in the apparition.

An old woman who only a few years ago lived close to Llanafan Churchyard, in the same County, heard from her bed one night the Vicar’s voice, the Rev. W. J. Williams, reading the burial service quite distinctly, and soon after a funeral took place.

The Vicar was informed of this by the old woman herself.

About sixty years ago, the mother of one David Hughes, Cwmllechwedd, was one day standing outside the house, when all of a sudden, she heard the sound of singing. She recognised the voice of the singer as the voice of the Curate of Lledrod, but when she looked round she could see no one anywhere. The maid servants also heard the same sound of singing.

Twelve months after this her son, David Hughes, a young man of 22 years of age died, and on the day of the funeral, the Curate of Lledrod, standing near the door, gave out a hymn, and conducted the singing himself, just as the funeral was leaving the house.

My informant was Thomas Jones, Pontrhydfendigaid.

A woman at Aberporth, informed me that she had heard a “Toili” singing:

Three weeks before the death of her aunt.

Mr. John Llewelyn, Rhos-y-Gwydr, somewhere on the borders of Carmarthenshire and Pembrokeshire, when he went to the door [201]of Rhydwilym Chapel one evening, he was surprised when he listened, to hear his own voice preaching a funeral sermon.

Another remarkable instance of second-sight seeing appeared in “Notes and Queries” for July, 1858. The contributor, Mr. John Pavin Phillips, gives the following account of what occurred to him himself in the year 1818, upon his return home to Pembrokeshire, after many years’ absence:—

“A few days after my arrival, I took a walk one morning in the yard of one of our parish churches, through which there is a right of way for pedestrians. My object was a twofold one: Firstly, to enjoy the magnificent prospect visible from that portion; and secondly, to see whether any of my friends or acquaintances who had died during my absence were buried in the locality. After gazing around me for a short time, I sauntered on, looking at one tombstone and then at another, when my attention was arrested by an altar-tomb enclosed within an iron railing. I walked up to it and read an inscription which informed me that it was in memory of Colonel ——. This gentleman had been the assistant Poor Law Commissioner for South Wales, and while on one of his periodical tours of inspection, he was seized with apoplexy in the Workhouse of my native town, and died in a few hours. This was suggested to my mind as I read the inscription on the tomb, as the melancholy event occurred during the period of my absence, and I was only made cognisant of the fact through the medium of the local press. Not being acquainted with the late Colonel ——, and never having seen him, the circumstances of his sudden demise had long passed from my memory, and were only revived by my thus viewing his tomb. I then passed on, and shortly afterwards returned home. On my arrival my father asked me in what direction I had been walking, and I replied, in —— Churchyard, looking at the tombs, and among others I have seen the tomb of Col. ——, who died in the Workhouse. ‘That’ replied my father ‘is impossible, as there is no tomb erected over Colonel ——‘s grave.’ At this remark I laughed. ‘My dear father,’ said I, ‘You want to persuade me that I cannot read. I was not aware that Colonel —— was buried in the Churchyard, and was only informed of the fact by reading the inscription on the tomb.’ ‘Whatever you may say to the contrary’ said my father, ‘What I tell you is true; there is no tomb over Colonel ——‘s grave.’ Astounded by the reiteration of this statement, as soon as I had dined I returned to the Churchyard [202]and again inspected all the tombs having railings around them, and found that my father was right.

There was not only no tomb bearing the name of Colonel ——, but there was no tomb at all corresponding in appearance with the one I had seen. Unwilling to credit the evidence of my own senses, I went to the cottage of an old acquaintance of my boyhood, who lived outside of the Churchyard gate, and asked her to show the place where Colonel —— lay buried. She took me to the spot, which was a green mound, undistinguished in appearance from the surrounding graves.

