The great success of Catty's school excited the ill-will of parson Inco; although he had far more scholars than he could possibly attend to. His indignation at his wife's fall from her horse into the well, while pa.s.sing his humble rival's seminary, together with the humiliating consideration that many of the most juvenile deserted his rule, to submit to hers, wounded this consequential personage to the quick. Like the fox and the grapes, he sneered at that which was out of his reach, protested that the "room" of those scholars who had deserted him was much better than their company.

This new arrangement respecting Twm, they thought could not but be vexatious to Catty, and therefore Mistress Evans felt herself avenged for the t.i.ttering that she heard in her school, on her fall into the well as before mentioned. But far different was the case from what they antic.i.p.ated, for Catty no sooner heard the order, than in the sincerity of her heart, she exclaimed, "Thank G.o.d! the boy will learn something from the parson, but I could teach him nothing."

Little Twm was now in his seventh year, and as refractory a pupil as ever was spoiled by a dawdling mother. Kept aloof from his dear duck-ponds and puddles, and compelled to explore the mysteries of the horn-book, this first change in his life was acutely felt. Self-willed and stubborn, he conceived the utmost abhorrence of horn-books, cross curates, and birch-rods; he wept and sulked, struck the boys who mocked him, stayed away from school, and was flogged so often, that at length he found it much easier to learn his book than endure the consequence of neglecting it.

Once arrived at this happy mood, and being one day praised by his master, a new spirit possessed the boy; he resolved to revenge himself on those youths who formerly had made him their b.u.t.t of ridicule, by getting the start of them in learning. The horn-book was soon thrown by; the Reading-made-easy and Spelling-book shared a similar fate; and the pride of a young heart sparkled in his eyes when his great lady aunt, on hearing a good account of him from his master, presented him with a bible, on the inside of the cover of which was the following couplet:-

"Take this Holy Bible book, G.o.d give thee grace therein to look."

A specimen of poetry which was considered by everybody to be the index to a master-mind. Mount Parna.s.sus was scaled, and that by an inhabitant of Tregaron! Poor Catty proudly showed the book and the poetry to all her neighbours, who sagely declared Mrs. Gras.p.a.cre's bounty and poetry equally fine.

Notwithstanding his rapid advancement in book learning, parson Evans was far from being satisfied with his pupil, nor was his main end answered in having brought him to his school. Twm loved his mother, and felt no great affection for his master, nor grat.i.tude for the floggings which had enforced so much learning into his head; and never could the generous boy be brought to tell any tales to her disadvantage. The curate's severity increased, and no longer praised or encouraged; Twm became not only indifferent to his tasks, but wanton and unjust severity had the effect of blunting his feelings; and making him stubborn and revengeful; until at length he arrived at such an extremity of youthful recklessness, as to study tricks for the annoyance of his master, and the scholars whom he found unfriendly.

In the eleventh year of his age, some decisive shoots of character made their appearance; a taste for sharp sayings, a skilful trickery in outwitting his opponents, appear to be his striking peculiarities, as well as boldness and resolution on the play-ground, where none could surpa.s.s him in robust or violent exercises. His faithful ally and constant instructor, Watt the mole catcher, taught him many useful and _striking_ lessons when the pedagogue had done with our hero for the day.

Twm, under his tuition, soon became proficient in the use of cudgels and quarter-staff.

More particular in the latter he excelled; and his superiority in this ancient and national exercise was exemplified by the loud cries and broken heads of his defeated schoolfellows. A catastrophe of that kind one day, even in school-time, brought the enraged master out, who severely asked Twm what he meant by such conduct. "Why, sir," cried the little rogue, "You always say that you never can beat anything into the head of Peter Penddwl, so I tried what I could do with the cudgel, that's all!" For this he was booked for a future flogging. A few days after, his master sent him from the school to his house, for a book which he wanted.

