The Comical Adventures of Twm Shon Catty Part 12

Watt, who by this time had nearly dressed himself, was much affected by this appeal, and said, "No, Twm, I will never betray you, but, if I were known in the least to favour you it would ruin all my hopes of success in life. I am, next week, to be married to Betsy Gwevelheer, {140} Parson Evan's maid that I have courted these ten years; and the parson has promised to do great things at the bidding: and more than that, I am to be the parish clerk and grave-digger when old Morgan Meredith dies, and he can't live long, as I have made him a present of a good church-yard cough, by breaking a hole in the thatch over his bed, by which he has gained a great hoa.r.s.eness, and nearly lost his voice; so that I expect to be called in to officiate for him next Sunday."

"I see you are still my friend," said Twm, who had been lost in a reverie during part of Watt's remarks, "and I give you joy of your fair prospects, which I would not destroy on any account; you shall serve me, and, at the same time keep your oath. You know my talent at mimicry, and see how well this dress becomes me; aye, I become the dress equally as you shall see. Had I not already disclosed myself, I could have discoursed to you a whole hour at mid-day, fearless of a discovery; but let us see how this cloak becomes you, Watt." With that he took off the cloak and put it on Watt, and, after a little jesting on the subject, Twm suddenly exclaimed, "Only sit down here with the cloak on your shoulders for ten minutes, while I step out, and, with the a.s.sistance of my bundle, I will astonish you with my transformation."

All this was uttered with the gay rapidity of an antic.i.p.ated freak, and Watt taken by surprise, immediately acquiesced, without knowing what he was about. Twm ran immediately to the Rectory House, and making a great clatter, roused Parson Evans, who opened the window and asked what was the matter; when, a.s.suming Watt's voice, he said hastily, "Mister Evans!

Mister Evans! Twm Shon Catty is now in my cottage, dressed in a cloak, and sitting at the fire. You had best be quick and secure him. He wanted me not to betray him, but I could not break my oath, you know; so pray you, Parson, make haste if you would have your desire."

Delighted with this intelligence, Evans awakened the whole house, especially two strapping fellows, whom he called his bull-dogs, sometimes employing them as husbandry servants, at others, on account of their large size, and muscular power, as constables. Both these fellows were first sent to saddle his horse, in case he should have to take Twm to Cardigan gaol,-and then to attend him to Watt's cottage, where the trio soon went.

Peeping through the cas.e.m.e.nt, Evans discovered a tall figure wrapped in a cloak, as described. "There he is sure enough," quoth he in a whisper; "now get your cords ready for binding his hands, and stay here till I call you in; be sure that you watch the door well." With that he lifted the latch and went in. Watt, who, in the interim of our hero's absence, had made up a good fire, now stood up, and, as he saw the clerical magistrate before him, exclaimed, "Well done, Twm, my boy! I now give you credit; well, well, well, this is indeed strange; a wonderful disguise; you look the old rascal to the life; if you had not told me before-hand of your intended transformation, I could have sworn you were old Evans himself; you look now just as he did when he promised to make me parish clerk."

Evans remained petrified with astonishment till the last words were uttered, when he replied, "Parish devil! you infernal scoundrel, have you roused me out of my bed at midnight to hoax and insult me in this manner?

but you shall dearly repent your insolence."

Watt stared with wonder, and replied, "Well, well, well! I never did hear such a thing in my life; you have just the old villain's voice and swaggering way; I wish I may die if you don't so frighten me; and I could almost swear the spiteful old Evans himself stood before me; hang him, I hate his very looks, and I am only holding a candle to the devil, in hopes of the parish clerkship, by seeming so civil to him." Evans thought him certainly either mad or drunk; and without any further explanation, he called the two men in, and ordered them to secure him.

The light at length broke in on Watt's mind; Twm's trick on him, and the real state of the case appeared; and he struggled hard before the fellows could secure him.

At length he cleared up his confused and chagrined countenance, and said, in an undaunted tone, "Well, well, well, I see the worst; farewell to mole-catching; farewell to parish-clerkship, and Bessy Gwevelheer; and you, you evil-minded old scourge, may bid farewell to all hopes of having me to father your brat, of which your maid Bessy is big. I will make the country ring with the stories of your rascalities if you dare to send me to the round house; but if you liberate me at once, I shall leave Tregaron for ever, in the course of a few days, and go abroad, to see the world and seek my fortune."