Nearly two years subsequent to this occurrence, surviving relatives erected an Altar-tomb, with a railing round it, over the last resting place of Colonel ——, and it was, as nearly as I could remember, an exact reproducing of the memorial of my day-dream. Verily, ‘there are more things in Heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’

The “Canwyll Corph” or Corpse Candle, was another death portent often seen in West and Mid-Wales, about a generation or two ago. Indeed there are several persons still alive who have told me that they had seen this mysterious light themselves. It was a pale light moving slowly and hovering a short distance from the ground. Some could tell whether a man, woman, or child was to die. The death of a man was indicated by a red light, that of a woman by a white light, and a faint light before the death of a child. If two lights were seen together, two deaths were to take place in the same house at the same time. If the light was seen early in the evening a death was to take place soon, but if late it was not to take place for some time.

Like the “toili” or phantom funeral, the Corpse Candle also was seen going along from the house—where death was to take place—to the churchyard along the same route which a funeral was to take, whether road or path.

Sometimes the light was seen carried by a spectral representation of the dying person, and it was even thought possible to recognise that person by standing near the water watching the apparition crossing over it. Another way of recognising the dying person was to stand at the church porch watching the candle entering the building. There are some instances of people seeing their own corpse candle.

There was an old woman living at Llanddarog, in Carmarthenshire, named Margaret Thomas, who always saw every light or [203]Corpse Candle going to the churchyard before every funeral. She only died about 27 years ago.

Another old woman who also saw the same death portents was Mary Thomas, Dafy, who lived close to Llandyssul churchyard in Cardiganshire. She was buried sixty years ago.

There is a tradition that St. David, by prayer, obtained the Corpse Candle as a sign to the living of the reality of another world, and according to some people it was confined to the Diocese of St. David’s, but the fact of it is there are tales of corpse candles all over Wales.

Owen Evans, Maesydderwen, near Llansawel, Carmarthenshire, who is over 90 years of age, gave me the following account of a Corpse Candle which had been seen at Silian, near Lampeter.

When Evans was a boy, his father lived in an old house close to the churchyard walls, and kept the key of the church door. At that time singing practice was often conducted in the church, especially during the long winter evenings. One evening a certain young man entered the churchyard with the intention of going to the church to attend this singing-class, though it was a little too early; but he could see light in the church through one of the windows. So on he went to the church door thinking that the singing had commenced, or at least that some one was in the church. But to his great surprise he found the door closed and locked, and when he looked in through the key-hole there was not a soul to be seen inside the church. The young man then went to the house of Owen Evans’s father and informed the old man that there was light in the church, but that he did not see anyone inside. “You must be making a mistake,” said my informant’s father to the young man, “there cannot possibly be any light in the church; no one could have entered the building to light it, for the door is locked, and I have the key here in the house.” “But I am positively certain,” said the young man again, “that there is light in the church, for I took particular notice of it.” Both of the two men now went to the church together, and as they approached, they noticed a light coming out from the church. This light moved slowly towards a certain part of the churchyard, and the two men followed it and watched it until it suddenly disappeared into the ground. That it was a corpse candle they had no doubt in their minds. The young man had a walking stick in his hand with which he made a mark or a hole in the ground on the spot where the light had sunk. Soon after this a death took [204]place in the neighbourhood, and the dead was buried in the very spot where the corpse candle had sunk into the ground.

My informant told me also that he had seen a corpse candle himself before the death of an adopted son of one Mr. John Evans, who lived at Glandenis, in the same neighbourhood.

There is a tradition at Llanilar that a young woman got drowned long ago in attempting to cross the river Ystwyth during a flood; and that a short time before the melancholy event took place, people in the neighbourhood had seen a corpse candle hovering up and down the river. According to the Rev. Edmund Jones, the young woman had come from Montgomeryshire to see her friends at Llanilar.

There is also a tradition in Carmarthenshire of a three-flamed corpse candle which had been seen on the surface of the water near Golden Grove a short time before three persons were drowned near the spot.

An old man named James, living at Nantgaredig in Carmarthenshire, gave me an account of how he himself and his father and others had seen a Corpse Candle in the parish of Conwil Elvet.

