Milton in L'Allegro alludes to this belief in the following lines:—

Tells how the drudging Goblin swet, To earn his cream-bowl duly set, When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn, That ten day-labourers could not end.

MILTON, L'Allegro, lines 105-9.

In Scotland the sprite, or Fairy, called Browny, haunted family abodes, and did all manner of work in the night for those who treated him kindly. In England, Robin Goodfellow was supposed to perform like functions. Thus sings Robin:—

Yet now and then, the maids to please, At midnight I card up their wooll; And while they sleepe, and take their ease, With wheel to threads their flax I pull. I grind at mill Their malt up still; I dress their hemp, I spin their tow. If any 'wake. And would me take, I wend me, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

Percy's Reliques, vol. iii., p. 169.

Welsh Fairies are not described as ordinarily inclined to lessen men's labours by themselves undertaking them; but there are a few tales current of their having assisted worthy persons in their manual works. Professor Rhys records one of these stories in Y Cymmrodor, vol. iv. 210. He writes thus:—

"One day Guto, the Farmer of Corwrion, complained to his wife that he was in need of men to mow his hay, and she answered, 'Why fret about it? look yonder! there you have a field full of them at it, and stripped to their shirt sleeves.' When he went to the spot the sham workmen of the Fairy family had disappeared. This same Guto, or somebody else, happened another time to be ploughing, when he heard some person he could not see calling out to him, 'I have got the bins (that is the vice) of my plough broken.' 'Bring it to me,' said the driver of Guto's team, 'that I may mend it.' When they brought the furrow to an end, there they found the broken vice, and a barrel of beer placed near it. One of the men sat down and mended it. Then they made another furrow, and when they returned to the spot they found there a two-eared dish, filled to the brim with bara a chwrw, or bread and beer."



FAIRY DANCES.

The one occupation of the Fairy folk celebrated in song and prose was dancing. Their green rings, circular or ovoidal in form, abounded in all parts of the country, and it was in these circles they were said to dance through the livelong night. In "Can y Tylwyth Teg," or the Fairies' Song, thus they chant:—

O'r glaswellt glen a'r rhedyn man, Gyfeillion dyddan, dewch, E ddarfu'r nawn—mae'r lloer yu llawn, Y nos yn gyflawn gewch; O'r chwarau sydd ar dwyn y dydd, I'r Dolydd awn ar daith. Nyni sydd lon, ni chaiff gerbron, Farwolion ran o'n gwaith.

Yr Hynafion Cymraeg, p. 153.

From grasses bright, and bracken light, Come, sweet companions, come, The full moon shines, the sun declines, We'll spend the night in fun; With playful mirth, we'll trip the earth, To meadows green let's go, We're full of joy, without alloy, Which mortals may not know.

The spots where the Fairies held their nightly revels were preserved from intrusion by traditional superstitions. The farmer dared not plough the land where Fairy circles were, lest misfortune should overtake him. Thus were these mythical beings left in undisturbed possession of many fertile plots of ground, and here they were believed to dance merrily through many a summer night.

Canu, canu, drwy y nos, Dawnsio, dawnsio, ar waen y rhos, Yn ngoleuni'r lleuad dlos; Hapus ydym ni!

Pawb o honom sydd yn llon, Heb un gofid dan ei fron: Canu, dawnsio, ar y ton— Dedwydd ydym ni!

Singing, singing, through the night, Dancing, dancing, with our might, Where the moon the moor doth light: Happy ever we!

One and all of merry mien, Without sorrow are we seen, Singing, dancing on the green: Gladsome ever we!

Professor Rhys's Fairy Tales.

These words correctly describe the popular opinion of Fairy dance and song, an opinion which reached the early part of the present century.

Since so much has reached our days of Fairy song and dance, it is not surprising that we are told that the beautiful Welsh melody, Toriad y Dydd, or the Dawn of Day, is the work of a Fairy minstrel, and that this song was chanted by the Fairy company just as the pale light in the east announced the approach of returning day.

Chaucer (1340 c. to 1400 c.), alluding to the Fairies and their dances, in his 'Wife of Bath's Tale,' writes:—

In olde dayes of King Artour, Of which the Bretons speken gret honour, All was this lond ful-filled of Faerie; The elf-quene with hire joly compagnie Danced ful oft in many a grene mede. This was the old opinion as I rede; I speke of many hundred yeres ago; But now can no man see non elves mo.

Tyrwhitt's Chaucer i., p. 256.

In the days of the Father of English poets, the elves had disappeared, and he speaks of "many hundred yeres ago," when he says that the Fairy Queen and her jolly company danced full often in many a green meadow.