Twm found the mistress and maid out, the first at the Hall, and the last had made a present of her little leisure to her sweetheart, Watt the mole-catcher. On entering the parlour, he saw there a fine bunch of grapes, which his great lady aunt had sent his master. As this was a fruit hitherto unknown to him, he deliberately tasted two or three to discover whether they were eatable. Having gradually seen the bunch grow "beautifully less," it seemed a pity to separate the lovely fruit, so Twm thought they should all go the same way.

He therefore resolved to finish it, and lay the blame on the cat, if charged with the theft; as to dividing the spoil, and leaving a portion for the owner, the scheme was impracticable, he decided to abide by his master's maxim, "that it was not decent for two to eat from the same dish." Lifting up the remains of the luscious bunch with affected ceremony, he exclaimed in a lofty tone, mimicking his master, "I publish the banns of marriage between my mouth and this bunch of grapes; if any one knows just cause or impediment why they should not be joined together, let him now declare it, or hereafter forever, hold his peace!"

And as no dissentient voice intervened, he abruptly cried-"silence gives consent," and hastily consummated the delicious union.

No sooner had he gulped the grapes than his master made his appearance.

Suspecting the cause of his delay, he had followed after, and witnessing the imposing ritual, he stood, rod in hand, surrounded by his scholars, whom he had called. When all was in readiness, he exclaimed, "I publish the banns of marriage between my rod and your breech; if any one knows just cause or impediment why they may not be lawfully joined together in wedlock, let him now declare it."

"I forbid the banns!" roared Twm Shon Catty; "For what reason?" cried the awful pedant, flourishing his rod in eager preparation.

"Because," cried the waggish urchin, "the parties are not agreed." At this moment a servant from Gras.p.a.cre Hall brought a message from the lady of that mansion, that she wished to see the Reverend Mr. Inco Evans immediately; on which Twm obtained a remission of his flogging. History does not furnish us with satisfactory particulars as to whether Twm was liberated on account of his ready wit, or because necessity demanded it, the pedagogue being in a hurry.

The boys were now thrilled to ecstasy with that magic word, a "holiday!"

and away scampered each and all to their respective amus.e.m.e.nts. Briefly, however, was their gust of enjoyment, for parson Inco's voice was soon heard, vociferating his wrath in no gentle terms; and now he appeared in his shirt sleeves, his best Sunday sable coat in his hand, divested of every b.u.t.ton.

His face at no time prepossessing, was now terrible to look on, inflamed with anger, with a slight tint of blue-black over his native strong ground of turkey-red. Great was the terror of the poor enslaved scholars as he howled out "What villain has cut off all the b.u.t.tons from my coat?"

A general whimper of, "it was not I, sir," pa.s.sed among the shivering train. And upon Mr. Inco's threat to flog them all round unless the culprit was instantly discovered, one blue-nosed wretch, upon whom Evans had seized to commence his vengeance, roared out that it was Twm Shon Catty. "Where is the young catiff?" roared the Reverend Mr. Inco Evans.

"Playing at whirligoogan on the horseblock."

"I'll whirligoogan him with a vengeance," roared the Tyro, at the same time s.n.a.t.c.hing up his terrific bunch of birch which he had facetiously christened the tree of knowledge. Either from having a foreboding of the cause of this bustle, or being timely warned of the approaching danger, Twm had now made good his retreat, wisely considering that "Discretion was the better part of valour," and that "He who fights and runs away, may live to fight another day." So that at the precise moment when the curate thought Twm's presence desirable, that happy individual, not the least afraid, was busy sketching a caricature of his master.

The materials were blank wall, a piece of chalk, and an extensive imagination, whilst he took care to place this artistic production within the precincts of a small house never visited except when absolutely necessary, but where he knew the curate would be able to study the fine arts at his leisure, though possibly it might turn out to be the "pursuit of knowledge under difficulties." On the horse-block, however, was found his stock of whirligigs, which the Welsh boys called the whirligoogans.

These were no other than the identical b.u.t.ton moulds, which our hero had cut from the best gala-day coat of the Reverend Inco Evans, with pegs driven through each centre hole, so that when twirled between finger and thumb, on the surface of the horse-block, they became the puerile pastime of the younger scholars, who preferred "Whirligoogan" to the more robust exercise of the ball or bandy.

Baffled in his present vengeance, parson Inco shuffled off towards the house, and covered his b.u.t.tonless coat with his gown and ca.s.sock, vowing inwardly, as he adjusted his dress, future chastis.e.m.e.nt, in the superlative degree, against our hero. Unfortunately at this luckless moment, a perverse hog that seemed to enter into the spirit of this disastrous hour, having risen from his bed of mud in the horse-pond, where he had dreamed and philosophised away the whole morning, was making his way towards the feeding trough, when a lean and sour household cur which appeared to envy him his swinish beauty, and easy-life rotoundity, maliciously bit him in the breech, and drove him snorting between the legs of the newly-dressed curate; so that the reverend gentleman was thrown headlong into the ma.s.s of muck, uniting the nature of matter and fluidity.

"The son of Catty shall pay for all," muttered the enraged Inco Evans, as the servant cleansed his soiled sables. Thus when poor Twm was flogged next morning, with the leniency that the tired arm of the pedagogue alone afforded, he had to answer for the sins of the hog and the dog as well as his own-and all for playing whirligoogan with the parson's b.u.t.tons!

CHAPTER VII.

MR. GRAs.p.a.cRE upholds the national customs, and Welsh custom receives his support. A "tiff" with Lady Gras.p.a.cre. The squire defends bed courtships. Newcastle Emlyn Ale. Thirsty rats.

At this time a warm altercation one day took place between the squire and his lady, which terminated in consequences little expected by either.

Notwithstanding the prejudice to which Squire Gras.p.a.cre's harsh conduct had given birth, on his first settlement in Cardiganshire, he had about him certain saving points, that not only reconciled them to his rule, but really gained their esteem. He was a plain, bold, sensible man, and although entertaining a most exalted opinion of English superiority, generally, in particular instances he had the liberality to confess that he found things in this nation of mountaineers highly worthy of imitation among his more civilized brethren.

There are many exceptions like the squire, but we are sorry to add that in Wales we have more illiberal Englishmen, who sneer at all Welsh customs, because they are Welsh, than people would dream of. They forget that our usages are as dear to us, as theirs to them, and that however peculiar they may be in the eyes of an Englishman, the Welshman considers them a _sine qua non_ of his own nationality. But these instances are fast dying out. Railroads, free and continued intercourse, and a liberal spirit of toleration, enable the Englishman to see our custom and our usages in a different light.

He had formerly expressed his disapprobation of a custom prevalent among Welsh farmers of leaving their corn a long time on the ground after being cut, instead of housing it as soon as possible; but experience taught him that they were right and himself in error; among the corn was a large quant.i.ty of weeds, which required to be dried, before it could with safety be brought to the barn or the rick, otherwise the grain was sweated, and literally poisoned with the rank juice. He found the Cardiganshire mode of cropping the young mountain furze, and giving it as food for horses and cattle, worthy of his attention, and after various trials, decided on its efficacy so far as to adopt it for the future; and actually set Carmarthen Jack to gather the seed of that mountain plant, which he forwarded to England to be sown and reared on his Devonshire farms.

The planting of flowers on the graves of deceased friends, he eulogized as a beautiful and endearing custom, forming an agreeable contrast to the clumsy English tombstones with barbarous lines, often setting truth, rhyme and reason at defiance. The Welsh harp he declared the prince of all musical instruments, and Welsh weddings the best contrived, and conducted in the best manner in the world, and proved his sincerity by always giving something at the _Biddings_ of the peasantry, and patronizing all those who entered that happy state. Above all things he admired the female costume in Wales, and protested with much truth, that the poor people in England were not half so well or so neatly clothed.

His lofty lady, although a Welshwoman bred and born, entertained a very different set of ideas on these subjects. Whenever her husband related the anecdote of Polydore Virgil's ecstacy on his first landing in Britain, when he beheld the yellow-blossomed furze, which gave a golden glow to the swelling bosom of the hills-how he knelt on the ground beside a bush of it, fervently worshipping the G.o.d of Nature, that beautified the world with the production of such a plant; she would instantly reply, "The man was a fool! for _my part_ I see nothing in the nasty p.r.i.c.kly thing to admire, but wish the fire would burn them all from one end of the mountains to the other."

"And yet, my dear," he would answer, "Polydore Virgil was a native of no rude soil, but came from the land of the laurel, the cypress, and the vine, the orange, the lemon, and the citron, and many other splendid plants, the very names of which you perhaps never heard of; yet he had the liberality to admire what he justly deemed beautiful, even in a northern clime, and a comparatively harsh mountainous district."

As to the harp, whenever he praised its melody, she declared it odious and unbearable, and gave preference to the fiddle, the bagpipes, or even the hurdy-gurdy; and the Welsh female costume she protested still more loudly against, and asked him with a sneer if he did not conceive it capable of improvement.

"Oh, certainly, my dear," would he reply; "for instance, I would have the Glamorganshire girls wear shoes, and feet to their stockings, and convert their awkward wrappers into neat gowns; the Cardiganshire fair ones should doff their clogs, and wear leathern shoes; and the Breconshire la.s.s, with all others who follow the abominable habit, should be hindered from wearing a handkerchief around the head; but I know of no improvement that can be suggested for the Pembrokeshire damsel, except _one_ which would be equally applicable to all Welsh girls,-namely, to throw off their flannel shifts and wear linen ones."

Now this good gentlewoman, whose leading weakness it was to suspect her husband's fidelity when from home, kindled with rage at this remark.

"Shifts, Mr. Gras.p.a.cre," exclaimed the angered lady, "what business have you to concern yourself about such matters? You ought, at least, to know nothing about such matters, but I dare say you know too much. There's but one woman's shifts in the world of which you ought to know anything, but no, you seem to know the cut of every girl's shifts, and you couldn't get that experience without other of a different kind."

Anxious as a seaman to turn his bark from the direction of a dangerous rock, he mildly replied, "Surely, my dear, I may exercise my eyes, when the washed clothes are bleaching on the hedge," and then adding in the same breath, "indeed, if I were you, my dear, I would make some improvements, _such as your good taste will suggest_, among our own maids; taking care however, not to destroy the stamp of nationality on their garbs at any rate." This was a well-judged hit on his part, and had the effect of averting the impending storm.

It should have been mentioned before, that the squire, soon after his marriage, had made a tour of South Wales, and, as his lady expressed it, taken a whim in his head of engaging a maid servant in every county through which he pa.s.sed; so that in Gras.p.a.cre Hall there were to be found maiden representatives in their native costumes, of all the different shires in South Wales, except Radnor, in which, the squire said, the barbarous jargon of Herefordshire, and the English cottons, had supplanted the native tongue and dress of Wales. There might you see the neat maiden of Pembrokeshire in her dark cloth dress of one hue, either a dark brown approximating to black, or a claret colour, made by the skill of a tailor, and very closely resembling the ladies' modern riding-habit,-a perfect picture of comfort and neatness, in alliance with good taste.

There would you see the extreme contrast, the Glamorganshire la.s.s in stockings cut off at the ankle, and without shoes; and, although a handsome brunette with fine black eyes, dressed in a slammatkin check wrapper of cotton and wool, utterly shapeless, and tied about the middle like a wheat-sheaf, or a f.a.ggot of wood; possessing, however, the peculiar convenience that it could be put on in an instant, without the loss of time in dressing tastefully, and that it would fit every body alike, as it is neither a gown nor a bedgown, but between both, and without a waist.