When James was a boy, he was sent one day by a farmer’s wife on a message to Llanpumpsaint, about three miles off, to fetch a pair of clogs from the blacksmith, and a few small things from a shop in the village. When he arrived there he went first to the blacksmith, but he had to wait there as the clogs were not ready. Then he went to the village shop, but, unfortunately, the woman who kept the shop was not at home, and he had to wait several hours; so that when he returned to the farm with his message it was quite dark. But the farmer’s wife gave him plenty to eat and a present of a waistcoat. Then he went home to Nantglas, where his father and mother lived. It was now getting late in the evening, and he was only a boy going along a lonely road. When he was between Yetyffin, and Cwmgweren, he noticed some light coming after him nearer and nearer, and it even passed him at last. It hovered within about two feet from the ground as it went slowly along. The boy, who was a little bit frightened, now knocked at the door of a house he was passing and called the attention of the inmates to the strange light on the road.

On he went again, and he even passed the light on the road; but when he reached home and told his parents about it, his father [205]would not believe that he had seen a light. But the boy opened the door just as the light was passing and he called his father to come out and see it. The whole family now came out, and both his father and the other children saw the light, but his mother and one of the children did not see it—not possessing second sight.

Soon after this, a child died at a house called Yet-y-ffin; and my informant’s father and his neighbours were convinced that the light which they had seen was his corpse candle.

Sometimes a corpse candle was seen coming into the chamber of the person about to die.

A woman, who was a native of Gwynfi in Carmarthenshire, told me about five years ago that when her child was dying, she took particular notice of a pale bluish light coming in through the window and standing right over the bed. I have also heard several other persons saying things of this kind.

The following story was contributed to the “Pembrokeshire County Guardian,” May 11th., 1901, by Mr. Joseph Davies, Glynderwen:

“It happened not many miles from Tenby where a certain young school mistress lodged at a farm house where she was very happy in every respect. One night after retiring to rest, the light having been put out, and she was lying awake, she suddenly noticed a peculiar greyish light like a little star moving towards the foot of her bed from the doorway. The light came to a stand-still by her bed and gently lowered to her feet. Almost paralysed with fear, she called with all her strength for help, and in a few minutes the whole of the household were together in the room listening in amazement to the frightened girl’s story, and all sorts of means were used to pacify her and to induce her to go to sleep, but without avail. She would not stay in that room for the world, and her bed had to be removed and fixed on a temporary bedstead in the room where the mistress slept. Time passed, and the story spread abroad; some made light of it, and some looked serious, and all tried to get the young lady to shake off all thoughts of it. But to no purpose—let them laugh or chaff, she bore the same sad expression, and said something would certainly follow to clear up the mystery. About six weeks or so had passed, and one night the mistress, who was a strong healthy woman, suddenly took ill, and quite unexpectedly died. The young schoolmistress happened at the time to be away on her holidays, and on hearing of the sad news she hurried back to attend the funeral. When she arrived at [206]the house she was taken upstairs to see the body, she again became almost paralysed on finding that the corpse had been laid out on the spare bedstead on the very spot where she had six weeks previously pointed out where the light had lowered and disappeared. No one had thought of the incident until reminded of it. The body had been laid out there for convenience at the time; no one ever thought of the young lady’s fright until she now pointed it out herself.

“So after that it can be easily imagined the whole neighbourhood became convinced that there was something in it after all, and the old superstition got strengthened in the minds of the young people that it remains to a great extent to the present time.”

The following appeared in “Apparitions in Wales” by Rev. Edmund Jones, and it is a story of long ago:

“Some years ago one Jane Wyat, my wife’s sister, being nurse to Baronet Rudd’s three children, and his Lady being dead, his house-keeper going late into a chamber where the maid servants lay, saw five of these lights together: while after that chamber being newly plastered, a great grate of coal fire was kindled therein to hasten the drying of it. At night five of the maid servants went there to bed as these were wont, and in the morning were all found dead, and suffocated with the steam of the new tempered lime and coal.”

This was at Llangathen, in Carmarthenshire.

The most common death prognosticator throughout Wales in the present day is a peculiar bird known as “Deryn Corph” (Corpse Bird)—a bird flapping its wings against the window of the room in which there is a sick person. This was considered an omen of death. Even in the present day most people dread to see or hear a bird flapping its wings against the window when there is a sick person in the house; but every bird is not a corpse bird.