To the great surprise of the men, and, perhaps, of Watt himself, Evans seemed cowed by his threats, and, after a little show of parleying, gave him that freedom of which he had no right to deprive him. Leaving him alone in his cottage, he shuffled home, accompanied by his worthless followers.

While Watt's cottage became the theatre of the above-described scene, Twm Shon Catty had a performance of his own elsewhere-a dance if you will-to which the same reverend gentleman was doomed to pay the piper. Having watched the party to Watt's door, Twm hastened to the parson's, calling loudly in the a.s.sumed voice of one of the fellows who accompanied, "Mistress Evans! Mistress Evans! make haste and send master his pocket-book with his money, immediately; Twm Shon Catty is taken, and we are going off with him to Cardigan gaol."

Mrs. Evans sleeping in a front room, heard him instantly, and with unusual alacrity jumped off bed; she soon threw down the pocket-book, which was caught by Twm, and asked him, "Doesn't he want his weather-proof great coat also?" Our hero replied, "Yes, but, dear me, I did forget that," and immediately received the great coat likewise. Mrs.

Evans wishing them safe home from Cardigan, shut the window. The saddled horse was already at the gate, and Twm, well coated and cashed, instantly mounted and rode off, glorying in his triumph over his old rancorous enemy. "Here," thought Twm, "is tangible revenge for all the trouble and persecution this reverend gentleman has brought upon me." A full pocket-book, a good horse, and a warm great coat, after all, were not bad equivalents for Twm's injuries. Some philosophers might consider that outraged feelings could not be solaced in this way. But in Twm's case, at any rate, they were mistaken.

CHAPTER XX.

TWM is robbed by a highwayman. His meditations. Again is despoiled by a gipsy and a ballad-singer at Aberayon. He adopts the musical profession at Cardigan Fair.

Twm took a circuitous route over the mountains towards Lampeter, and, when he felt himself secure from pursuit, his first thought was to change his feminine attire for his own, as more convenient for riding, which was soon accomplished, and the suits changed places in the bundle. In his ignorance of the world, he scarce knew whither to direct his course after reaching Lampeter, where he arrived between one and two o'clock in the morning. He recollected that this was a central place, from which different roads led to Aberystwith, Llandovery, Carmarthen, Aberayon, and Cardigan; but found a difficulty in deciding which way to take.

It suddenly occurred to him that there was a fair at Cardigan the next day, and he determined to go there and sell the parson's horse. The whole town being wrapped in slumbers, he was now at a stand, not knowing the road which led through Aberayon to Cardigan; but, rousing a cottager, he soon gained the necessary information, and proceeded on.

As he approached Aberayon, for the first time in his life, the distant roaring of the sea struck upon his ear, still increasing as he neared the ocean side. Wonder, awe, and even terror, were the successive sensations that agitated our hero. The saddening sobs of the mighty waters as they retreated from the sh.o.r.e, and the fearful fury of their rallying and re-a.s.saulting the repulsing beach, with their successive wailing retreats, to gather the powers of the advancing tide, came on his soul like an accusing spirit that seemed to reproach him for his late misdeeds.

Severe self-accusing reflection on the atrocity of his last act, succeeded the triumphs of enmity that had first given a gust to its perpetration. Consciousness of guilt and terror of punishment at once a.s.sailed him, for he was yet young in crime. On the impulse of the moment, he determined to leave the parson's nag behind him, and then return his cash and coat as early as possible.

While these bitter agitations were racking his breast, the clatter of a galloping horse increased his terrors, and he discerned both horse and rider making briskly towards him. Strange as it may appear, notwithstanding the opposite quarter from where the danger proceeded, in the wildness of his apprehensions he conceived it could be no other than Squire Gras.p.a.cre, Parson Evans, and their party. He was actually glad when made to understand that the horseman was a highwayman. His unwelcome a.s.sailant quickly approached him and presenting his pistol, with a loud oath, to oblige "Dio the Devil" with all his cash and valuables, or prepare for immediate death.

