Chapter II

Now the old witch who had worked all these evils lived near the well in a cottage. She had first learned witchcraft from a book called _The Black Art_, which a gentleman farmer had lent her when a girl. She progressed rapidly with her studies, and being eager to learn more, sold herself to the devil, who made compact with her that she should have full power for seven years, after which she was to become his. He gave her a wand that had the magic power of drawing people to her, and she had a ring on the grass by her house just like the fairy’s ring. As the seven years were drawing to a close, and her heart was savage against the farmer who first led her into the paths of evil knowledge, she determined to be revenged. One day, soon after the Fairy of the Dell came to live by the spring, she drew the farmer to her with her wand, and, standing in her ring, she lured him into it. When he crossed the line, she said:

“Cursed be he or she
That crosses my circle to see me,”

and, touching him on the head and back, a horn and a tail grew from the spots touched. He went off in a terrible rage, but she only laughed maliciously. Then, as she heard of the Queen of the Dell’s good deeds, she repented of her evil deeds, and begged her neighbour to go to the queen fairy and ask her if she might come and visit her. The queen consented, and the old witch went down and told her everything--of the book, of the magic wand, of the ring, and of all the wicked deeds she had done.

“O, you have been a bad witch,” said the queen, “but I will see what I can do; but you must bring me the book and the wand;” and she told the old witch to come on the following day a little before noon. When the witch came the next day with her wand and book, she found the fairies had built a fire in the middle ring. The queen then took her and stood her by the fire, for she could not trust her on the outer circle.

“Now I must have more power,” said the queen to the fairies, and she went and sat on the throne, leaving the witch by the fire in the middle ring. After thinking a little, the queen said, “Now I have it,” and coming down from her throne muttering, she began walking round the outer circle, waiting for the hour of one o’clock, when all the fairies got into the middle circle and marched round, singing:

“At the hour of one
The cock shall crow one,
Goo! Goo! Goo!
I am here to tell
Of the sacred well
That lies in the dell,
And will conquer hell.”

On the second round, they sang:

“At the hour of two
The cock crows two,
Goo! Goo! Goo!
I am here to tell
Of the sacred well
That lies in the dell;
We will conquer hell.”

At the last round, they sang:

“At the hour of three
The cock crows three,
Goo! Goo! Goo!
I am here to tell
Of the sacred well
That lies in the dell;
Now I have conquered hell.”

Then the queen cast the book and wand into the fire, and immediately the vale was rent by a thundering noise, and numbers of devils came from everywhere, and encircled the outer ring, but they could not pass the ring. Then the fairies began walking round and round, singing their song. When they had finished the song they heard a loud screech from the devils that frightened all the fairies except the queen. She was unmoved, and going to the fire, stirred the ashes with her wand, and saw that the book and wand were burnt, and then she walked thrice round the outer ring by herself, when she turned to the devils, and said:

“I command you to be gone from our earthly home, get to your own abode. I take the power of casting you all from here. Begone! begone! begone!” And all the devils flew up, and there was a mighty clap as of thunder, and the earth trembled, and the sky became overcast, and all the devils burst, and the sky cleared again.

After this the queen put three fairies by the old witch’s side, and they constantly dipped their wands in the sacred spring, and touched her head, and she was sorely troubled and converted.

“Bring the mirror,” said the queen.

And the fairies brought the mirror and laid it in the middle circle, and they all walked round three times, chanting again the song beginning “At the hour of one.” When they had done this the queen stood still, and said:

“Stand and watch to see what you can see.”

And as she looked she said:

“The mirror shines unto me
That the witch we can see
Has three devils inside of she.”

Immediately the witch had a fit, and the three fairies had a hard job to keep the three devils quiet; indeed, they could not do so, and the queen had to go herself with her wand, for fear the devils should burst the witch asunder, and she said, “Come out three evil spirits, out of thee.”

And they came gnashing their teeth, and would have killed all the fairies, but the queen said:

“Begone, begone, begone! you evil spirits, to the place of your abode,” and suddenly the sky turned bright as fire, for the evil spirits were trying their spleen against the fairies, but the queen said, “Collect, collect, collect, into one fierce ball,” and the fiery sky collected into one ball of fire more dazzling than the sun, so that none could look at it except the queen, who wore a black silk mask to protect her eyes. Suddenly the ball burst with a terrific noise, and the earth trembled.

“Enter into your abode, and never come down to our abode on earth any more,” said the queen.

And the witch was herself again, and she and the queen fairy were immediately great friends. The witch, when she came out of the ring, dropped on her knee and asked the queen if she might call her the Lady of the Dell, and how she could serve her.

“We will see about that,” said the queen.

“Well, how do you live?” asked the woman who had been a witch.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said the queen. “We go at midnight and milk the cows, and we keep the milk, and it never grows less so long as we leave some in the bottom of the vessel; we must not use it all. After milking the cow, we rub the cow’s purse and bless it, and she gives double the amount of milk.”

“Well, how do you get corn?”

“Well, we were at the mill playing one day, and the miller came in and saw us, and spoke kindly to us, and offered us some flour. ‘We never take nothing for nothing,’ I said, so I blessed the bin: so in a few minutes the bin was full to the brim with flour, and I said to the miller, ‘Now don’t you empty the bin, but always leave a peck in it, and for twelve months, no matter how much you use the bin, it will always be full in the morning.’ Now I have told you this much, and I will tell further, ‘You must love your neighbour, you must love all mankind.’ Now here is a purse of gold, go and buy what you want, eggs, bacon, cheese, and get a flagon of wine and use these things freely, giving freely to the aged poor, and if you never finish these things, there will always be as much the next morning as you started with. And I shall make a salve for you, and you must use the water from the sacred well. That will be as a medicine, and people shall come from far and wide to be cured by you, and you shall be loved by all, and you shall be known to the poorest of the poor as Madame Dorothy.”

And the woman did as she was told, and she became renowned for her medical skill, especially in childbirth, for her salve eased the pains, and her waters brought milk. By-and-by, she got known all over the island, and rich people came to her from afar, and she always made the rich pay, and the poor were treated free.

Madame Dorothy used to see the queen fairy at times, and one day she asked her, “Shall we meet again?”

“We cannot tell,” said the queen, “but I will give you a ring--let me place it on your finger--it is a magic ring worked by fairies. Whenever you seek to know of me, make a ring of your own, and walk round three times and rub the ring; if it turns bright I am alive, but if you see blood I am dead.”

“But how can that be? You are much younger than I am.”

“Oh, no! we fairies look young to the day of our death; we live to a great age, but die naturally of old age, for we never have any ailments, but still our power fades. Men fade in the flesh and power, but we fade only in power. I am over seventy now.”