Number 419 of the Spectator, published July 1st, 1712, states that formerly "every large common had a circle of Fairies belonging to it." Here again the past is spoken of, but in Wales it would seem that up to quite modern days some one, or other, was said to have seen the Fairies at their dance, or had heard of some one who had witnessed their gambols. Robert Roberts, Tycerrig, Clocaenog, enumerated several places, such as Nantddu, Clocaenog, Craig-fron-Bannog, on Mynydd Hiraethog, and Fron-y-Go, Llanfwrog, where the Fairies used to hold their revels, and other places, such as Moel Fammau, have been mentioned as being Fairy dancing ground. Many an aged person in Wales will give the name of spots dedicated to Fairy sports. Information of this kind is interesting, for it shows how long lived traditions are, and in a manner, places associated with the Fair Tribe bring these mysterious beings right to our doors.

I will now relate a few tales of mortals witnessing or joining in Fairy dances.

The first was related to me by David Roberts. The scene of the dance was the hill side by Pont Petrual between Ruthin and Cerrig-y-Drudion.

1. A Man who found himself on a Heap of Ferns after joining in a Fairy Dance.

A man who went to witness a Fairy dance was invited to join them. He did so, and all night long he greatly enjoyed himself. At the break of day the company broke up, and the Fairies took their companion with them. The man found himself in a beautiful hall with everything he could desire at his command, and here he pleasantly passed the time ere he retired to rest. In the morning when he awoke, instead of finding himself on a couch in Fairy Hall, be found himself lying on a heap of fern on the wild mountain side.

Although somewhat unfortunate, this man fared better than most men who joined the Fairy dances.

2. The Fairies threw dust into a Man's Eyes who Saw them Dance.

This tale is taken from Cymru Fu, p. 176, and is from the pen of Glasynys. I give it in English.

William Ellis, of Cilwern, was once fishing in Llyn Cwm Silin on a dark cloudy day, when he observed close by, in the rushes, a great number of men, or beings in the form of men, about a foot high, jumping and singing.

He watched them for hours, and he never heard in all his life such singing. But William went too near them, and they threw some kind of dust into his eyes, and whilst he was rubbing his eyes, the little family disappeared and fled somewhere out of sight and never afterwards was Ellis able to get a sight of them.

The next tale Glasynys shall relate in his own words. It appears in Cymru Fu immediately after the one just related.

3. A Man Dancing with the Fairies for Three Days.

"Y mae chwedl go debyg am le o'r enw Llyn-y-Ffynonau. Yr oedd yno rasio a dawnsio, a thelynio a ffidlo enbydus, a gwas o Gelli Ffrydau a'i ddau gi yn eu canol yn neidio ac yn prancio mor sionc a neb. Buont wrthi hi felly am dridiau a theirnos, yn ddi-dor-derfyn; ac oni bai bod ryw wr cyfarwydd yn byw heb fod yn neppell, ac i hwnw gael gwybod pa sut yr oedd pethau yn myned yn mlaen, y mae'n ddiddadl y buasai i'r creadur gwirion ddawnsio 'i hun i farwolaeth. Ond gwaredwyd of y tro hwn." This in English is as follows:—

"There is a tale somewhat like the preceding one told in connection with a place called Llyn-y-Ffynonau. There was there racing and dancing, and harping and furious fiddling, and the servant man of Gelli Ffrydau with his two dogs in their midst jumping and dancing like mad. There they were for three days and three nights without a break dancing as if for very life, and were it not that there lived near by a conjuror, who knew how things were going on, without a doubt the poor creature would have danced himself to death. But he was spared this time."

The next tale I received from Mr. David Lloyd, schoolmaster, Llanfihangel-Glyn-Myfyr, and he heard it in that parish.

4. A Harper and the Fairies.

There once lived in a remote part of Denbighshire, called Hafod Elwy, an old harper, named Shon Robert, who used to be invited to parties to play for the dancers, or to accompany the singers. One evening he went to Llechwedd Llyfn, in the neighbourhood of Cefn Brith, to hold a merry meeting, and it was late before the lads and lasses separated. At last the harper wended his way homeward. His path was over the bare mountain. As he came near a lake called Llyndau-ychain, he saw on its verge a grand palace, vividly illuminated. He was greatly surprised at the sight, for he had never seen such a building there before. He, however, proceeded on his way, and when he came in front of this beautiful palace he was hailed by a footman, and invited to enter. He accepted the invitation, and was ushered into a magnificent room, where a grand ball was being held. The guests surrounded the harper and became very friendly, and, to his wonder, addressed him by name. This hall was magnificently furnished. The furniture was of the most costly materials, many things were made of solid gold. A waiter handed him a golden cup filled with sparkling wine, which the harper gladly quaffed. He was then asked to play for the company, and this he did to the manifest satisfaction of the guests. By and by one of the company took Shon Robert's hat round and collected money for the harper's benefit, and brought it back to him filled with silver and gold. The feast was carried on with great pomp and merriment until near the dawn of day, when, one by one, the guests disappeared, and at last Shon was left alone. Perceiving a magnificent couch near, he laid himself thereon, and was soon fast asleep. He did not awake until mid-day, and then, to his surprise, he found himself lying on a heap of heather, the grand palace had vanished away, and the gold and silver, which he had transferred from his hat the night before into his bag, was changed to withered leaves.