There would you see the young woman of Breconshire, with her pretty blushing face, half hidden in a handkerchief which envelops her head that at first you would fancy the figure before you to be a grandmother at least. Her long linsey gown is pinned up behind, each extreme corner being joined together in the centre, and confined a few inches below her waist; she has her wooden-soled shoes for every day, and leathern ones for Sunday, or for a dance, which, with her stockings, she very economically takes off should a shower of rain overtake her on a journey; and when it ceases, washes her feet in the first brook she meets, and puts them on again. Some might term this a curious method of appreciating the protective excellence of the shoemaker's art, but a Welsh girl, or rather, a Breconshire girl studies economy quite as much as comfort, and considers her shoes to be made as much for ornament as for use, and rather more.

This fair one takes especial care that her drapery shall be short enough to discover her pretty ankle, and her ap.r.o.n sufficiently scanty to disclose her gay red petticoat with black or white stripes, beneath, and at the sides. Then comes the stout Carmarthenshire la.s.s, with her thick bedgown and petticoat of a flaring brick-dust red, knitting stockings as she walks, and singing a loud song as she cards or spins.

Lastly, though not least in importance, behold the clogged and cloaked short-statured woman of Cardiganshire. She scorns the s.l.u.ttish garb and bare feet of the Glamorganshire maiden, and hates the abominable pride of the Pembrokeshire la.s.s who is vain enough to wear leathern shoes instead of honest clogs; proving at the same time that her own vanity is of a more pardonable stamp. "Thank G.o.d too, that she is not vain like the others are. Yet in her thanks shows vanity," while she boasts with truth, that her dress costs twice as much as either of the others. The Cardiganshire woman's dresses, in fact-generally blue, with red stripes and bound at the bottom with red or blue worsted caddis, are entirely of wool, solidly woven and heavy, consequently more expensive than those made of linsey or minco, or of the common intermixture of wool and cotton, and presenting an appearance of weighty warmth, equally independent of a comely cut and tasty neatness.

It was one of the squire's fancies never to call these girls by their proper names, but by that of their shires, as thus, "Come here little Pembroke, and buckle my shoe: and you Carmarthen, bring me a bason of broth; Cardigan, call Glamorgan and Brecon, and tell them they must drive a harrow a piece through the ploughed part of Rockfield."

On his return to dinner, a few days after the suggestion about the dresses of the maids, he was astonished to find that Mrs. Gras.p.a.cre had used her privilege with a vengeance; having with decided bad taste, put them all, _at their own expense_, to be deducted from their wages, into glaring cotton prints.

The girls were unhappy enough at this change, as well as at the expense thus incurred, and they could not enter the town without experiencing the ridicule of their friends and neighbours; the Cardiganshire maid, who considered such a change in the light of disowning her country, and like a renegade putting on the livery of the Saxon, in something of a termagant spirit, tendered her resignation to her master rather than comply with such an innovation.

This ungenerous invasion of his harmless rules, roused his indignation; and after venting a few "d.a.m.ns," _a la John Bull_, against draggle-tail cotton rags, without a word of expostulation with his rib, he desired the girls to bring all their trumpery to him, which they gladly did, and he made them instantly into a bonfire in the farm-yard. Then in a firm undertone of subdued resentment, gave strict injunctions that no further liberties should be taken with their national costume; to which his lady made the polite and submissive reply, that the girls might all walk abroad without any dress at all if he chose, and go to the devil his own way.

At this juncture little Pembroke came in with rosy smiles, and told her master that Carmarthen Jack wanted to speak to him very particularly, on which the squire laughed, and asked on what _important_ matter. "Why, sir," said the rustic beauty, while arch smiles and blushes contended in her sweet oval face, "Parson Inco has found out that he has been courting in bed, with Catty the schoolmistress, and he has run here before the parson to say it is all a falsehood."

"There's an impious rascal for you!" cried the lady of the house, "to charge the clergyman with a falsehood; but I am sure 'tis true, for I long suspected it."