“But you look to be thirty.”

“Well, we will shake hands and part, for I must go elsewhere; as I have no king, I do not stop in one place.”

And they shook hands and parted.

ELLEN’S LUCK.

Ellen was a good girl, and beautiful to look upon. One Sunday she was walking by an open gutter in a town in North Wales when she found a copper. After that day Ellen walked every Sunday afternoon by the same drain, and always found a copper. She was a careful girl, and used to hoard her money.

One day her old mother found her pile of pennies, and wished to know where she got them.

Ellen told her, but though she walked by the gutter for many a Sunday after, she never found another copper.

THE FAIRIES’ MINT.

Once upon a time there was a miller, who lived in Anglesey. One day he noticed that some of his sacks had been moved during the night. The following day he felt sure that some of his grain had been disturbed, and, lastly, he was sure someone had been working his mill in the night during his absence. He confided his suspicions to a friend, and they determined to go the next night and watch the mill. The following night, at about midnight, as they approached the mill, that stood on a bare stony hill, they were surprised to find the mill all lit up and at work, the great sails turning in the black night. Creeping up softly to a small window, the miller looked in, and saw a crowd of little men carrying small bags, and emptying them into the millstones. He could not see, however, what was in the bags, so he crept to another window, when he saw golden coins coming from the mill, from the place where the flour usually ran out.

Immediately the miller went to the mill door, and, putting his key into the lock, he unlocked the door; and as he did so the lights went out suddenly, and the mill stopped working. As he and his friend went into the dark mill they could hear sounds of people running about, but by the time they lit up the mill again there was nobody to be seen, but scattered all about the millstones and on the floor were cockle-shells.

After that, many persons who passed the mill at midnight said they saw the mill lit up and working; but the old miller left the fairies alone to coin their money.

THE PELLINGS.

In a meadow belonging to Ystrad, bounded by the river which falls from Cwellyn Lake, they say the fairies used to assemble, and dance in fair moonlight nights. One evening a young man, who was the heir and occupier of this farm, hid himself in a thicket close to the spot where they used to gambol. Presently they appeared, and when in their merry mood, out he bounced from his covert, and seized one of their females; the rest of the company dispersed themselves, and disappeared in an instant. Disregarding her struggles and screams, he hauled her to his home, where he treated her so very kindly that she became contented to live with him as his maid-servant, but he could not prevail upon her to tell him her name. Some time after, happening again to see the fairies upon the same spot, he heard one of them saying, “The last time we met here our sister Penelope was snatched away from us by one of the mortals.” Rejoiced at knowing the name of his incognita, he returned home; and as she was very beautiful and extremely active, he proposed to marry her, which she would not for a long time consent to; at last, however, she complied, but on this condition, “That if ever he should strike her with iron, she would leave him, and never return to him again.” They lived happy for many years together, and he had by her a son and a daughter; and by her industry and prudent management as a housewife he became one of the richest men in the country. He farmed, besides his own freehold, all the lands on the north side of Nant y Bettws to the top of Snowdon, and all Cwm brwynog in Llanberis, an extent of about five thousand acres or upwards.

Unfortunately, one day Penelope followed her husband into the field to catch a horse, and he, being in a rage at the animal as he ran away from him, threw at him the bridle that was in his hand, which unluckily fell on poor Penelope. She disappeared in an instant, and he never saw her afterwards, but heard her voice in the window of his room one night after, requesting him to take care of the children, in these words:--

“Rhag bod anwyd ar fy mâb,
Yn rhodd rhowch arno gôb ei dâd:
Rhag bod anwyd ar liw’r cann,
Rhoddwch arni bais ei mam.”

That is,

“Oh! lest my son should suffer cold,
Him in his father’s coat infold:
Lest cold should seize my darling fair,
For her, her mother’s robe prepare.”

These children and their descendants they say were called Pellings [1], a word corrupted from their mother’s name Penelope.

[1] In England we frequently meet with the surname Pilling and Billing; it might have happened, that a man had met with an English woman of that name, and had married her, and, as is usual in brides, she might have been, though married, called by her maiden name, and the appellation might have been continued to her posterity.--_Authors Note_.

The name Billing and Belling is the family name of one of the oldest Cornish (Keltic) families--a fact that suggests other possibilities.--P. H. E.

THE LONG-LIVED ANCESTORS.

The Eagle of Gwernabwy had been long married to his female, and had by her many children; she died, and he continued a long time a widower; but at length be proposed a marriage with the Owl of Cwm Cwmlwyd; but afraid of her being young, so as to have children by her, and thereby degrade his own family, he first of all went to inquire about her age amongst the aged of the world. Accordingly he applied to the Stag of Rhedynfre, whom he found lying close to the trunk of an old oak, and requested to know the Owl’s age.

“I have seen,” said the Stag, “this oak an acorn, which is now fallen to the ground through age, without either bark or leaves, and never suffered any hurt or strain except from my rubbing myself against it once a day, after getting up on my legs; but I never remember to have seen the Owl you mention younger or older than she seems to be at this day. But there is one older than I am, and that is the Salmon of Glynllifon.”

The Eagle then applied to the Salmon for the age of the Owl. The Salmon answered, “I am as many years old as there are scales upon my skin, and particles of spawn within my belly; yet never saw I the Owl you mention but the same in appearance. But there is one older than I am, and that is the Blackbird of Cilgwri.”

The Eagle next repaired to the Blackbird of Cilgwri, whom he found perched upon a small stone, and enquired of him the Owl’s age.

“Dost thou see this stone upon which I sit,” said the Blackbird, “which is now no bigger than what a man can carry in his hand? I have seen this very stone of such weight as to be a sufficient load for a hundred oxen to draw, which has suffered neither rubbing nor wearing, save that I rub my bill on it once every evening, and touch the tips of my wings on it every morning, when I expand them to fly; yet I have not seen the Owl either older or younger than she appears to be at this day. But there is one older than I am, and that is the Frog of Mochno Bog, and if he does not know her age, there is not a creature living that does know it.”

The Eagle went last of all to the Frog and desired to know the Owl’s age. He answered, “I never ate anything but the dust from the spot which I inhabit, and that very sparingly, and dost thou see these great hills that surround and overawe this bog where I lie? They are formed only of the excrements from my body since I have inhabited this place, yet I never remember to have seen the Owl but an old hag, making that hideous noise, Too, hoo, hoo! always frightening the children in the neighbourhood.”

So the Eagle of Gwernabwy, the Stag of Rhedynfre, the Salmon of Glynllifon, the Blackbird of Cilgwri, the Frog of Mochno Bog, and the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd are the oldest creatures in the whole world!