The following tale told me by the Rev. R. Jones shows that those who witness a Fairy dance know not how time passes.

5. A Three Hours Fairy Dance seeming as a Few Minutes.

The Rev. R. Jones's mother, when a young unmarried woman, started one evening from a house called Tyddyn Heilyn, Penrhyndeudraeth, to her home, Penrhyn isaf, accompanied by their servant man, David Williams, called on account of his great strength and stature, Dafydd Fawr, Big David. David was carrying home on his back a flitch of bacon. The night was dark, but calm. Williams walked somewhat in the rear of his young mistress, and she, thinking he was following, went straight home. But three hours passed before David appeared with the pork on his back.

He was interrogated as to the cause of his delay, and in answer said he had only been about three minutes after his young mistress. He was told that she had arrived three hours before him, but this David would not believe. At length, however, he was convinced that he was wrong in his time, and then he proceeded to account for his lagging behind as follows:—

He observed, he said, a brilliant meteor passing through the air, which was followed by a ring or hoop of fire, and within this hoop stood a man and woman of small size, handsomely dressed. With one arm they embraced each other, and with the other they took hold of the hoop, and their feet rested on the concave surface of the ring. When the hoop reached the earth these two beings jumped out of it, and immediately proceeded to make a circle on the ground. As soon as this was done, a large number of men and women instantly appeared, and to the sweetest music that ear ever heard commenced dancing round and round the circle. The sight was so entrancing that the man stayed, as he thought, a few minutes to witness the scene. The ground all around was lit up by a kind of subdued light, and he observed every movement of these beings. By and by the meteor which had at first attracted his attention appeared again, and then the fiery hoop came to view, and when it reached the spot where the dancing was, the lady and gentleman who had arrived in it jumped into the hoop, and disappeared in the same manner in which they had reached the place. Immediately after their departure the Fairies vanished from sight, and the man found himself alone and in darkness, and then he proceeded homewards. In this way he accounted for his delay on the way.

In Mr. Sikes's British Goblins, pp. 79-81, is a graphic account of a mad dance which Tudur ap Einion Gloff had with the Fairies, or Goblins, at a place called Nant-yr-Ellyllon, a hollow half way up the hill to Castell Dinas Bran, in the neighbourhood of Llangollen. All night, and into the next day, Tudur danced frantically in the Nant, but he was rescued by his master, who understood how to break the spell, and release his servant from the hold the Goblins had over him! This he did by pronouncing certain pious words, and Tudur returned home with his master.

Mr. Evan Davies, carpenter, Brynllan, Efenechtyd, who is between seventy and eighty years old, informed the writer that his friend John Morris told him that he had seen a company of Fairies dancing, and that they were the handsomest men and women that he had ever seen. It was night and dark, but the place on which the dance took place was strangely illuminated, so that every movement of the singular beings could be observed, but when the Fairies disappeared it became suddenly quite dark.

Although from the tales already given it would appear that the Fairies held revelry irrespective of set times of meeting, still it was thought that they had special days for their great banquets, and the eve of the first of May, old style, was one of these days, and another was Nos Wyl Ifan, St. John's Eve, or the evening of June 23rd.

Thus sings Glasynys, in Y Brython, vol. iii. p. 270:—

Nos Wyl Ifan.

Tylwyth Teg yn lluoedd llawen, O dan nodded tawel Dwynwen, Welir yn y cel encilion, Yn perori mwyn alawon, Ac yn taenu hyd y twyni, Ac ar leiniau'r deiliog lwyni, Hud a Lledrith ar y glesni, Ac yn sibrwd dwyfol desni!

I am indebted to my friend Mr Richard Williams, F.R.H.S., Newtown, Montgomeryshire, for the following translation of the preceding Welsh lines:—

The Fairy Tribe in merry crowds, Under Dwynwen's calm protection, Are seen in shady retreats Chanting sweet melodies, And spreading over the bushes And the leafy groves Illusion and phantasy on all that is green, And whispering their mystic lore.

May-day dances and revelling have reached our days, and probably they have, like the Midsummer Eve's festivities, their origin in the far off times when the Fairy Tribe inhabited Britain and other countries, and to us have they bequeathed these Festivals, as well as that which ushers in winter, and is called in Wales, Nos glan gaua, or All Hallow Eve. If so, they have left us a legacy for which we thank them, and they have also given us a proof of their intelligence and love of nature.

But I will now briefly refer to Fairy doings on Nos Wyl Ifan as recorded by England's greatest poet, and, further on, I shall have more to say of this night.