The name of this terrific freebooter, who had, among many other descriptions of persons, robbed half the farmers in the country, and was supposed to have committed more than one murder, had its full effect upon Twm. He instantly resigned the parson's purse, a.s.suring him it was all he possessed and begged that he would allow him to retain a single angel; these terms, the robber, in a manner, acceded to, doubling his quest by giving two; but in return insisted on having his horse and great coat, which Twm gave up. Dio (whose name, by the way, is a familiar diminutive of David,) then with sarcastic politeness wished him good morning, and a pleasant journey! and galloped off in the direction of Lampeter, having the rein of the parson's horse over his left arm.

No sooner had the highwaymen disappeared, than Twm was struck with a full conviction of the folly of the fears he had entertained, which by depressing his mind, he thought, led to confusedly yielding his property too easily: vowing to himself, after some reflection, that if possessed of a pair of pistols, no highwayman in the world should make him stand.

His thoughts taking their course through this channel, wandered and diverged, till his mind rested on new, but perilous prospects.

"What a life," thought he, "this Dio the Devil leads-a gentleman of the road-the terror of wealthy scoundrels, who are themselves the scourge of the hapless poor, that are starved into crime-famed, feared, and mained at the general cost, while many an honest fool toils like the gulled drudge-horse, crawls through the world half-starved, and is despised for meanness!" The weight and magnitude of his reflections were such as for a few moments to reduce him to absolute silence, when recovering himself, he continued, "What does it matter to me what others do? I shall please myself, and I don't like hard work, nor do I care for coa.r.s.e fare, and still less for great folk's abuse and buffets; and if I had a pistol, why, I shouldn't mind if-"

At this moment a countryman was about to pa.s.s him on the road, in whose hand he recognized his bundle, containing his feminine attire, which in his terror he had dropped, and it rolled from the side of the road, it seems, into the ditch, previous to the halt of the highwayman. Twm immediately claimed his property, but the fellow seemed disinclined to attend to him, until vehemently insisting on his right, he evinced an inclination to battle with him; when satisfied with this very convincing sort of logic, the clown made rest.i.tution.

His little affray with the would-be-dishonest countryman, had not obliterated the thought of our hero with respect to highwaymen, and their independent style of existence, and with his mind still occupied, with the gentlemen of the road, he came to a small public-house near Aberayon, but which was so inconveniently crowded that he could scarce find a seat.

With the exception of two or three fishermen and other seafarers, these were people who made a temporary halt on their way to Cardigan fair; low booth-keepers, fruit and gingerbread sellers, and suchlike. Twm called for beer and refreshment, and while eating, observed the habits of these strange people with much curiosity. He had contrived to squeeze himself into a window-seat between two females who sat apart and civilly made room for him, and pressed his acceptance of the place.

Twm was delighted with his new position, and he was not a little surprised with the contrast which the kindness and affability of his fair companions offered to the rude gestures and uncouth speech of the remainder of the party. He did not think worse of them when he discovered that one was a gipsy fortune-teller, and the other a ballad-singer. He could not do less, he thought, than ask them to partake of his cup, and they found themselves bound in honour, in their great devotion to his health, to return it empty each time he handed it to them full.

Such gallantry on the one hand, and confidence and affability on the other, begot a sudden friendship between them; the gipsy insisting upon telling his fortune gratis, and the ballad-singer on the acceptance of two or three favourite songs; while Twm reciprocating in the warmest style, their affectionate attentions, ordered indefinite supplies of "nut-brown," on which he and his fair ones regaled to their hearts'

content.

While Twm was busily employed in looking over the bundle of ballads, among which he met many old friends, which he had frequently sung, one of the friendly nymphs was beckoned to, by a man at the opposite end of the kitchen, with whom they went out, and the gipsy soon followed them.

Our hero having selected the songs that pleased him, waited impatiently the return of the damsels. No sign of their re-appearance being visible, and all the fair people having left one by one, until Twm found himself quite alone, he inquired of the landlord if he knew where the young women had gone to. He said he did not, but that the whole party having paid him were gone off, and he had no further business with them.