THE GIANTESS’S APRON-FULL.

A huge giant, in company with his wife, travelling towards the island of Mona, with an intention of settling amongst the first inhabitants that had removed there, and having been informed that there was but a narrow channel which divided it from the continent, took up two large stones, one under each arm, to carry with him as a preparatory for making a bridge over this channel, and his lady had her apron filled with small stones for the same purpose; but, meeting a man on this spot with a large parcel of old shoes on his shoulders, the giant asked him how far it was to Mona. The man replied, that it was so far, that he had worn out those shoes in travelling from Mona to that place. The giant on hearing this dropped down the stones, one on each side of him, where they now stand upright, about a hundred yards or more distant from each other; the space between them was occupied by this Goliah’s body. His mistress at the same time opened her apron, and dropped down the contents of it, which formed this heap.

GWRGAN FARFDRWCH’S FABLE.

Hear me, O ye Britons! On the top of a high rock in Arvon there stood a goat, which a lion perceiving from the valley below, addressed her in this manner:--

“My dearest neighbour, why preferrest thou that dry barren rock to feed on? Come down to this charming valley, where thou mayest feed luxuriously upon all sorts of dainties, amongst flowers in shady groves, made fruitful by meandering brooks.”

“I am much obliged to you, master,” replied the goat; “perhaps you mean well, and tell me the truth, but you have very bad neighbours, whom I do not like to trust, and those are your teeth, so, with your leave, I prefer staying where I am.”

THE STORY OF THE PIG-TROUGH.

In the beginning of the century, Hughes went as military substitute for a farmer’s son. He got £80, a watch, and a suit of clothes. His mother was loath to let him go, and when he joined his regiment, she followed him from Amlych to Pwlheli to try and buy him off. He would not hear of it. “Mother,” he said, “the whole of Anglesey would not keep me, I want to be off, and see the world.”

The regiment was quartered in Edinboro’, and Hughes married the daughter of the burgess with whom he was billeted. Thence, leaving a small son, as hostage to the grandparents, they went to Ireland, and Hughes and his wife were billeted on a pork-butcher’s family in Dublin. One day, the mother of the pork-butcher, an old granny, told them she had seen the fairies.

“Last night, as I was abed, I saw a bright, bright light come in, and afterwards a troop of little angels. They danced all over my bed, and they played and sang music--oh! the sweetest music ever I heard. I lay and watched them and listened. By-and-bye the light went out and the music stopped, and I saw them no more. I regretted the music very much. But directly after another smaller light appeared, and a tall dark man came up to my bed, and with something in his hand he tapped me on the temple; it felt like some one drawing a sharp pin across my temple then he went too. In the morning my pillow was covered with blood. I thought and thought, and then I knew I had moved the pig’s trough and must have put it in the fairies’ path and the fairies were angered, and the king of the fairies had punished me for it.” She moved the trough back to its old place the next day, and received no more visits from the wee folk.

BILLY DUFFY AND THE DEVIL.

Billy Duffy was an Irishman, a blacksmith, and a drunkard. He had the Keltic aversion from steady work, and stuck to his forge only long enough to get money for drink; when that was spent, he returned to work.

Billy was coming home one day after one of these drinking-bouts, soberer than usual, when he exclaimed to himself, for the thirst was upon him, “By God! I would sell myself to the devil if I could get some more drink.”

At that moment a tall gentleman in black stepped up to him, and said, “What did you say?”

“I said I would sell myself to the devil if I could get a drink.”

“Well, how much do you want for seven years, and the devil to get you then?”

“Well, I can’t tell exactly, when it comes to the push.”

“Will £700 do you?”

“Yes; I’d take £700.”

“And the devil to get you then?”

“Oh, yes; I don’t care about that.”

When Billy got home he found the money in his smithy. He at once shut the smithy, and began squandering the money, keeping open house.

Amongst the people who flocked to get what they could out of Billy came an old hermit, who said, “I am very hungry, and nearly starved. Will you give me something to eat and drink?”

“Oh, yes; come in and get what you like.”

The hermit disappeared, after eating and drinking, and did not reappear for several months, when he received the same kindly welcome, again disappearing. A few months afterwards he again appeared.

“Come in, come in!” said Billy.

After he had eaten and drunk his full, the hermit said to Billy: “Well, three times have you been good and kind to me. I’ll give you three wishes, and whatever you wish will be sure to come true.”

“I must have time to consider,” said Billy.

“Oh, you shall have plenty of time to consider, and mind they are good wishes.”

Next morning Billy told the hermit he was ready. “Well, go on; be sure they’re good wishes,” said the hermit.

“Well, I’ve got a big sledge-hammer in the smithy, and I wish whoever gets hold of that hammer shall go on striking the anvil, and never break it, till I tell him to stop.”

“Oh, that’s a bad wish, Billy.”

“Oh, no; you’ll see it’s good. Next thing I wish for is a purse so that no one can take out whatever I put into it.”

“Oh, Billy, Billy! that’s a bad wish. Be careful now about the third wish,” said the hermit.

“Well, I have got an armchair upstairs, and I wish that whoever may sit in that armchair will never be able to get up till I let them.”

“Well, well, indeed; they are not very good wishes.”

“Oh, yes; I’ve got my senses about me. I think I’ll make them good wishes, after all.”

The seven years, all but three days, had passed, and Billy was back working at his forge, for all his money was gone, when the dark gentleman stepped in and said:

“Now, Billy, during these last three days you may have as much money as you like,” and he disappeared.

On the last day of his seven years Billy was penniless, and he went to the taproom of his favourite inn, which was full.

“Well, boys,” said Billy, “we must have some money to-night. I’ll treat you, and give you a pound each,” and rising, he placed his tumbler in the middle of the table, and wished for twenty pounds. No sooner had he wished than a ball of fire came through the ceiling, and the twenty sovereigns fell into the tumbler. Everyone was taken aback, and there was a noise as if a bomb had burst, and the fireball disappeared, and rolled down the garden path, the landlord following it. After this they each drank what they liked, and Billy gave them a sovereign apiece before he went home.

The next morning he was in his smithy making a pair of horseshoes, when the devil came in and said:

“Well, Billy, I’ll want you this morning.”

“Yes; all right. Take hold of this sledge-hammer, and give me a few hammers till I finish this job before I go.”

So the devil seized the hammer and began striking the anvil, but he couldn’t stop.

So Billy laughed, and locked him in, and was away three days. During this time the people collected round the smithy, and peeped through the cracks in the shutter, for they could hear the hammer going night and day.

At the end of three days Billy returned and opened the door, and the devil said, “Oh, Billy, you’ve played a fine trick to me; let me go.”

“What are you going to give me if I let you go?”

“Seven years more, twice the money, and two days’ grace for wishing for what you like.”

The devil paid his money and disappeared, and Billy shut the smithy and took to gambling and drinking, so that at the end of seven years he was without a penny, and working again in his smithy.

On the last night of the seven years he went to his favourite public-house again, and wished for five pounds.

After he wished, a little man entered and spat the sovereigns into the tumbler, and they all drank all night.

Next morning Billy went back to his smithy. The devil, who had grown suspicious, turned himself into a sovereign and appeared on the floor. Billy seized the sovereign and clapped it into his purse. Then he took his purse and lay it upon the anvil, and began to beat it with his sledge-hammer, when the devil began to call out, “Spare my poor limbs, spare my poor limbs!”

“How much now if I let you go?” asked Billy

“Seven more years, three times the money, and one day in which to wish for what you like.”

Billy took the sovereign out of his purse and threw it away, when he found his money in the smithy.

Billy carried on worse than ever; gambled and drank and raced, squandering it all before his seven years was gone. On the last day of his term he went to his favourite inn as usual and wished for a tumbler full of sovereigns. A little man with a big head, a big nose, and big mouth, a little body, and little legs, with clubbed feet and a forked tail, brought them in and put them in the tumbler. The drunkards in the room got scared when they saw the little man, for he looked all glowing with fire as he danced on the table. When he finished, he said, “Billy, to-morrow morning our compact is up.”

“I know it, old boy, I know it, old boy!” said Billy. Then the devil ran out and disappeared, and the people began to question Billy:

“What is that? I think it is you, Mister Duffy, he is after.”

“Oh, it is nothing at all,” said Billy.

“I should think there was something,” said the man.

“I am afraid my house will get a bad name,” croaked the landlord.

“Not in the least! You are only a coward,” said Billy.

“But in the name of God, what is it all about?” asked an old man.

“Oh, you’ll see by-and-bye,” said Billy; “it is nothing at all.”

Next morning Billy went to his smithy, but the devil would not come near it.

So he went to his house, and began to quarrel with his wife, and whilst he was quarrelling the devil walked in and said:

“Well, Mr. Duffy, I am ready for you.”

“Ah, yes; just sit down and wait a minute or two. I have some papers I want to put to rights before I go.”

So the devil sat down in the arm-chair, and Billy went to the smithy and heated a pair of tongs red-hot, and coming back, he got the devil by the nose, and pulled it out as though it had been soft iron. And the devil began yelling, but he could not move, and Billy kept drawing the nose out till it was long enough to reach over the window, when he put an old bell-topper on the end of it. And the devil yelled, and snorted fire from his nose.

The whole of the village crowded round Billy’s, house--at a safe distance--calling out, “Billy and the devil! The devil and Billy Duffy!”

The devil got awful savage, and blackguarded Billy Duffy terribly; but it was useless. Billy kept him there for days, till he got civil and said:

“Mr. Duffy, what will you let me go for?”

“Only one thing: I am to live the rest of my life without you, and have as much gold as I like.”

The devil agreed, so Billy let him go; and immediately he grew rich. He lived to a good old age squandering money all the time, but at last he died and when he got to the gates of hell the clerk said “Who are you?” “Billy Duffy,” said he. And when the devil, who was standing near, heard, he said:

“Good God! bar the gates and double-lock them for if this Billy Duffy the blacksmith gets in he will ruin us all.”

Old Billy saw a pair of red-hot tongs, which he picked up, and seized the devil by the nose. When the devil pulled back his head he left a red-hot bit of his nose in the tongs.

Then Billy Duffy went up to the gates of heaven and St. Peter asked him who he was.

“Billy Duffy the blacksmith,” he answered.

“No admittance! You are a bold, bad man,” said St. Peter.

“Good God! what will I do?” said Billy, and he went back to the earth, where he and the piece of the devil’s nose melted into a ball of fire, and he roves the earth till this day as a will-o’-the-wisp.

THE STORY OF JOHN 0’ GROATS.

He was an old seaman, with weather-beaten face and black eyes, that had looked upon many lands and many sights.

“Well, indeed, I’ll tell you about Johnny Groats as it was told to me one night in the trades,” he said, blowing a whiff of smoke from his wheezy pipe.

“Well, in olden times there was a rich lord, who owned all the property looking on to the Pentlands--an awful place in bad weather; indeed, in any weather.

“He was a lone man, for his wife was dead, and his son had turned out to be a rake and a spendthrift, spending all his substance upon harlots and entertainments.

“Now this lord had a factor, by name John o’ Scales, a stingy, cunning man, who robbed his master all he could during the week, and prayed hard for forgiveness on the Sabbath.

“The lord, who was getting very old, was much grieved on account of his son’s behaviour. ‘He’ll spend everything when I am gone, and the estates will go into other hands,’ the old man said to himself.”

* * * * *

“One fine morning in summer the factor received orders to build a hut by the sea, and plant bushes and trees round about it. ‘But don’t make the door to fit close; leave the space of a foot at the bottom, so the leaves can blow in, for I want the hut to shoot sea-fowl as they flight, and it is cold standing on the bare ground,’ said the old man.

“The factor carried out his master’s instructions, but not without suspicion of ulterior motives on his master’s part. However, when he saw my lord shooting the birds and stuffing many of them his suspicions were allayed, and the factor thought that, after all, though his master wanted the hut for flight-shooting, still he must be getting softening of the brain, for it was very eccentric that he should take up this new hobby in his old age.

“So the old lord was never disturbed in his hut by curious and ill-timed visits.

“After a time the lord died, and was laid with his fathers, the prodigal inheriting the property.

“The old castle was then the scene of perpetual feastings and card parties, so that in a few years the property was heavily mortgaged, the old factor advancing the money.

“Things went apace, until one day the factor informed the young spendthrift that he had spent everything, and the estates were no longer his, so he gave him a few pounds, and turned him out.

“When the news spread round the countryside his old friends began to drop off, until at last the spendthrift found every door closed against him.

“When he had spent his last penny, the prodigal thought of the key which his father had given him, saying, ‘When you have spent everything, take this key, and go to the hut.’

“But he had lost the key long before.

“Nevertheless, he went to the hut. It had a deserted appearance, being overgrown with moss and lichens.

“He managed to squeeze himself under the door, and when he stood up he saw a rope, with a noose hanging from the centre of the roof. Pursuing his investigations, he found a parchment nailed to the back of the door, and in one corner stood an old three-legged stool. There was nothing else in the damp, mouldy room, so he began to read the parchment.

“‘Thou art come to beggary; end thy miserable existence, for it is thy father’s wish,’ he read.

“He was dazed, and looked from the parchment to the rope, and from the rope to the parchment, saying to himself: ‘Well, I have come to that, I must follow my father’s wish.’

“So he got the stool and put it under the noose, and standing upon it, adjusted the rope with trembling fingers round his neck, when he said, hoarsely: ‘Father, I do thy bidding,’ and he kicked the stool from under him.

“Immediately he heard a crash, and found himself lying upon the leaves, with a feeling that his neck had been jerked off. However, he soon recovered, and, taking the noose from his neck, he looked up and saw an open trap-door in the ceiling. Placing the stool beneath the opening, he got on to it, and lifted himself through the trap-door, when he found himself in a loft, a parchment nailed to the wall facing him, and on the parchment was written, ‘This has been prepared, for your end was foreseen, and your foolish father buried three chests of gold one foot below the surface of the floor of the hut. Go and take it and buy back your estate: marry, and beget an heir.’

“‘Good God! is this a ghastly joke?’ said the prodigal. But the words looked truthful; so he tore down the parchment, dropped through the trap-door, shut it, and readjusted the rope. He left the hut and borrowed a pick and shovel, and returning to the hut, he began to dig, and found one chest full of gold. When he made this discovery he closed the chest, filled in the hole, and spread leaves over the spot. He then ran off to his father’s best friend, and told him of his good luck. They then called in two other friends, and consulted together how the old lord’s wish was best to be carried out. ‘I’ll tell you,’ said his father’s oldest friend. ‘Mr. John o’ Scales gives a great dinner party once a month, and three of us here are invited as usual. You must come in in the middle of dinner in your ordinary beggar clothes and beg humbly for some food, when he will give orders to have you turned out. Then you must begin to call him a liar and a thief, and accuse him of robbing your father and yourself of your inheritance. You’ll see he’ll get angry, and offer to let you have it back.’

“So the prodigal dug up the chests, and carted the money away in canvas bags, storing it at his friend’s house.”

* * * * *

“When the night of the dinner party came, the prodigal drove up to the castle in a cart filled with canvas bags. Jumping off his seat by the driver, he went into the feast in his beggar’s clothes, and going up to the host, he begged humbly for some food.

“‘Go from this house! What business have you here?’ asked the host.

“Most of the gentlemen and ladies began to frown upon him, and murmur against him, as he walked to the lady of the house and begged her to give him some food, but she replied:

“‘Oh, thou spendthrift! thou fool of fools! if all fools were hanged, as they ought to be, you’d be the first.’

“Then the beggar’s countenance changed, a deep flush of anger overspread his features, and drawing himself up to his full height, he said, with solemn voice, addressing the host:

“‘Thou hast robbed my father all the days of his life, and thou hast robbed the orphan. May the curse of God be upon you!’

“The host grew furious; then he looked ashamed, and shouted angrily:

“‘Bring me £40,000, and you shall have your estate back. I never robbed you, but you lost your inheritance by your own follies.’

“‘Gentlemen,’ said the beggar, ‘I take you all to witness that this thief says I can have my estate back for £40,000.’

“The people murmured, and the three friends said: ‘We are witnesses.’

“The beggar ran out into the night, and returned with a man laden with sacks, and they began to count out £40,000 upon a side-table, where a haunch of venison still smoked.

“When they had counted out the money, the beggar said:

“‘There is your £40,000; sign this receipt.’

“The amazed factor drew back, when the three friends said:

“‘You must sign; you are a gentleman of your word, of course.’

“Mechanically John o’ Scales signed the paper.

“‘And now,’ said the former beggar, ‘leave my house at once, with your wife--you coward! you cur! You robbed my father, and then cheated me when I was a spendthrift. Begone, and may your name be accursed in the land!’

“And the son turned all out except his three friends.

“In a few months he married the daughter of one of his friends; but he never gambled again, only entertaining his three friends and their families, who came and went as they liked.

“And from that day John o’ Scales was called John o’ Groats.”

EVA’S LUCK.

As black-eyed, black-haired Eva Sauvet was walking one day in Jersey she saw a lozenge-marked snake, whereupon she ran away frightened.

When she got home and told her mother, the old woman said:

“Well, child, next time you see the snake give it your handkerchief.”

The next day Eva went out with beating heart, and ere long she saw the snake come gliding out from the bushes, so she threw down her handkerchief, for she was too frightened to hand it to the snake.

The snake’s eyes gleamed and twinkled, and taking the handkerchief into his fangs, he made off to an old ruin, whither Eva followed.

But when they got to the ruin the snake disappeared, and Eva ran home to tell her mother.

Next day, Père Sauvet and some men went to the ruin, where Eva showed the hole where the snake had disappeared.

Old Père Sauvet lit a fire, and smoked the snake out, killing it with a stick as it glided over the stones.

After that they dug out the hole, when they found the handkerchief. Digging still further along, they came upon a hollow place, at the bottom of which they found a lot of gold.

THE FISHERMEN OF SHETLAND.

There was a snug little cove in one of the Shetland Islands. At the head of the cove stood a fishing hamlet, containing some twenty huts. In these huts lived the fisher-folk, ruled by one man--the chief--who was the father of two beautiful daughters.

Now these fishermen for some years had been very lucky, for a fairy queen and her fairies had settled there, and she had given her power over to a merman, who was the chief of a large family of mermaids. The fairy queen had made the merman a belt of sea-weed, which he always wore round his body. The merman used to turn the water red, green, and white, at noon each day, so that the fishermen knew that if they cast their nets into the coloured waters they would make good hauls.

Amongst these fishermen were two brave brothers, who courted the chief’s daughters, but the old man would not let them get married until they became rich men.

Whenever the fishermen went off in the boats the merman was used to sit on a rock, and watch them fishing.

Close by the hamlet was a great wood, in which lived a wicked old witch and a dwarf.

Now this witch wished to get possession of the merman’s belt, and so gain the fairy’s power. Telling her scheme to the dwarf, she said to him:

“Now you must trap the merman when he is sitting on the rocks watching the fishing fleet. But I must change you into a bee, when you must suck of the juice in this magic basin, then fly off and alight on the merman’s head, when he will fall asleep.”

So the dwarf agreed, and it happened as she had said; and the merman fell asleep, and the dwarf stole the belt and brought it to the witch.

“Now you must wear the belt,” said the witch to the dwarf, “and you will have the power and the fairy will lose her power.”

They then translated the sleeping merman to the forest and laid him before the hut, when the witch got a copper vessel, saying:

“We must bury him in this.”

Then she got the magic pot, and told the dwarf to take a ladleful of the fluid in the pot, and pour it over the merman, which he did, and immediately the merman turned into smoke, that settled in the copper vessel. Then they sealed the copper vessel tightly.

“Now take this vessel, and heave it into the sea fifty miles from the land,” said the witch, and the dwarf did as he was bid.

“Now we’ll starve those old fishermen out this winter,” said the witch; and it happened as she had said--they could catch nothing.

In the spring the queen fairy came to one of the young fishermen who was courting one of the chief’s daughters, and said:

“You must venture for the sake of your love, and for the lives of the fishermen, or you will all starve--but I will be with you. Will you run the risk?”

“I will,” said the brave fisherman.

“Well, the dwarf has got my belt, he stole it from the merman, and so I have lost power over the world for twelve months and a day; but if you get back the belt I can settle the witch; if not, you will all starve and catch no fish.”

So the bold fisherman agreed to try.

“Now I must transform you into a bear, and you’ll have to watch the witch and the dwarf, and take your chance of getting the belt; and you must watch where he hides his treasure, for he is using the belt as a means to get gold, which he hides in a cave.”

And so the sailor was turned into a bear, and he went to the wood and watched the dwarf, and saw that he hid his treasure in a cave in some crags.

The bear had been given the power of making himself invisible, by sitting on his haunches and rubbing his ears with his paws.

One night, when it was very boisterous, the bear felt like going to see his sweetheart. So he went, and knocked at the door. The girl opened the door, and shrieked when she saw the bear.

“Oh, let him in,” said her old mother.

So the bear came in and asked for shelter from the storm, for he could speak.

And he went and sat by the fire, and asked his sweetheart to brush the snow from his coat, which she did.

“I won’t do you any harm,” he said; “let me sleep by the fire.”

He came again the next night, and they gave him some gruel, and played with him; for he was just like a dog.

So he came every night until the springtime, when, one morning, as he was going away, he said:

“You mustn’t expect me any more. Spring has come, and the snows have melted. I can’t come again till the summer is over.”

So he returned to the wood and watched the dwarf, but he could never catch him without his belt, until one day he saw him fishing for salmon without the belt, and at the same time his sweetheart and her sister came by picking flowers.

So the bear went up to the dwarf, and the dwarf, when he saw him coming, said:

“Ah! good bear! good bear! let me go. These two girls will be a more dainty morsel for you.”

But the bear smote him with his paw and killed him, and immediately the bear was turned into his former self, and the girls ran up and kissed him, and talked.

Then he took the two girls to the dwarf’s cave, and gave each of them a bag of treasure, keeping one for himself. And taking the belt, he put it on, and they all walked back to the hamlet, when he told the fishermen that their troubles would soon be over--but that he must kill the witch first.

Then he turned the belt three times, and said:

“I wish for the queen fairy.”

And she came, and was delighted, and said: “Now you must come and slay the witch,” and she handed him a bow and arrow, telling him to use it right and tight when he got to the hut.

So he went off to the wood, and found the witch in her hut, and she begged for mercy.

“Oh no, you have done too much mischief,” he said, and he shot her.

Then the queen fairy appeared, and sent him to gather dry wood to make a fire. When the fire was made she sent him to fetch the witch’s wand, which she cast into the flames, saying:

“Now, mark my word, all the devils of hell will be here.”

And when the wand began to burn all the devils came and tried to snatch it from the fire, but the queen raised her wand, saying:

“Through this powerful wand
that I hold in my hand,
Through this bow and arrow
I have caused her to be slain,
That she may leave our domain.
Now take her up high
into the sky,
And let her burst asunder
as a clap of thunder.
Then take her to hell
and there let her dwell,
To all eternity.”

And the wand was burnt, and the devils carried the witch off in a noise like thunder.

The twelve months were up on that day, and the fairy said to the fisherman:

“Take your chief and your brother, and put out to sea half-a-mile, where you’ll see a red spot, bright as the sun on the water; cast in your net on the sea-side of the spot, and pull to the shore.”

They did as the queen commanded, and when they pulled the net on the shore they found the copper vessel.

“Now open it,” said the queen to the fisherman with the belt, “but cover your belt with your coat first.”

And he did so, and when he opened the copper a ball of smoke rose into the air, and suddenly the merman stood before them, and said:

“The first four months that I was in prison,
I swore I’d make the man as rich as a king,
The man who released me.
But there was no release, no release, no release.

The second four months that I was in prison,
I swore I’d make the water run red,
But there was no release, no release, no release.

The last four months that I was in prison,
I swore in my wrath I’d take my deliverer’s life,
Whoever he might be.”

Whereupon the fisherman opened his coat and showed him the belt. Then the merman immediately cooled down, and said:

“Oh, that’s how I came into this trouble.”

Then he asked the fisherman with the belt what had happened, and he told him the whole story.

Then the queen told the fisherman to take the girdle off and put it back on the merman, and he did so; and suddenly the merman took to the sea, and began to sing from a rock:

_“As I sit upon the rock,
I am like a statue block,
And I straighten my hair,
That is so long and fair.
And now my eyes look bright,
For I am in great delight,
Because I am free in glee,
To roam over the sea.”_

After that the hamlet was joyful again, for the fishermen began to catch plenty of fish; for the merman showed them where to cast their nets, by colouring the water as of old.

And the two brothers married the chief’s two beautiful daughters, and they lived happily ever afterwards.

THE PASTOR’S NURSE.

Mon père était très jeune encore quand il est entré au saint ministère et qu’il fut nommé pasteur à Hambach, village de la Lorraine. L’endroit était assez grand, mais de peu de ressources, et il était heureux de trouver quelqu’un qui, dans son inexpérience et loin de sa famille, fut capable de lui aider à fonder sa maison, selon les usages et les traditions d’un bon presbytère.

C’est Madame Catherine Reeb, personne d’un âge mûr, dont le mari avait été instituteur, mais qui d’une nature mécontente et orgueilleuse, se croyait au-dessus de sa sphère, et faisait sentir à sa pauvre femme, qui l’aimait d’un dévouement admirable, toutes les tortures que l’égoïsme peut inventer. Elle se donna à peine le nécessaire pour procurer à son seigneur et mâitre tous les soins que sa supériorité imaginaire pouvait exiger, et pourtant il ne fut jamais content, et un beau jour disparut, sans qu’on pût retrouver ses traces. La pauvre Catherine fut inconsolable, mais ne perdit pas l’espoir qu’un jour son mari ne revînt, chargé de tous les honneurs, qu’elle aussi, bonne âme crédule, lui croyait dûs.