Shakespeare introduces into his Midsummer Night's Dream the prevailing opinions respecting Fairies in England, but they are almost identical with those entertained by the people of Wales; so much so are they British in character, that it is no great stretch of the imagination to suppose that he must have derived much of his information from an inhabitant of Wales. However, in one particular, the poet's description of the Fairies differs from the more early opinion of them in Wales. Shakespeare's Fairies are, to a degree, diminutive; they are not so small in Wales. But as to their habits in both countries they had much in common. I will briefly allude to similarities between English and Welsh Fairies, confining my remarks to Fairy music and dancing.

To begin, both danced in rings. A Fairy says to Puck:—

And I serve the Fairy Queen To dew her orbs upon the green.

Midsummer Night's Dream, Act II., S I.

And allusion is made in the same play to these circles in these words:—

If you will patiently dance in our round And see our moonlight revels, go with us.

Act II., S. I.

Then again Welsh and English Fairies frequented like spots to hold their revels on. I quote from the same play:—

And now they never meet in grove or green, By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen.

Act II., S. I.

And again:—

And never since the middle summer's spring Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead By paved fountain or by rushy brook Or by the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind.

Act II., S. I

And further the Fairies in both countries meet at night, and hold their Balls throughout the hours of darkness, and separate in early morn. Thus Puck addressing Oberon:—

Fairy King, attend and hark; I do hear the morning lark.

Act IV., S. I.

Now until the break of day Through this house each Fairy stray . . . . . . . . . . . . Trip away, make no stay, Meet we all at break of day.

Act V., S. I.

In the Welsh tales given of Fairy dances the music is always spoken of as most entrancing, and Shakespeare in felicitous terms gives utterance to the same thought—

Music, lo! music, such as charmeth sleep.

I am indebted to the courtesy of the Rev. R. O. Williams, M.A., Vicar of Holywell, for the following singular testimony to Fairy dancing. The writer was the Rev. Dr. Edward Williams, at one time of Oswestry, and afterwards Principal of the Independent Academy at Rotherham in Yorkshire, who was born at Glan Clwyd, Bodfari, Nov. 14th, 1750, and died March 9, 1813. The extract is to be seen in the autobiography of Dr. Williams, which has been published, but the quotation now given is copied from the doctor's own handwriting, which now lies before me.

It may be stated that Mr. Wirt Sikes, in his British Goblins, refers to the Dwarfs of Cae Caled, Bodfari, as Knockers, but he was not justified, as will be seen from the extract, in thus describing them. For the sake of reference the incident shall be called—The Elf Dancers of Cae Caled.

The Elf Dancers of Cae Caled.

Dr. Edward Williams, under the year 1757, writes as follows:—

"I am now going to relate a circumstance in this young period of my life which probably will excite an alternate smile and thoughtful reflection, as it has often done in myself, however singular the fact and strong the evidence of its authenticity, and, though I have often in mature age called to my mind the principles of religion and philosophy to account for it, I am forced to class it among my unknowables. And yet I may say that not only the fact itself, but also the consideration of its being to my own mind inexplicable, has afforded some useful reflections, with which this relation need not be accompanied.

"On a fine summer day (about midsummer) between the hours of 12 at noon and one, my eldest sister and myself, our next neighbour's children Barbara and Ann Evans, both older than myself, were in a field called Cae Caled near their house, all innocently engaged at play by a hedge under a tree, and not far from the stile next to that house, when one of us observed on the middle of the field a company of—what shall I call them?—Beings, neither men, women, nor children, dancing with great briskness. They were full in view less than a hundred yards from us, consisting of about seven or eight couples: we could not well reckon them, owing to the briskness of their motions and the consternation with which we were struck at a sight so unusual. They were all clothed in red, a dress not unlike a military uniform, without hats, but their heads tied with handkerchiefs of a reddish colour, sprigged or spotted with yellow, all uniform in this as in habit, all tied behind with the corners hanging down their backs, and white handkerchiefs in their hands held loose by the corners. They appeared of a size somewhat less than our own, but more like dwarfs than children. On the first discovery we began, with no small dread, to question one another as to what they could be, as there were no soldiers in the country, nor was it the time for May dancers, and as they differed much from all the human beings we had ever seen. Thus alarmed we dropped our play, left our station, and made for the stile. Still keeping our eyes upon them we observed one of their company starting from the rest and making towards us with a running pace. I being the youngest was the last at the stile, and, though struck with an inexpressible panic, saw the grim elf just at my heels, having a full and clear, though terrific view of him, with his ancient, swarthy, and grim complexion. I screamed out exceedingly; my sister also and our companions set up a roar, and the former dragged me with violence over the stile on which, at the instant I was disengaged from it, this warlike Lilliputian leaned and stretched himself after me, but came not over. With palpitating hearts and loud cries we ran towards the house, alarmed the family, and told them our trouble. The men instantly left their dinner, with whom still trembling we went to the place, and made the most solicitous and diligent enquiry in all the neighbourhood, both at that time and after, but never found the least vestige of any circumstance that could contribute to a solution of this remarkable phenomenon. Were any disposed to question the sufficiency of this quadruple evidence, the fact having been uniformly and often attested by each of the parties and various and separate examinations, and call it a childish deception, it would do them no harm to admit that, comparing themselves with the scale of universal existence, beings with which they certainly and others with whom it is possible they may be surrounded every moment, they are but children of a larger size. I know but few less credulous than the relator, but he is no Sadducee. 'He who hath delivered will yet deliver.'"

