"The men tinker a little, sir, but more frequently plunder. The
women tell fortunes, and steal whenever they can."
"They live something like the Gipsiaid."
"Something, sir; but the hen Gipsiaid were gentlefolks in
comparison."
"You think the Gipsiaid have been frightened away by the
Gwyddelians?"
"I do, sir; the Gwyddelod made their appearance in these parts
about twenty years ago, and since then the Gipsiaid have been
rarely seen."
"Are these Gwyddelod poor?"
"By no means, sir; they make large sums by plundering and other
means, with which, 'tis said, they retire at last to their own
country or America, where they buy land and settle down."
"What language do they speak?"
"English, sir; they pride themselves on speaking good English, that
is to the Welsh. Amongst themselves they discourse in their own
Paddy Gwyddel."
"Have they no Welsh?"
"Only a few words, sir; I never heard one of them speaking Welsh,
save a young girl - she fell sick by the roadside as she was
wandering by herself - some people at a farmhouse took her in, and
tended her till she was well. During her sickness she took a fancy
to their quiet way of life, and when she was recovered she begged
to stay with them and serve them. They consented; she became a
very good servant, and hearing nothing but Welsh spoken, soon
picked up the tongue."
"Do you know what became of her?"
"I do, sir; her own people found her out, and wished to take her
away with them, but she refused to let them, for by that time she
was perfectly reclaimed, had been to chapel, renounced her heathen
crefydd, and formed an acquaintance with a young Methodist who had
a great gift of prayer, whom she afterwards married - she and her
husband live at present not far from Mineira."
"I almost wonder that her own people did not kill her."
"They threatened to do so, sir, and would doubtless have put their
threat into execution, had they not been prevented by the Man on
High."
And here my guide pointed with his finger reverently upward.
"Is it a long time since you have seen any of these Gwyddeliaid?"
"About two months, sir, and then a terrible fright they caused me."
"How was that?"
"I will tell you, sir; I had been across the Berwyn to carry home a
piece of weaving work to a person who employs me. It was night as
I returned, and when I was about halfway down the hill, at a place
which is called Allt Paddy, because the Gwyddelod are in the habit
of taking up their quarters there, I came upon a gang of them, who
had come there and camped and lighted their fire, whilst I was on
the other side of the hill. There were nearly twenty of them, men
and women, and amongst the rest was a man standing naked in a tub
of water with two women stroking him down with clouts. He was a
large fierce-looking fellow and his body, on which the flame of the
fire glittered, was nearly covered with red hair. I never saw such
a sight. As I passed they glared at me and talked violently in
their Paddy Gwyddel, but did not offer to molest me. I hastened
down the hill, and right glad I was when I found myself safe and
sound at my house in Llangollen, with my money in my pocket, for I
had several shillings there, which the man across the hill had paid
me for the work which I had done."
CHAPTER XV
The Turf Tavern - Don't Understand - The Best Welsh - The Maids of
Merion - Old and New - Ruthyn - The Ash Yggdrasill.
WE now emerged from the rough and narrow way which we had followed
for some miles, upon one much wider, and more commodious, which my
guide told me was the coach road from Wrexham to Ruthyn, and going
on a little farther we came to an avenue of trees which shaded the
road. It was chiefly composed of ash, sycamore and birch, and
looked delightfully cool and shady. I asked my guide if it
belonged to any gentleman's house. He told me that it did not, but
to a public-house, called Tafarn Tywarch, which stood near the end,
a little way off the road. "Why is it called Tafarn Tywarch?"
said I, struck by the name which signifies "the tavern of turf."
"It was called so, sir," said John, "because it was originally
merely a turf hovel, though at present it consists of good brick
and mortar."
"Can we breakfast there," said I, "for I feel both hungry and
thirsty?"
"Oh yes, sir," said John, "I have heard there is good cheese and
cwrw there."
We turned off to the "tafarn," which was a decent public-house of
rather an antiquated appearance. We entered a sanded kitchen, and
sat down by a large oaken table. "Please to bring us some bread,
cheese and ale," said I in Welsh to an elderly woman, who was
moving about.
"Sar?" said she.
"Bring us some bread, cheese and ale," I repeated in Welsh.
"I do not understand you, sar," said she in English.
"Are you Welsh?" said I in English.
"Yes, I am Welsh!"
"And can you speak Welsh?"
"Oh yes, and the best."
"Then why did you not bring what I asked for?"
"Because I did not understand you."
"Tell her," said I to John Jones, "to bring us some bread, cheese
and ale."
"Come, aunt," said John, "bring us bread and cheese and a quart of
the best ale."
The woman looked as if she was going to reply in the tongue in
which he addressed her, then faltered, and at last said in English
that she did not understand.
"Now," said I, "you are fairly caught:
