Watt replied that his mother and her husband were well; but instead of answering the latter question, enquired his adventures since he left Tregaron. Twm, with animated vanity, ran over that bright portion of his history, occasionally heightening the colour of events, according to the general practice of story-tellers, from time immemorial; dwelling particularly on his fortunate preservation of the lady of Ystrad Feen, and the benefits which accrued to him in consequence, from the liberality of Sir George Devereaux, whose confidential agent he then was, on business of the utmost importance, to London.

These extraordinary events were intended by Twm to astonish the sulky-looking mole-catcher, Watt, who was not in an impressionable mood; but Twm, nothing daunted, still ran on, saying, in allusion to his "friend" Sir George,-"Well, Watt, were he ten times as rich and happy as he is, I should never envy him any thing he possessed, but one lovely piece of property." "And what might that be?" asked Watt. "Why,"

replied the other, "could I once forget poor Gwenny Cadwgan, which I never can, I should envy him the possession of his charming young wife, the beautiful lady of Ystrad Feen-the finest, the handsomest, and cleverest woman I ever saw! and although now married to a second husband, she is little more than one-and-twenty years of age. But I was asking of my old sweet-heart Gwenny, poor Gwenny Cadwgan."

"Poor Gwenny Cadwgan indeed!" echoed Watt.

The sneering manner in which the mole-catcher spoke this, alarmed our hero; "What of her, Watt?" cried he eagerly; "is anything the matter?

tell me quickly, for Heaven's sake!" Watt replied evasively, that great trouble had come to both her and her father, in consequence of their having harboured him when the hue and cry was up. That fact, he said, was discovered a few days after his disappearance, by old Rachel Ketch, who sold the secret to the Squire for the highest price she could get; and would have sold her own soul on similar terms to the Devil himself.

Twm observed Watt writhing as he spoke, and struggling inwardly, with some terrible feeling, that for awhile deprived him of utterance. He noticed with regret the deep furrows of worldly care on his cheek, so lately ruddy and mirthful; and thought he observed a sinister expression in his sunken eye and trembling lips, that now were paler than his sallow face. Fiercely resenting the closeness of our hero's scrutiny by an a.s.sumption of rude abruptness, he said "but why do I waste time in talking here, when-but I must be off-good-bye!"

"But you have not told me of Gwenny and her father," quote Twm, in amazement at his demeanour.

"That is soon told," replied Watt, pettishly; "the squire turned him out of his farm, and made so many claims one sort or other, that Cadwgan was beggared, and left him so poor that he could scarcely take a cottage for himself and daughter. If I hadn't let him mine, he would have had none."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Twm, "thy hovel for farmer Cadwgan and the gentle Gwenny!"

"Why not?" replied Watt, with a lowering brow; "is he not a day labourer?

it served me _when I was one_, for many a bitter day. His daughter too, the dainty Gwenny, she was too good for me-turned with scorn from poor Watt the mole-catcher-but never mind! she was a bit of a sweet-heart of thine too, Twm, I remember; but set thy heart at rest, lad, if she won't be mine, she will never be thine, at any rate."

All this was uttered in a tone of bitter sarcasm, that both surprised and enraged our hero; especially when he thus learned from his own mouth that Watt had sought to win the affections of the fair and generous Gwenny Cadwgan. He replied-"Well, the devil take thee when he will, for he must have marked thee for his own, long since, or thou wouldst never have had the impudence to court Gwenny Cadwgan!"

"Ha! ha!" laughed Watt, with a bitter snarl; "she will never be thine nor mine! so don't burden thy memory with one who has already forgotten thee.

Farewell! and better luck with thy next sweet-heart!" With that he cracked his whip and drove on his herd of swine, with an air of excited fierceness that was actually fearful to witness.

So much hurt was Twm at the bearing and conduct of Watt that he allowed him to go without asking more questions. His sorrow to hear of the change in the fortunes of Cadwgan and his lovely daughter, threw a heavy cloud over his mind; and he regretted that his remittance to him, by the hand of his friend, was so small. He felt rather relieved by the reflection that however small the sum was, it would be deemed a "G.o.d-send" to them under present circ.u.mstances; and at the same time prove to friends that he was not unmindful of them, nor ungrateful for their boundless kindness in his dark days of peril. However, he felt somewhat embittered by the insinuations of Watt, that the fair Gwenny's regard for him was on the wane, if not altogether given to another; and right glad would he have been to learn the exact bearing of the whole affair, at which the mole-catcher's hints but darkly hinted.