C’est dans ces conditions qu’elle vint tenir le ménage de mon père, elle le fit avec beaucoup de tact et de douceur, mais tout en elle respirait la tristesse, l’abandon. Quand, après quelques années, mon père se maria, Catherine continua son activité dans la maison, mais avec son bon sens naturel, en référa la responsabilité à sa jeune maîtresse, qu’elle aimait beaucoup.

Ma mère chercha par bien des moyens à la distraire de son chagrin. Elle devint plus gaie, quand elle nous raconta des histoires et fit des jeux avec nous. Nos parents se faisaient un plaisir de l’observer parfois quand elle ne s’endouta pas, se disant: “Voilà ce qu’il fallait à notre vieille Catherine, ce sont les enfants qui lui ont porté l’oubli.”

Mais cela ne devait pas durer bien longtemps. Elle redevint peu à peu silencieuse, et ses profonds soupirs ne prouvèrent que trop que l’oubli du triste passé n’était qu’à la surfaçe; ses manières taciturnes et les manifestations d’une secrète inquiétude commençaient même à troubler mes parents, et mon père essaya par beaucoup de bonté à la persuader d’accepter les épreuves de sa vie comme venant de Dieu. Elle pleura beaucoup et s’efforça de se gagner un peu de calme, mais sans fruit.

Un beau jour elle vint trouver mon père et lui dit: “Mon cher maître, aidez-moi a exécuter mon projet, et surtout n’essayez pas de m’en dissuader. Je suis décidée à aller à la recherche de mon mari; je sais qu’il a besoin de moi, il m’appelle, et je vais partir. Procurez-moi les papiers et certificats nècessaires à cette entreprise, afin que je ne sois pas inquiétée par le police. J’irai où mes pieds me conduiront, je ne sais où je le retrouverai, mais je sais que je le reverrai. Je marcherai de jour, et de nuit je me logerai dans une auberge ou une ferme, et je vous donnerai de mes nouvelles.”

Mon père voyait qu’il ne pouvait ébranler sa résolution, fit ce qu’elle lui demanda, pourvoyant tant que possible aux besoins de la route, et c’est le coeur gros de sinistres présages que mes parents virent partir leur bonne et fidèle servante. Quand je lui dis: “Tu ne nous aimes donc plus, puisque tu pars?” elle m’embrassa en pleurant, et dit, “Je reviendrai!” Il y avait alors vingt ans depuis la disparition de son mari, pendant lesquel elle avait soigneusement entretenu son ménage dans une petite maison qui lui, appartenait.

Elle partit donc, ainsi qu’elle l’avait dit; marchant de jour et se reposant de nuit, se dirigeant vers la Prusse.

Elle fut absente sans que nous eussions de ses nouvelles pendant au-delà d’un mois quand un jour le facteur apporte une lettre à mon père de la part d’un collègue inconnu d’un village de la Prusse, qui lui dit: “Une femme de respectable apparence, munie de certificats identifiant ses dires, est venue me prier de procéder à l’humation de son mari qu’elle a trouvé mort dans un bois du village voisin. L’autorité municipale a comparé les papiers trouvés dans les poches de l’inconnu et a constaté qu’ils sont en rapport avec ceux que la femme Reeb porte sur elle, et sur ce fait, et voyant que l’homme était mort sans violence, a laissé ses restes à elle qui se dit sa veuve et qui lui a rendu les derniers honneurs au cimetière de notre village.”

Inutile de décrire la surprise de mes parents à la reception de cette lettre, qui fut bientôt suivie par le retour de Catherine. Elle compléta le récit du pasteur en disant qu’un matin en sortant de ce village, elle alla trouver un petit bois, quand elle vit au bord du chemin un homme étendu mort, mais qui venait seulement de cesser de vivre. Elle le regarda, l’examina et reconnut son mari; il lui parut évident qu’il faisait son retour vers la patrie et elle, mais que la mort l’avait surpris en route. Catherine fut bien plus calme après ces événements, mais ses forces déclinèrent et dans la même année on creusa pour elle une tombe au cimetière de Hambach. Elle n’avait plus de famille que celle qu’elle avait si fidèlement servie, et les larmes de deux jeunes enfants prouvèrent que quoique abandonnée elle avait été aimée.

NOTES.

(1) THE FAIRIES OF CARAGONAN.

Source: This story came from a Welsh pedlar--a woman. Its genuineness may be relied upon. I find it a common belief that fairies have power over witches, and the witch-hare is commonly believed in; also a witch-fox. I have heard of no evil fairies in Wales; all the mischief seems to be the work of witches. I have heard several variants of the witch-hare.

(2) THE CRAIG-Y-DON BLACKSMITH.

This story I have heard from four different persons.

(3) OLD GWILYM.

Source: This story came from an old Welshman who says he knew Gwilym, and heard the story from his lips. The narrator may be relied upon.

(4) THE BABY-FARMER.

Same source.

(5) THE OLD MAN AND THE FAIRIES.

Same source as 2. In Wales, so far as I have heard, the disappointed always find _cockle-shells_.

(6) TOMMY PRITCHARD.

Same source as 2.

(7) KADDY’S LUCK.

Same source as 2.

(8) STORY OF GELERT.

As told by an old fisherman. The variant of this well-known story may prove useful. Borrow’s “tent” theory is, I think, an invention of his own. I was fortunate enough to get possession of an old book (without title-page, title, or author’s name), in which the following remarks on this story occur:--

“Some say this should be written Bedd Gelert, or Gilert, signifying Gelert’s, or Gilert’s Grave. To this name is annexed a traditional story, which it is hardly worth while to mention. However, the substance of the tradition is, that Prince Llewelyn ap Iorwerth, in a fit of passion, killed a favourite greyhound in this place, named Gelert, or Gilert, and that, repenting of the deed, he caused a tomb to be erected over his grave, where afterwards the parish church was built. See the story at large in Mr. Edw. Jones’s _Welsh Music_. But we may reasonably conclude that this is all a fable, both when we consider the impiety of building a church for divine worship over the grave of a dog, an impiety not consistent with the genius of that age; and when we consider, also, that the establishment of parochial cures, and the building of our country churches in Wales, began soon after the dispersion of the British clergy, which happened at the time of the massacre at Bangor Iscoed, A.D. 603, at the instigation of Augustine the Monk, employed for that purpose by the See of Rome. Llewelyn ap Iorwerth governed Wales from A.D. 1194 to 1240, when he died; so that parish churches were built between five and six hundred years before the time of this prince.

“This Gelert, or Gilert, must, in all probability, have been some old monk or saint of that name, who was interred here, and was either the first founder of this church, or one to whose memory it was dedicated, if built after his time. Bethgelert, before the Reformation, was a priory. Lewis Dwnn, a bard of the fifteenth century, in a poem (the purport of which is to solicit David, the Prior of Bethgelert, to bestow on John Wynne, of Gwydwr, Esq., a fine bay horse which he possessed) extols the Prior for his liberality and learning. Hence we are led to suppose that this monk was very opulent, and a popular character in his time.”

The stories of a hunter killing his favourite greyhound (always a greyhound) are common to many districts. The book quoted is said to be written by a Mr. Williams, in 1800.

(9) ORIGIN OF THE WELSH.

Source: An old seaman, who avers he heard it on a ship, on the way home from Calcutta. I look with suspicion on the story. However, the Welsh always believed they were descended from the Trojans, and the author of the book cited says on this point:--

“Elen was a very common name among the ancient British ladies, and it seems to have been often bestowed out of compliment upon genteel and beautiful women; as we sometimes hear at this day _Ei Elen O--his Elen_ when a man has a young and beautiful wife; and there is hardly a love-song but the woman is called or compared in it to the Trojan Helena, or Elen, as the Welsh write and pronounce the word. The Welsh have had amongst them, time out of mind, a tradition that the first colony of Bretons came to these islands from Troy after the destruction of that city.”

(10) THE STORY OF THE CROWS.

Source: Told me by an old man, who knew the defunct.

(11) ROBERTS AND THE FAIRIES.

Source: Told me by another old man, and I believe it to be genuine.

There is another story of the same kind, of a man who was searching for treasure in Beaumaris Castle, and after he had told of his luck a stone fell on him, so that he had to go away.

(12) THE QUEEN OF THE DELL.

Came from the same old pedlar as No. 1. A genuine story. The narrator says you seldom hear a fairy story in Anglesea unless there is a witch in it.

(13) ELLEN’S LUCK.

Source: Told me by the same old man as No. 11. I believe it to be genuine, and the narrator trustworthy.

(14) THE PELLINGS.

Source: Taken _verbatim_ from the old book referred to. In the context the author says these people inhabited the districts about the foot of Snowdon, and were known by the nickname of Pellings, which is not yet extinct; and he says they tell the tale as given. After telling the story, which he entitles a fairy story, he makes the following suggestive comments:--

“Before the Reformation, when the Christian world was enveloped in Popish darkness and superstition, when the existence of fairies and other spectres was not questioned, and when such a swarm of idle people, under the names of minstrels, poets, begging friars, etc., were permitted to ramble about, it may be supposed that these vagrants had amongst themselves some kind of rule or government, if I may so term it, as we are assured those that now-a-days go under the name of gypsies have. Such people might, at appointed times on fine moonlight nights, assemble in some sequestered spot, to regulate their dark affairs and divide the spoil; and then perform their nightly _orgies_, so as to terrify people from coming near them, lest their tricks and cheats should be discovered. It is possible the men of Ystrad might have less superstition, and somewhat more courage, than their neighbours, and supposing such a one to come suddenly on these nightly revellers, he would of course cause great consternation amongst them; and, on finding a comely female in the group, it is not unnatural to imagine that he might, as the heroes of old have done before him, seize on a beauteous Helen, carry her home, and in process of time marry her--for many valorous knights have done the latter; but she, on account of some domestic jars, might afterwards have eloped from him, and returned to her former companions and occupation.”

The author makes the following remarks in a foot-note:--

“The English writers of romances feign the fairies to be of a smaller size than even the fabled pigmies; the Welsh people ever supposed them to be of the same stature with mankind. Shakespeare describes his fairy as less than a mite, riding through people’s brains to make the chase. This has not been my experience. I have had them described to me of all sizes, varying from a woman to little people two feet high. They have been described, when large, as dressed like ordinary ladies, when small, with short dresses; no hats, and hair in a plaited pigtail down the back.”

Finally, the writer says:

“What other interpretation can be given to this tale I know not. This, and such other tales, the material of which one might collect a volume, must, it may reasonably be supposed, have something of reality for their origin and foundation, before they were dressed out in the familiar garb given them by their authors.”

So our author is a “realist” as regards the origin of fairies.

(15) THE LONG-LIVED ANCESTORS.

Source: Taken _verbatim_ from the book quoted. This fable refers to the place, _Cwm Caw Lwyd_, regarding which the writer says:

“With regard to the _Cwm Caw Lwyd_, there is a still extant fable entitled _Creaduriaid Hir Hoedlog_ (i.e., the long-lived ancestors), which seems to be a composition of no modern date. At present the moral of it cannot be elucidated; but it seems that, in one respect, it was intended to represent the solitariness of this place, inhabited only by the weeping owl from remote antiquity; and certainly it is the most solitary and romantic retreat that the mind of man could imagine.” The writer says his is a “literal translation of the story, according to the Welsh phraseology”.

(16) THE GIANTESS’S APRON-FULL.

Source: _Verbatim_ from the same book. Referring to the heaps of stone found on the hill-tops, he gives the fable of the heap found upon _Bwlchy Ddeufaen_, which he says is called _Ban Clodidd y Gawres_--literally, the giantess’s apron-full.

“The writer regards such tales as originally intended as hyperboles, to magnify the prowess and magnanimity of renowned persons.”

(17) A FABLE.

Source: Taken _verbatim_ from the same book. The writer quotes it apropos of the Roman custom of bribing the Britons on the mountain tops. We are told the fable was delivered by one of the Britons, named _Gwrgan Farfdrwch_, who spoke to this effect, and then follows the fable.

(18) THE STORY OF THE PIG-TROUGH.

Source: Told by Hugh’s daughter. Genuine.

(19) BILLY DUFFY AND THE DEVIL.

Source: Told me by the old man who told me of the origin of the Welsh. Vague.

(20) JOHN O’ GROATS.

Same source. Vague.

(21) EVA’S LUCK.

Source: A Jersey fisherman. Reliable. He also informed me that large stones, supported on others, were called “Fairy Stones” in Jersey.

(22) THE FISHERMEN OF SHETLAND.

Source: Told me by a yachting hand, who heard it from a Shetlander named Abernethy who was serving in the same yacht with him. Not many years ago, some volunteers at Beaumaris swore they saw a mermaid there, and fired several shots at it. I think this story to be genuine and beautiful.

(23) THE PASTOR’S NURSE.

Source: Reliable. Written for me by the Pastor’s mother in French. Given _verbatim_.

FINAL.

The book I have quoted is in my possession, and was written, I am told, by a Mr. Williams, a Welshman, of Llandegai in Anglesea. That he was shrewd, reasonable, and knew the people of North Wales thoroughly, is evident from the context. The book has no date, but appears to have been written in 1800.

End of Project Gutenberg’s Welsh Fairy-Tales And Other Stories, by Anonymous