An old woman in Pembrokeshire, Miss Griffiths, Henllan, near Eglwyswrw, told me this bird is a little grey one and that it came flapping against her own window before the death of her father, and also before the death of each of her three uncles.

I have met with people in almost every district throughout the country who have heard the flappings of this mysterious bird before a death. [207]

Mr. Rees, Maesymeillion, Llandyssul, informed me that many years ago there lived in that part of the country an old woman known as Nell Gwarnant. The old woman at one time had an only son, a young lad who was very dear to her. One day a certain bird came into the house quite suddenly, and descended on the rim of the Spinning Wheel, flapping its wings. The old woman feared that the bird was a precursor of death, and to her great sorrow her only son soon died. A bird coming into the house is also a sign of a storm.

Birds as precursors of death seem to follow Welsh people to all parts of the world. A few years ago a Corpse Bird appeared in Perth, Western Australia, before the death of a Welsh lady in that city; and this reminds me of a strange incident which happened in Patagonia, 30 years ago, when I was there. Two Welsh gentlemen, Mr. Powell, who was known as “Helaeg,” and Mr. Lewis Jones, a friend of the late Sir Love Jones Parry, M.P., were returning to the Welsh Colony, from Buenos Ayres, in a sailing vessel. When the ship came within a few miles of the mouth of the river Chubut, the captain found it necessary to remain in the open sea that day, as the tide was too low to enter the river over the bar just then. Mr. Jones and Mr. Powell, however, left in a small boat manned by Italian sailors; but when they were within a certain distance of the land the sea was very rough, and a certain bird appeared suddenly on the scene. Mr. Powell pointed out the bird to his friend and said, “Do you see that bird, that’s the Bird of Biam! We shall be drowned this very moment.” Just as he spoke, the boat suddenly turned over, and the unfortunate speaker got drowned on the spot. The other men were saved. Mr. Powell, who, unfortunately, got drowned, was a gifted Welsh Roman Catholic gentleman, who knew about twelve languages, and was a friend of the President of the Argentine Republic.

It was reported in the “Aberystwyth Observer” twenty-two years ago, that before the death of Mrs. Fryer, Lady Pryse (now Dowager), noticed a bird hovering around Gogerddan, and at times flapping his wings at the windows.

In the excellent Welsh Magazine “Y Brython” for January, 1860, page 40, the following remarkable incident is given in connection with the death of the famous poet and clergyman, Tegid, which, being translated is as follows:— [208]

“In his absence from Church, when lying on his death-bed, in the morning of the Lord’s Day, whilst a neighbouring clergyman was taking the service for him in Llanhyfer Church, the voice of the reader was suddenly drowned by the beautiful song of a thrust, that filled the whole church.... It was ascertained on leaving the church that at that very moment the soul of Tegid left his body for the world of spirits.”

It is stated in the “Cambro-British Saints,” page 444, that previous to the death of St. David “the whole city was filled with the music of angels.”

The Rev. Edmund Jones in his “Apparitions in Wales,” says that at the death of one Rees David in Carmarthenshire, “a man of more than common piety,” several persons who were in the room heard “the singing of angels drawing nearer and nearer; and after his death they heard the pleasant incomparable singing gradually depart until it was out of hearing.”

The Cyhyraeth was another death portent. It has been described as a wailing or moaning sound heard before a death, and it was thought to be a sound made by a groaning spirit. This spirit was never seen, only its sound was heard.

According to “British Goblins” by Sikes, one David Prosser, of Llanybyther, heard the Cyhyraeth pronouncing the words “Woolach! Woolach!” before a funeral.

According to the same book “this crying spirit, especially affected the twelve parishes in the hundred of Inis Cenin, which lie on the south-east side of the river Towy, ‘where some time past it groaned before the death of every person who lived that side of the country! It also sounded before the death of persons ‘who were born in these parishes, but died elsewhere.’

“Sometimes, the voice was heard long before death, but not longer than a quarter of a year. So common was it in the district named, that among the people there is a familiar form of reproach to any one making a disagreeable noise, or children crying or groaning unreasonably was to ejaculate ‘Oh’r Cyhyraeth!’ A reason why Cyhyraeth was more often heard in the hundred of Inis Cenin, was thought to be that Non, the mother of St. David lived in those parts where a village is called after her name Llanon.” [209]

The Tolaeth is also a sound heard before death or a funeral.

It is represented as superstitious rappings, or knockings, strange noises, or sounds of footsteps or of carriages, etc.

This superstition is common in all parts of the country at the present day; and I have met and heard of many carpenters who always know when they are to have an order for a coffin, as they hear strange knockings in their workshops resembling the noise or knockings made by a carpenter when engaged in coffin-making. An old lady who lives at Pontshan, Llandyssul, told me three years ago, that when she was a young woman, she and two other young women were on one occasion sitting near the fire all night watching and nursing a sick old woman of 80 years of age. About four o’clock in the morning, to their great surprise, they heard the door open, and the sound of someone or something entering the house and going about the room, but nothing was visible, nor did the door open as a matter of fact. The aged patient also heard the sound and enquired who had come in. At four o’clock next morning the old woman died. The same woman also told me that before the death of a prominent Esquire in Carmarthenshire, she remembered hearing the sound of a carriage before the front entrance of the mansion, when no carriage was near.

Sound of carriages before the death of one of the gentry is a thing that we often hear of even at the present day everywhere in West and Mid-Wales.

Sir Edward W. P. Pryse, Gogerddan, informed me that he was told that people had heard the sound of carriages before the death of his grandfather, who died in 1855, and was a member of Parliament for Cardigan. Nanteos, another ancient family in the same county, has, or had, not only a phantom coach, but even a tutelary guardian; but whether this Welsh “Banshi” was a woman under enchantment, or a fairy, is not known.

It was formerly believed that the church bell was tolled by a spirit or some other supernatural agency, before a death in certain families. I wonder if the word “Tolaeth” is derived from toll?

Several old persons living in the parish of Blaenporth, South Cardiganshire, informed me that it is a fact that in former times a death in certain families in that parish was always foretold by the church-bell in the steeple tolling three times at the hour of [210]midnight unrung by human hands. One old woman gave me the following tradition concerning the origin of this tolling:—

Once upon a time a spirit came at midnight and knocked at the door of a farmhouse known as Tan-yr-Eglwys, which is close to Blaenporth Church. “Who is there?” enquired the farmer from his bed. “Mair Wen (white Mary) of Blaenporth,” was the reply; “the silver communion cup has been stolen from the church.” Then the spirit begged the farmer to get up from bed and proceed at once on a journey to the town of Cardigan, as the man who had committed such sacrilegious act was resting that night on a sofa in a certain public house in that town with the silver cup under his waistcoat. The farmer went to Cardigan, and when he arrived at the public house named by the spirit, and entered a certain room, a strange man who was lying on the sofa got up, and the stolen cup from under his waistcoat fell to the floor. The farmer took it up in an instant, and returned with all speed to Blaenporth, and placed the sacred vessel in the church once more. For his kindness and trouble in thus restoring the sacred cup, the good spirit or guardian angel of Blaenporth Church told the farmer that the bell would toll three times before his death, and before the death of his descendants till the ninth generation.

A few miles from Newcastle Emlyn there is a farmhouse called Pen’rallt-hebog, which is situated in the parish of Bettws-Evan, in Cardiganshire.

Besides Pen’rallt-hebog there is also—or there was—another house on the same farm known as Pen’rallt-Fach. And there lived at this Penrallt-fach about 25 years ago a tailor named Samuel Thomas, and his wife.

About that time a very strange incident occurred, and the following account of it was given me by Mr. S. Thomas himself an intelligent middle-aged man who is still alive I believe.

One morning, very early, Thomas beard a knocking at the door of his bedroom, and he enquired from his bed “who is there?” but there was no reply, and everything was quiet again.

The next morning again he heard knocking at the door, though not the bedroom door this time, but the front door of the house. My informant exclaimed from his bed, “Alright, I am getting up now.” But when he did get up, and opened the door, not a single soul could be seen anywhere. Thomas was quite surprised, [211]and perplexed as to who could have come to disturb him at five o’clock in the morning, two mornings one after the other, and disappear so mysteriously. No voice had been heard, nor the sound of footsteps, only a knocking at the door. After this there was no further knocking for some time.

Twelve months to the very day after this a brother of Thomas who lived in some other part of the country came on a visit, and to spend a day with him, and this was in the first week of January, 1883. Some day during this week the two brothers went out with their guns to shoot some game, but soon returned to the house again, and in the evening Thomas went to his workshop to do some “job”; but as he was busily engaged in making a suit of clothes, he heard a knocking at the window quite suddenly—two knocks. He thought that some friend outside wanted to call his attention to something; but when he looked at the window there was no one to be seen After a while the knocking went on again, and continued for about ten minutes.

The second night the knocking at the window continued as the previous evening between ten and eight o’clock, but nothing was to be seen.

On the third night there was a knocking at the window several times, and it was much louder or more violent than it had been on the two previous evenings. The tailor and the young man who was his assistant decided now to keep their eyes on the window, and as soon as they did so there was no more knocking; but the moment they ceased looking and resumed their work, the knocking was heard again. There were several young men present in the room this evening, and they heard the knocking, and even the wife heard it from another apartment of the house.

These “spirit knockings” had been now noised abroad everywhere, and amongst others who went there in order to hear them was the farmer on whose land the tailor lived. The farmer did not believe in superstition, but when he heard the knocking he was convinced that there was something supernatural about it.

On the fifth night a very loud knock at the door was heard as if some one attempted to break through; and on the sixth evening when my informant went out for a short walk he heard such noise as if two hundred horses were rushing by him.

On the seventh and eighth evenings the knocking still continued; and on the ninth evening, Thomas went out with a gun in his hand, and found that there was no one to be seen anywhere, but he heard some groaning voice in the air, and doleful wailing. The man returned to the house quite frightened. [212]

There was no more knocking after this evening.

In the beginning of January, 1883, at the very time when these strange knockings, sound, and wailing were heard at Pen’rallt Fach cottage, a woman whose old home had been this very house before she had left her native land was dying in America; and her crying on her death-bed in that far-off land was heart-rending, when she found that she was too ill to return to Wales, to die at her old home in Cardiganshire, and to be buried with her husband, who had died before she had left for America. One Mr. Lloyd, from Newcastle Emlyn, happened to be at her death-bed in America, when she was longing in vain to die in her old home in Wales. This solves the mystery of the “spirit knockings,” and it also confirms the truth of the old belief that Death makes his presence known by knocking at the door of the relatives of friends of those he is about to strike.

Lledrith is an apparition or the spectre of a person seen soon before his death or about the time he is dying.

A most remarkable tale of an apparition of this kind is given in “Ysten Sioned,” an interesting Welsh book written by the late Rev. Chancellor D. Silvan Evans, and Mr. John Jones (Ivon).

About seventy years ago a young French sailor at Aberystwyth in Cardiganshire, had fallen in love with a servant maid in that town, and she with him. One evening, when this young woman was preparing to go to bed she heard her lover calling to her by her name. It was a bright moonlight night, and when she went to the door there she saw the young man approaching and offering his hand to her; but to her great surprise he disappeared again without speaking a single word. Soon after this, news came to the town that a ship from Aberystwyth got lost on the coast of Spain, and that amongst others of the crew, who were drowned, was the young Frenchman. The young woman discovered that her lover was drowned on the Spanish Coast in the very same hour that she saw his apparition at Aberystwyth!

The young Earl of Lisburne ten years ago saw a wraith at Havod, on the night his father was dying at Crosswood Park. Of this I was informed by Mr. Inglis-Jones, Derry Ormond, and by his Lordship himself.

It is well-known that the great Lord Brougham saw an apparition of this kind when a friend of his was dying in India, about one hundred years ago. [213]

Another death portent was the “tanwedd,” so called because it appeared as a fiery light. The Rev. Edmund Jones says in his “Apparitions”.—“When it falls to the ground it sparkleth and lightens. The freeholders and landlords upon whose ground it falls, will certainly die in a short time after.”