Twm was detained at Hungerford for some days, by starving weather; and while looking about for another animal, was taken by an old pedlar, down a green lane, to a creature of his, left there to graze. He was not a little surprised to find it to be his own pony, left in exchange with the highwayman, having on his back the identical pack-saddle in which he had formerly concealed his money. Twm made a purchase of both, and the next morning took his departure from Hungerford.

His enforced leisure at Hungerford had not been unprofitably spent, for he had listened attentively to the conversation of the different drinking parties at the tavern where he stayed; and found the dangers of the road to be the general theme. The great hero of the turnpikes at this time, was a certain knight of the road called the Gallant Glover, alias Tom Dorbell, originally a leather-breeches maker and glover. It appeared that he was a man who, by his shrewdness in general, as well as particular instances of cunning, combined with his dauntless daring, had become so much an object of admiration to those who had nothing to lose, as of terror to the men of money, who had become the victims of his audacity.

The following anecdote of him, told by one of these tavern worthies, interested our worthy much, and had the effect of putting him on his mettle, in case of an accidental meeting with him during his journey.

It seems, a gentleman's son was taken for robbing on the highway; and as he had been formerly pardoned, he despaired of mercy a second time. Upon this, Tom Dorbell opened a treaty with his wealthy relatives, and undertook, for five hundred pounds, to bring him off. It was stipulated and agreed to, that one half of that sum be paid in hand, and the other half when the deliverance was effected. On the trial of the young gentleman, he was found guilty; but just as the judge was about to pa.s.s sentence, Tom Dorbell cried out "Oh! what a sad thing it is to shed innocent blood!" and continuing to reiterate the expression, he was apprehended, and the judge asked him what he meant by such exclamations, he answered,-"May it please your Lordship, it is a dreadful thing for a man to die wrongfully; but one may see how hard-mouthed some people are, by the witnesses swearing that this gentleman now at the bar robbed them on the highway, at the time stated in the indictment, when, indeed, my Lord, I was the person who committed that robbery."

Accordingly the "Gallant Glover" was taken into custody, and the young gentleman liberated. Being brought to trial the following a.s.sizes, to the astonishment of the court, he pleaded not guilty. "Not guilty!"

exclaimed the judge in a voice of thunder, "did you not at the last a.s.sizes own yourself guilty of the robbery in question?"

"I don't know," replied Tom Dorbell, as meek as a mouse, "how far I was guilty then, but, upon my word, I am not guilty now; therefore, if any person can accuse me of committing such a robbery, I desire them to prove the same." No witnesses appearing, the Gallant Glover was of course acquitted.

What Twm had heard about the Gallant Glover and his achievements, warned him that fresh trials on the road awaited him; but he was no "Bob Acre,"

and, "s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g his courage to the sticking-point," he manfully resumed his journey.

He had got within ten miles of Reading, in Berkshire, anxiously hoping to reach it without disaster, when the sudden discharge of a pistol, close to his ear, convinced him that he was in the centre of danger. Instantly a horseman, well mounted, rode fiercely down a lane that entered the road, and ordered him to stop and deliver in a minute, or have his brains scattered on the hedge beside him.

"Catch a weasel asleep!" You might do that, but to surprise Twm Shon Catty when he had reason to be on the alert, was almost impossible.

a.s.suming an air of clownish simplicity, he replied, "Lord bless ye master, I ha gotten nothing to deliver but an old testament, a crooked sixpence, and a broken fish-hook, and-and-" "And what, you prevaricating young scoundrel!" roared the highwayman. "Why, this purse," continued Twm, "which uncle Timothy gave I to market for him, and pay his bills at Reading to-morrow;" producing at the same time an old stocking, which he had stuffed with old nails and c.o.c.kle sh.e.l.ls, in order to make a jingle.

{210} The robber made a grasp at the supposed well-stocked purse, which Twm dexterously evaded, and flung it over the hedge into the adjoining field, riding on; while the former instantly alighted, bl.u.s.tering out a string of oaths and threats as he made his way to the field to search for the coveted treasure.

Twm was, of course aware that as soon as the robber had discovered how he had been tricked, that he would doubtless ride after him, and in his rage, shoot him on the spot. As Twm's poor pony would have no chance in a race with the highwayman's high-spirited charger, he determined that a daring act, if carried out successfully, would both ensure his safety and prove profitable to him likewise. The knight of the road, when he alighted, had thrown his bridle over a hedge-stake; so Twm, abandoning his pony for the second time, watched the robber into the field, crawled along the ditch till he reached his horse, which he instantly seized by the bridle, mounted and rode off in a hot gallop, till he got safe into the ancient town of Reading, as the clear-toned bells of St. Lawrence were chiming their last evening peal.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A GRACIOUS Lawyer. Twm determines to "pedestrianize" a bit. Watt's horrible tale. A fair bevy of la.s.ses from Cardigan. Guilt and the punishment.

Next morning, Twm had the horse which he had taken from the robber, cried through the town of Reading, in the honest hope that he should find the rightful owner. He was right in his conjecture that it would prove to be the property of some one in that town, for a wealthy attorney claimed it, with a considerable degree of hauteur and insolence. So far was this limb of the law from either allowing our hero anything for the loss of his own humble beast, or even thanking him for his instrumentality in recovering a valuable horse, that he told him he might think himself very lucky he was not prosecuted for its being found in his possession. Our worthy did think himself so, and took a precipitate departure accordingly.

Being now within eight-and-thirty miles of London, he resolved to throw off his disguise, and walk the rest of the journey. Accordingly, he bought a suit of clothes at Reading, in which he concealed his money and valuables, with a pair of pocket pistols; and thus provided he resumed his journey to the metropolis. Having walked twelve miles, he attained the town of Maidenhead.

On a seat outside the Bear Inn, he beheld a jovial company of topers, and in the midst of them, Watt the mole-catcher. It turned out that he had sold his pigs without going to London, and was now sauntering from tavern to tavern, squandering the money that was not his own. The moment he recognized our hero, he started on his legs, and offered him his hand.

"Twm, I take shame to myself for the manner in which we met and parted last, but I was sober then! and in my grave and sober moods all the evil and bitterness of my heart come out; now I am rather mellow, there's nothing but good in me." On being asked when he intended to return to Tregaron, Watt ground his teeth and exclaimed-"never!" adding, "it is not from fear of old Inco Evans, for I stayed there as long as I pleased, in spite of him, notwithstanding my promise to the contrary. But for other reasons Tregaron has been made too hot for me."

The whole of the drinking party having gradually dropped off, Watt and our hero were left alone, when the latter with much feeling asked his old companion what was the meaning of the extraordinary change of manner, and of character, which he perceived in him.

"I'll tell thee, lad, what's the meaning-it means that instead of the frank merry fellow I was in the dear gone days, I now am-call it what you like, but,"-cried Watt, laughing with wet eyes, "some of my dear friends who scorn flattery, would say a d-ed rascal, and I quite agree with them.

But never mind-I belong to the strongest party after all."

Our hero here pressed him for something of a connected account of his adventures since he left Tregaron; on which Watt immediately a.s.sented, and ran them over in the following off-hand strain.

"You remember, I dare say, Twm, that when you were only a child, that I was famed throughout the village as a wit and joker; in short, that I was the funny fellow of Tregaron, and my ambition was to retain this t.i.tle.

The comical tricks and humorous saying of Watt the mole-catcher, made mirth at every farmer's heath, and their tables were spread with food for me whenever I called. As I grew older, my pleasures and antipathies acquired a stronger cast; and there were but few in our adjoining parishes who were subject either to execration or ridicule, and dreaded my satire and exposure.

"I formed attachments more than once among the daughters of the farmers, whom I had frequently entertained at the social evening hearth; but although my jests were relished, my overtures were rejected. In short, I found that while mirth, innocence and harmless wit were my companions, parents generally disposed of their daughters to young men of characters directly opposite to mine-the stupidly grave, and thrifty, no matter how knavish. My eyes were at length opened; and I found that the funny man, however amusing as an acquaintance, was coveted by none as a relative, but considered as a mere diverging vagabond at best. Well, thought I, this will never do; but since gravity is the order of the day, I will be as grave and roguish as the most successful of my fellow-men. Having come to this conclusion, I studied knavery, that is to say, thrifty rascality like a science.

"As the first step I went immediately to my grandmother, who had often exhorted me to quit my sinful mirth and become serious, when I a.s.sured her of my conversion, in token of which I threw myself on my knees, and entreated her blessing. She afterwards took me to a puritanic chapel, and in that a.s.sembly, where I had often pinned the skirts and gown-tails of the elect together, the poor old doting soul in the pride of her heart exhibited her convert to the gaze of the saints; but neglected to inform them that I had robbed her that same evening of half the contents of her pocket, as she lay asleep. I was not long in discovering that a sedate aspect was a goodly mask for the most profitable villainy, and therefore determined to wear it for life. Laughter, jest, and mirthful humour, and all those thriftless indications of the light and harmless heart, I abjured for ever.

"I now gave a respite to the rats and moles, and set up as a butcher at Tregaron; and for one sheep that I bought of the farmers, I stole three, and slaughtered them either by moonlight on the hills, or by candle-light in my own cottage. Although I daily bettered my condition, I considered this but a slow and creeping course of thrift; and therefore, as conscience no longer stood in my way, I meditated some bolder way of leaping into property at once.

"You know that wrinkled old she-usurer of Tregaron, Rachel Ketch, who made money, Heaven knows how, and increased it by lending out to country people, at a higher rate than city usurers dared to ask. In the bitterness of my heart, after losing all hope of a girl, whom I had long doated on, I went to the old Jezabel and sought her hand in marriage; aye, and would have taken her were she ten times as loathsome, in the anxious hope of her speedy death, and of succeeding to her golden h.o.a.rds.

I strove to recommend myself by a.s.suring her I was the most finished scoundrel in existence; and that when gain was my object, theft, perjury, and even murder, however hideous to silly innocents, had no power to scare me from my pursuit. This avowal of my n.o.ble qualifications I thought would have won her heart forever, but I was mistaken. The keen-eyed hag, who was never seen to smile before, laughed outright at my proposal.

"'What! you want the old woman's gold, master cut-throat of the muttons, do you? to slit her weasand also, and make away with her a month after marriage, like a troublesome old ewe;' screamed she, as her spiteful black and broken snags grinned defiance, and her shrill tones broke out in laughs of mockery. I never saw mirth so d.a.m.nable before! I felt myself the b.u.t.t of her ridicule, humbled and degraded; and as my anger rose against the beldame, I resolved that since I could not wed her, to rob her would answer my purpose full as well. Accident supplied an opportunity; the little boys who had formerly been my favourites, and who in their innocence failed to recognize my change of character, I found it difficult to drive from me.

"A neighbour's child one day asked me to lift him up to Rachel Ketch's thatch, to take from it a wren's nest, which he had long watched, and said he was sure that the young ones were on the eve of flying. It was a winning little urchin that made the request, and I could not refuse him.

The moment that I raised him to a standing position on my shoulders, he eagerly thrust his little hand into the thatch, and cried, 'Dear, dear, how cold!' when a snake which he had felt, that had destroyed the young birds, coiled itself round in the nest, darted out into his face, and the youngster shrieked and fainted in my arms. I carried him home, where he soon died of the fright, for it appeared he was not stung.

"Supposing there was a nest of these reptiles in the old rotten straw thatch, I poked it in all directions with a long hooked stick, and at last felt something attached to it. As I drew it forward and examined it, to my great astonishment, I found it to be an old woollen stocking, closely stuffed with various golden coins. Here was a discovery! I felt myself a man for ever! The old woman was at this time in Carmarthenshire, where she had gone to enforce her claims to certain debts among her former neighbours; and therefore, having no fear of detection, I pushed back the golden prize and went away, intending to return for it at night. As I anxiously watched the hours and minutes pa.s.s away, reflecting on my newly-acquired wealth, a raging savage spirit of avarice so possessed me, that I determined to plunder old Rachel's cottage of all the money I could find.

"Night came, and with breathless haste I made an entrance through the thatch, on the side furthest from the street, and at midnight went away with a heavy booty, the greater part of which I buried beneath the floor of my own cottage, determined to seek an opportunity of quitting Tregaron for ever. Fortune seemed to favour me beyond my hopes; Squire Gras.p.a.cre having a numerous herd of fine pigs, engaged me to drive them to England, and sell them at a good price; I have done so, and pocketed the cash, not one farthing of which will the squire ever handle. To relate all my rogueries since I became a grave man, would take too much of your time; so here ends my story."

Twm had heard Watt's tale with sorrow and regret, and his spirits were fast sinking below zero, when a party of Cardiganshire la.s.ses, who were making their annual journey to weed the gardens in the neighbourhood of London, pa.s.sed opposite the tavern door where our worthies were sitting.

With heart-touched delight, our hero recognized the comfortable and not unpicturesque costume of his native country; and his satisfaction was still increased when he found among the rural damsels, two Tregaron girls; one of whom, named Martha Gwyn, was a fast friend of Gwenny Cadwgan's. These poor girls expressed their gladness to see their long-lost "neighbour's child," as their homely but touching phrase went; but their recognition of Watt amounted to such terror and abhorrence that the rose of health and innocence faded on their cheeks, while their expanded eyes were fearfully fixed on his countenance, as if something unearthly met their stony stare.

At length they found words to say that he was charged, not only with the robbery of Rachael Ketch's cottage, but with murder; that the constables were out to search for him in all quarters, and that Squire Gras.p.a.cre had sent out a man to supersede Watt in the care of his pigs.