My friend, Mr. R. Prys Jones, B.A., kindly informs me that he has several intelligent boys in his school, the Boys' Board School, Denbigh, from Bodfari, and to them he read the preceding story, but not one of them had ever heard of it. It is singular that the story should have died so soon in the neighbourhood that gave it birth.



FAIRY TRICKS WITH MORTALS.

It was formerly believed in Wales that the Fairies, for a little fun, sportively carried men in mid air from place to place, and, having conveyed them to a strange neighbourhood, left them to return to their homes as best they could. Benighted travellers were ever fearful of encountering a throng of Fairies lest they should by them be seized, and carried to a strange part of the country.

Allusion is made to this freak of the Fairies in the Cambro-Briton, vol. i., p. 348:—

"And it seems that there was some reason to be apprehensive of encountering these 'Fair people' in a mist; for, although allowed not to be maliciously disposed, they had a very inconvenient practice of seizing an unwary pilgrim, and hurrying him through the air, first giving him the choice, however, of travelling above wind, mid-wind, or below wind. If he chose the former, he was borne to an altitude somewhat equal to that of a balloon; if the latter, he had the full benefit of all the brakes and briars in his way, his contact with which seldom failed to terminate in his discomfiture. Experienced travellers, therefore, always kept in mind the advice of Apollo to Phaeton (In medio tutissimus ibis) and selected the middle course, which ensured them a pleasant voyage at a moderate elevation, equally removed from the branches and the clouds."

This description of an aerial voyage of a hapless traveller through Fairy agency corresponds with the popular faith in every particular, and it would not have been difficult some sixty, or so, years back, to have collected many tales in various parts of Wales of persons who had been subjected to this kind of conveyance.

The first mention that I have been able to find of this Fairy prank is in a small book of prose poetry called Gweledigaeth Cwrs y Byd, or Y Bardd Cwsg, which was written by the Revd. Ellis Wynne (born 1670-1, died 1734), rector of Llanfair, near Harlech. The "Visions of the Sleeping Bard" were published in 1703, and in the work appear many superstitions of the people, some of which shall by and by be mentioned.

In the very commencement of this work, the poet gives a description of a journey which he had made through the air with the Fairies. Addressing these beings, he says:—"Atolwg, lan gynnulleidfa, yr wyf yn deall mai rhai o bell ydych, a gymmerwch chwi Fardd i'ch plith sy'n chwennych trafaelio?" which in English is—"May it please you, comely assembly, as I understand that you come from afar, to take into your company a Bard who wishes to travel?"

The poet's request is granted, and then he describes his aerial passage in these words:—

"Codasant fi ar eu hysgwyddau, fel codi Marchog Sir; ac yna ymaith a ni fel y gwynt, tros dai a thiroedd, dinasoedd a theyrnasoedd, a moroedd a mynyddoedd, heb allu dal sylw ar ddim, gan gyflymed yr oeddynt yn hedeg." This translated is:—

"They raised me on their shoulders, as they do a Knight of the Shire, and away we went like the wind, over houses and fields, over cities and kingdoms, over seas and mountains, but I was unable to notice particularly anything, because of the rapidity with which they flew."

What the poet writes of his own flight with the Fairies depicts the then prevailing notions respecting aerial journeys by Fairy agencies, and they bear a striking resemblance to like stories in oriental fiction. That the belief in this form of transit survived the days of Bardd Cwsg will be seen from the following tale related by my friend Mr. E. Hamer in his Parochial Account of Llanidloes:—

A Man Carried Through the Air by the Fairies.

"One Edward Jones, or 'Ned the Jockey,' as he was familiarly called, resided, within the memory of the writer, in one of the roadside cottages a short distance from Llanidloes, on the Newtown road. While returning home late one evening, it was his fate to fall in with a troop of Fairies, who were not pleased to have their gambols disturbed by a mortal. Requesting him to depart, they politely offered him the choice of three means of locomotion, viz., being carried off by a 'high wind, middle wind, or low wind.' The jockey soon made up his mind, and elected to make his trip through the air by the assistance of a high wind. No sooner had he given his decision, than he found himself whisked high up into the air and his senses completely bewildered by the rapidity of his flight; he did not recover himself till he came in contact with the earth, being suddenly dropped in the middle of a garden near Ty Gough, on the Bryndu road, many miles distant from the spot whence he started on his aerial journey. Ned, when relating this story, would vouch for its genuineness in the most solemn manner, and the person who narrated it to the writer brought forward as a proof of its truth, 'that there was not the slightest trace of any person going into the garden while Ned was found in the middle of it.'"