Gwrach y Rhibyn was an ugly old hag with long flowing hair, glaring eyes and face as gloomy as death itself. The shriek of the old hag was supposed to foretell a death or some misfortune. She appeared, as a rule, only before the death of a person who had lived a wicked life; at least this is the saying in West Wales, especially in Carmarthenshire and Cardiganshire.

Cwn Annwn were supposed to have been supernatural hounds whose yelling or howling on dark nights foreboded a death. If the howling was faint, it meant that the pack was close at hand, if loud, the hounds were only hunting at a distance. These hounds were supposed to watch for the souls of notoriously wicked men about to die.

An old farmer, named Mr. Thomas Stephens, Llwyncelyn, Llanarth, Cardiganshire, informed me that his brother once heard the bark of these hounds on the road near Bronwen.

The Cock.—It was once thought in all parts of Wales that the crowing of a cock before or about midnight was a sign of death; but whether one of the family or one of a neighbour’s family was going to die, it depended on the direction of the cock’s head whilst crowing.

The Hen.—A hen crowing like a cock is also supposed to indicate a death in the family or some very near relation; or if not death, some very bad luck.

A hen laying two eggs in the same day was also a sign of death. A hen laying a small egg was also a bad sign.

An Owl persistently screeching near a house or a raven croaking hoarsely also indicated a death.

The Dog.—A dog howling, which is called in Welsh Ci-yn-udo, is a sign of a death.

The Death Watch.—A sound made by a small insect like the ticking of a watch was once considered a sign of death. A few [214]years ago a sound of this kind was for a long time heard at a house in the parish of Llanddewi Brefi; but as no one died in the house, the family was cured of the superstition.

The sound in the ear as of a bell, is a token of death in the family.

Clothes Burning.—A farmer’s wife near Aberystwyth, informed me that a few years ago she placed a servant boy’s wet trousers on a chair to dry before the fire. Then she went out to milk the cows, but when she returned to the house she found that the trousers was burnt. A few days after this her mother died.

The untimely blossoming of a tree is another sign of a death.

Yarrow and Heather.—Bringing either yarrow or heather into a house is a presage of death; white heather, however, is a sign of good luck.

Death-pinch.—This is a mark that cannot be accounted for, appearing suddenly on any part of the body, and is a sign of the death of one of the family or a relative.

A Funeral Procession moving too fast is a sign that another funeral will soon follow.

A writer in “Bye Gones” for 1892 says:—

“The other day in going through Mid-Cardiganshire on election business, I observed one row of turnips growing in the middle of a field of potatoes on a farm occupied by a Nonconformist minister. When asked how it happened that that solitary row of turnips came to be there, the minister explained that by accident the planters missed putting down potatoes, and the idea prevailed in the district if the vacant row was not filled in by sowing something in it, some one would die in consequence in the neighbourhood.”

This superstition is also found in Carmarthenshire as well as in Cardiganshire.

I have met with many ministers of the Gospel, Professors of Universities, and other enlightened and educated men who are convinced that there are death portents. [215]

There are still lingering in Wales many beliefs and practices with respect to the moon. It is considered unlucky to see the new moon the first time through the window, and many persons go out of doors to see her and show her a piece of money to insure good luck while that moon lasts. I was told by an old gentleman in Cardiganshire that he had seen many taking off their hats and bowing to the new moon; some ladies also make a curtsey to her, and it is considered very lucky to see her over the right shoulder. If a person wishes anything when he sees the new moon after New Year’s Day, his wish will be granted to him.

Putting a Hen to Sit.—A hen is put to sit so as to get the chick out of the egg at the waxing, and not at the waning of the moon, as it is believed that the young birds are strong or weak according to the age of the moon when they are hatched.

Sowing.—There are still many people who are very particular to sow their seeds in their gardens and their fields during the first quarter of the moon, owing to the idea that the seed will then germinate quicker, and grow stronger than when the moon is on the wane. I knew a farmer—a native of Llanfynydd, in Carmarthenshire—who was always very careful to sow his wheat during the first quarter or the waxing of the moon, and it is a well-known fact that he had always a good crop at harvest time.