Twm thought the ballad-singer a singular good-natured young woman, as she had left her bundles of melody with him, doubtless as a present, and merely taken herself away thus modestly, instead of ostentatiously proclaiming her gift, and receiving his thanks. His opinion was slightly changed, when wishful to pay the landlord, he found he had not a halfpenny in his pocket. His vexation and confusion were evident to mine host, who declared that his face was turned as white as the wall. Having searched every pocket over and over, at length the doleful tale came out that he had lost his money, and could not tell how.

"Why, as to that," said the landlord, with bitter coolness, "if it is any satisfaction to know _how_ you lost your money, I can tell you; it was by sitting between two thieves-a gipsy and a ballad-singer and what could you expect else from mixing with such cattle?" Poor Twm remained silent, in a miserable mood, with his elbows resting on the table, and with his temples in the palms of his hands, for a full half hour; when the landlord disturbed his meditations by asking payment for his fare; good-naturedly adding, "If you have no money, I don't wish to be hard with you, you can merely leave your jacket with me instead." "My jacket!" quoth he indignantly; "why that is ten times the value of what I owe you." "That's just as people think; but those are my terms, and you should be glad that I'll take it in place of good hard cash," was the reply of the uncompromising old fellow. The fishermen in the mean time pa.s.sed on him their rough and scurvy jokes, one observing, "You can sing ballads without a jacket, so I advise you to go to the fair at Cardigan, where you may perhaps meet your old friends."

Twm was too despondent to be much effected by these feeble attempts at wit, but he determined to accept the suggestion of the last speaker, and make his first appearance as a public vocalist in Cardigan, so without more ado he took off his jacket and gave it to the host, muttering a curse on his cruelty, and commenced his journey. The dress of Cadwgan's wife was again put on, not only as a fit disguise for his minstrel vocation, but a more perfect guard against the weather than his own, since deprived of his upper-garment; and thus equipped he once more took to the road, his late experience having completely sobered him, and left him depressed in spirits, as he glanced at the scene in which he had been thoroughly victimized.

CHAPTER XXI.

TWM'S appearance as a "fair" ballad singer at Cardigan. A sudden alarm.

Poor Parson Inco. Twm's hasty flight.

"The longest lane has a turning," and the weariest journey has an end, and at length Twm found himself in Cardigan, and prepared himself at once to commence his whimsical vocation. Although naturally bold, and more full of confidence than beseemed the modesty of youth, it was not without considerable efforts in struggling with some remains of diffidence that he at length ventured to sing in the public street; but he had fortified himself with a draught of strong beer, and his voice, in his own opinion, being almost unequalled in the country, he thought it foolish to hesitate. He fixed himself in rather an obscure part of the fair; but his musical voice and humorous execution of a comic song soon drew a crowd about him, and put his ballads in speedy request.

Adapting the usual gait and manner of street-vocalists, holding his hand to his mouth to secure increased power, he introduced each song with a whimsical description of its matter, in a strain of drollery that set the grinning rustics in high glee; "Here, my merry men and maidens," quoth he, "is a pretty song about a young damsel, who was taken in by a false lover, that courted her for what he could get, and having wheedled her out of her heart and money, ran away and left her to wear the willow."

THE SLIGHTED MAID'S LAMENT. {149}

In comfort and in credit, By the side of Pen-y-vole I lived:-all knew and said it, None could my will control; Until a worthless lover Did try my heart to move: Ah, soon my joys were over!

I listened to his love.

From far he travelled to me, Full many and many a night, I thought he came to woo me- My heart was all delight: My cash he thought of gaining, It was not me he sought, E'er mourning and complaining For clothes-and clothes I bought.

A pair of shoes I placed him Between his soles and ground, With stockings then I graced him, With hat his head I crown'd; Red garters then I bought him, At fair the best I saw, To bind his hose, od rod him!

Instead of bands of straw.

I bought him leather breeches Strong as a barley sack, And laid out half my riches To clothe the beggar's back; I gave him money willing, (Vexation now upbraids!) With which the thankless villain Soon treated other maids.

When thus he had bereft me Of cash, and ah, my heart!

The cruel rover left me, It grieved me then to part; Those clothes will rend in tatters, They cannot last him long: A curse attends such matters, False lovers curse is strong!