Montgomeryshire Collections, vol. x., p. 247.

Mr. Hamer records another tale much like the foregoing, but the one I have given is a type of all such stories.

Fairy illusion and phantasy were formerly firmly believed in by the inhabitants of Wales. Fairies were credited with being able to deceive the eyesight, if not also the other senses of man. One illustrative tale of this kind I will now record. Like stories are heard in many parts. The following story is taken from Y Gordofigion, p. 99, a book which has more than once been laid under contribution.



FAIRY ILLUSIONS.

"Ryw dro yr oedd brodor o Nefyn yn dyfod adref o ffair Pwllheli, ac wrth yr Efail Newydd gwelai Inn fawreddog, a chan ei fod yn gwybod nad oedd yr un gwesty i fod yno, gofynodd i un o'r gweision os oedd ganddynt ystabl iddo roddi ei farch. Atebwyd yn gadarnhaol. Rhoddwyd y march yn yr ystabl, ac aeth yntau i mewn i'r ty, gofynodd am beint o gwrw, ac ni chafodd erioed well cwrw na'r cwrw hwnw. Yn mhen ychydig, gofynodd am fyned i orphwys, a chafodd hyny hefyd. Aeth i'w orweddle, yr hwn ydoedd o ran gwychder yn deilwng i'r brenhin; ond wchw fawr! erbyn iddo ddeffro, cafodd ei hun yn gorwedd ar ei hyd mewn tomen ludw, a'r ceffyl wedi ei rwymo wrth bolyn clawdd gwrysg."

This in English is as follows:—"Once upon a time a native of Nefyn was returning from Pwllheli fair, and when near Efail Newydd he saw a magnificent Inn, and, as he knew that no such public-house was really there, he went up to it and asked one of the servants whether they had a stable where he could put up his horse. He was answered in the affirmative. The horse was placed in the stable, and the man entered the house and asked for a pint of beer, which he thought was the best he had ever drunk. After awhile he inquired whether he could go to rest. This also was granted him, and he retired to his room, which in splendour was worthy of the king. But alas! when he awoke he found himself sleeping on his back on a heap of ashes, and the horse tied to a pole in the hedge."



FAIRY MEN CAPTURED.

There are many tales current of wee Fairy men having been captured. These tales are, however, evidently variants of the same story. The dwarfs are generally spoken of as having been caught by a trapper in his net, or bag, and the hunter, quite unconscious of the fact that a Fairy is in his bag, proceeds homewards, supposing that he has captured a badger, or some other kind of vermin, but, all at once, he hears the being in the bag speak, and throwing the bag down he runs away in a terrible fright. Such in short is the tale. I will proceed to give several versions of this story.

1. Gwyddelwern Version.

The following tale was told by Mr. Evan Roberts, Ffridd Agored, a farmer in the parish of Llanfwrog. Roberts heard the story when he was a youth in the parish of Gwyddelwern. It is as follows:—

A man went from his house for peat to the stack on the hill. As he intended to carry away only a small quantity for immediate use, he took with him a bag to carry it home. When he got to the hill he saw something running before him, and he gave chase and caught it and bundled it into the bag. He had not proceeded far on his way before he heard a small voice shout somewhere near him, "Neddy, Neddy." And then he heard another small voice in the bag saying, "There is daddy calling me." No sooner did the man hear these words than in a terrible fright he threw the bag down, and ran home as fast as he could.

2. The Llandrillo Version.

I am indebted for the following tale to Mr. E. S. Roberts, schoolmaster, Llantysilio, near Llangollen:—

Two men whilst otter-hunting in Gwyn Pennant, Llandrillo, saw something reddish scampering away across the ground just before them. They thought it was an otter, and watching it saw that it entered a hole by the side of the river. When they reached the place they found, underneath the roots of a tree, two burrows. They immediately set to work to catch their prey. Whilst one of the men pushed a long pole into one of the burrows, the other held the mouth of a sack to the other, and very shortly into the sack rushed their prey and it was secured. The men now went homewards, but they had not gone far, ere they heard a voice in the bag say, "My mother is calling me." The frightened men instantly threw the sack to the ground, and they saw a small man, clothed in red, emerge therefrom, and the wee creature ran away with all his might to the brushwood that grew along the banks of the river.

3. The Snowdon Version.

The following tale is taken from Y Gordofigion, p. 98:—

"Aeth trigolion ardaloedd cylchynol y Wyddfa un tro i hela pryf llwyd. Methasant a chael golwg ar yr un y diwrnod cyntaf; ond cynllwynasant am un erbyn trannoeth, trwy osod sach a'i cheg yn agored ar dwll yr arferai y pryf fyned iddo, ond ni byddai byth yn dyfod allan drwyddo am ei fod yn rhy serth a llithrig. A'r modd a gosodasant y sach oedd rhoddi cortyn trwy dyllau yn ei cheg, yn y fath fodd ag y crychai, ac y ceuai ei cheg pan elai rhywbeth iddi. Felly fu; aeth pawb i'w fan, ac i'w wely y noson hono. Gyda'r wawr bore dranoeth, awd i edrych y sach, ac erbyn dyfod ati yr oedd ei cheg wedi crychu, yn arwydd fod rhywbeth oddifewn. Codwyd hi, a thaflodd un hi ar ei ysgwydd i'w dwyn adref. Ond pan yn agos i Bryn y Fedw wele dorpyn o ddynan bychan yn sefyll ar delpyn o graig gerllaw ac yn gwaeddi, 'Meirig, wyt ti yna, dwad?' 'Ydwyf,' attebai llais dieithr (ond dychrynedig) o'r sach. Ar hyn, wele'r helwyr yn dechreu rhedeg ymaith, a da oedd ganddynt wneyd hyny, er gadael y sach i'r pryf, gan dybied eu bod wedi dal yn y sach un o ysbrydion y pwll diwaelod, ond deallasant ar ol hyny mai un o'r Tylwyth Teg oedd yn y sach."

The tale in English reads thus:—"Once the people who lived in the neighbourhood of Snowdon went badger-hunting. They failed the first day to get sight of one. But they laid a trap for one by the next day. This they did by placing a sack's open mouth with a noose through it at the entrance to the badger's den. The vermin was in the habit of entering his abode by one passage and leaving it by another. The one by which he entered was too precipitous and slippery to be used as an exit, and the trappers placed the sack in this hole, well knowing that the running noose in the mouth of the sack would close if anything entered. The next morning the hunters returned to the snare, and at once observed that the mouth of the sack was tightly drawn up, a sign that there was something in it. The bag was taken up and thrown on the shoulders of one of the men to be carried home. But when they were near Bryn y Fedw they saw a lump of a little fellow, standing on the top of a rock close by and shouting, 'Meirig, are you there, say?' 'I am,' was the answer in a strange but nervous voice. Upon this, the hunters, throwing down the bag, began to run away, and they were glad to do so, although they had to leave their sack behind them, believing, as they did, that they had captured one of the spirits of the bottomless pit. But afterwards they understood that it was one of the Fairy Tribe that was in the sack."

There was at one time a tale much like this current in the parish of Gyffylliog, near Ruthin, but in this latter case the voice in the bag said, "My father is calling me," though no one was heard to do so. The bag, however, was cast away, and the trapper reported that he had captured a Fairy!

4. The Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd Version.

Mr. Evan Davies, carpenter, Bryn Llan, Efenechtyd, told the writer that Robert Jones, innkeeper, in the same parish, told him the following tale, mentioning at the same time the man who figures in the narrative, whose name, however, I have forgotten. The story runs thus:—

A man, wishing to catch a fox, laid a bag with its mouth open, but well secured, at the entrance to a fox's den in Coed Cochion, Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd parish, and hid himself to await the result. He had seen the fox enter its lair, and he calculated that it would ere long emerge therefrom. By and by, he observed that something had entered the bag, and going up to it, he immediately secured its mouth, and, throwing the bag over his shoulder, proceeded homewards, but he had not gone far on his way before he heard someone say, "Where is my son John?" The man, however, though it was dark, was not frightened, for he thought that possibly some one was in search of a lad who had wandered from home. He was rather troubled to find that the question was repeated time after time by some one who apparently was following him. But what was his terror when, ere long, he heard a small voice issue from the bag he was carrying, saying "There is dear father calling me." The man in a terrible fright threw the bag down, and ran away as fast as his feet could carry him, and never stopped until he reached his home, and when he came to himself he related the story of his adventure in the wood to his wife.



FAIRIES IN MARKETS AND FAIRS.

It was once firmly believed by the Welsh that the Fairy Tribe visited markets and fairs, and that their presence made business brisk. If there was a buzz in the market place, it was thought that the sound was made by the Fairies, and on such occasions the farmers' wives disposed quickly of their commodities; if, however, on the other hand, there was no buzz, the Fairies were absent, and there was then no business transacted.

Mr. Richard Jones, Ty'n-y-Wern, Bryneglwys, who, when a youth, lived in Llanbedr parish, near Ruthin, informed the writer that his mother, after attending a market at Ruthin, would return home occasionally with the sad news that "They were not there," meaning that the Fairies were not present in the market, and this implied a bad market and no sweets for Richard. On the other hand, should the market have been a good one, she would tell them that "They filled the whole place," and the children always had the benefit of their presence.