There are also people who are very particular about having their hair cut just before or about full moon so that it might grow better afterwards. [220]

When a child, I was told that the dark object which is to be seen in the moon is a man who was taken up there as a punishment for gathering firewood on the Sabbath Day.

The cat sitting with her back to the fire is considered to be a sign of snow.

The cock crowing on rainy weather is a sign of fair weather for the rest of the day.

Sea-gulls flying seaward betoken fair weather; when they fly landward, a storm is coming.

When the crane flies against the stream, that is, up the river towards its source, it is considered a sign of rain; but the same bird going down the river, is a sign of fair weather. The same is said of the heron.

To see ducks and geese flap their wings and dive wildly about is a sign of rain.

Crows flying low portend rain; but if they fly high in the air it is a sign of fair weather. The same is said of swallows.

Other rain signs are the woodpecker’s screech; and the cows running wildly about.

If the mountain ponies leave the low and sheltered valleys and return to the mountains during hard weather, it is a sign of a change in the weather.

The sheep flocking together is a sign of rough weather.

According to the old Welsh saying the rainbow appearing in the sky in the morning portends rain; and in the afternoon fair weather:—

Ceredigion, in “Bye-Gones,” August 2nd, 1905, says: “All along the Merioneth and Cardiganshire Coasts farmers watch the sea carefully in harvest time. If there be not a cloud in the sky; if the wind be in a dry quarter; and if the sea be of cerulean blue, if the margin be discoloured and muddy, the farmers know that rain is approaching and will probably be on them before nightfall.”

If distant mountains are clearly seen, rain may be expected; but if the mountains appear as if they were far off, it is a sign of fine weather. [221]

When the smoke from the chimney falls down toward the ground, instead of rising upward, it is a sign that rainy weather will soon follow; but if the smoke goes upward straight, it is a sign of fair weather.

In the evening, when the horizon in the west is tinged with a ruddy glow it is a sign that fair and dry weather will come.

In the summer, when the atmosphere is dense and heavy it is a sign of a thunder-storm.

Rough weather may be expected when the wind blows the dust about, and throws down people’s hats.

When the stone floors are damp and are long in drying after having been washed is a sign of fair weather.

It is also considered a good sign to see large numbers of white butterflies.

Another good sign of fine weather is the sun setting red and clear.

Bread and butter falling on the floor upside down signifies “rain is near,” according to some folks.

When the moon’s horns are turned up, it is a sign of fine weather; if they are turned down rain is coming. When the face of the moon is partially obscured by a light thin vapour rain is coming.

Welsh people in country places generally expect a change of weather when the moon changes; and I have just been informed at Llanilar, that a new moon on a wet Saturday, brings wet weather, but that, on the other hand, a new moon on a fine Saturday, brings fine weather.

By Christmas, the days are said to have lengthened “a cock’s stride.”

The following Welsh weather sayings I often heard when a boy:—

If the hazel (collen) blooms well it is a sign of a fruitful year.

In Cardiganshire and Carmarthenshire, it is believed that if nuts will be numerous, many children will be born that year. [222]

I have met many people all over Wales who think that a very mild winter is not good, and they repeat the old saying:—

which means that

Many of the farmers are very much perturbed when a cow brings forth two calves. A few years ago a farmer’s wife in the parish of Llangybi, near Lampeter, informed me that one of the cows had twin calves, and that she was very anxious to sell the animal as soon as possible, as such an incident was considered an omen of ill-luck or a very great misfortune to the family or the owner. This superstition is very general in Carmarthenshire and Cardiganshire; but I have heard that in some parts of North Wales a contrary view is taken of such an event.

When the first calf of the season happens to be a male one, it is a sign of a successful year to its owner, but the contrary, if the calf is a she one.

If the new born calf is seen by the mistress of the house with its head towards her, as she enters the cowhouse to view her new charge and property, it is a good omen. It is also considered a good sign to find the cattle wild and difficult to manage on the way to the fair; for you’ll sell them to your advantage.