This belief that the Fairies sharpened the market was, I think, general. I find in Y Gordofigion, p. 97, the following words:—

"Byddai y Tylwyth Teg yn arfer myned i farchnadoedd y Bala, ac yn gwneud twrw mawr heb i neb eu gweled, ac yr oedd hyny yn arwydd fod y farchnad ar godi," which is:—

The Fairies were in the habit of frequenting Bala markets, and they made a great noise, without any one seeing them, and this was a sign that the market was sharpening.



NAMES OF THINGS ATTRIBUTED TO THE FAIRIES.

Many small stone utensils found in the ground, the use, or the origin, of which was unknown to the finders, were formerly attributed to the Fairies. Thus, flint arrow-heads were called elf shots, from the belief that they once belonged to Elves or Fairies. And celts, and other stone implements, were, by the peasants of Wales and other places, ascribed to the same small folk. Very small clay pipes were also attributed to the same people. All this is curious evidence of a pre-existing race, which the Celts supplanted, and from whom, in many respects, they differed. Although we cannot derive much positive knowledge from an enumeration of the articles popularly associated with the Fairies, still, such a list, though an imperfect one, will not be void of interest. I will, therefore, describe certain pre-historic remains, which have been attributed to the aboriginal people of Britain.

Fairy Pipes.

Cetyn y Tylwyth Teg, or Fairy Pipes, are small clay pipes, with bowls that will barely admit the tip of the little finger. They are found in many places, generally with the stem broken off, though usually the bowl is perfect.

A short time ago I stayed awhile to talk with some workmen who were engaged in carting away the remains of a small farm house, once called Y Bwlch, in the parish of Efenechtyd, Denbighshire, and they told me that they had just found a Fairy Pipe, or, as they called it, Cetyn y Tylwyth Teg, which they gave me. A similar pipe was also picked up by Lewis Jones, Brynffynon, on Coed Marchan, in the same parish, when he was enclosing a part of the mountain allotted to his farm. In March, 1887, the workmen employed in taking down what were at one time buildings belonging to a bettermost kind of residence, opposite Llanfwrog Church, near Ruthin, also discovered one of these wee pipes. Pipes, identical in shape and size, have been found in all parts of Wales, and they are always known by the name of Cetyn y Tylwyth Teg, or Fairy Pipes.

In Shropshire they have also been discovered in the Fens, and the late Rev. Canon Lee, Hanmer, had one in his possession, which had been found in those parts, and, it was called a Fairy Pipe.

Fairy Whetstone.

The small spindle whorls which belong to the stone age, and which have been discovered in the circular huts, called Cyttiau'r Gwyddelod, which are the earliest remains of human abodes in Wales, are by the people called Fairy Whetstones, but, undoubtedly, this name was given them from their resemblance to the large circular whetstone at present in common use, the finders being ignorant of the original use of these whorls.

Fairy Hammer and Fairy or Elf Stones.

Stone hammers of small size have been ascribed to the Fairies, and an intelligent Welsh miner once told the writer that he had himself seen, in a very ancient diminutive mine level, stone hammers which, he said, had once belonged to the Fairies.

Other pre-historic implements, as celts, have been denominated Fairy remains. Under this head will come flint, or stone arrow-heads. These in Scotland are known by the name Elf Shots or Fairy Stones.

Pennant's Tour in Scotland, 1769, p. 115, has the following reference to these arrow-heads:—

"Elf Shots, i.e., the stone arrow-heads of the old inhabitants of this island, are supposed to be weapons shot by Fairies at cattle, to which are attributed any disorders they have."

Jamieson states in his Dictionary, under the heading Elf Shot:—"The Elf Shot or Elfin Arrow is still used in the Highlands as an amulet."

Tradition, in thus connecting stone implements with the Fairies, throws a dim light on the elfin community. But evidence is not wanting that the Celts themselves used stone utensils.

The things which shall now be mentioned, as being connected with the Fairies, owe their names to no foundation in fact, but are the offspring of a fanciful imagination, and are attributed to the Fairies in agreement with the more modern and grotesque notions concerning those beings and their doings. This will be seen when it is stated that the Fox Glove becomes a Fairy Glove, and the Mushroom, Fairy Food.

Ymenyn y Tylwyth Teg, or Fairy Butter.

I cannot do better than quote Pennant on this matter. His words are:—

"Petroleum, rock oil, or what the Welsh call it, Ymenin tylwyth teg, or Fairies' butter, has been found in the lime stone strata in our mineral country. It is a greasy substance, of an agreeable smell, and, I suppose, ascribed to the benign part of those imaginary beings. It is esteemed serviceable in rheumatic cases, rubbed on the parts affected. It retains a place in our dispensary."

Pennant's Whiteford, p. 131.



Bwyd Ellyllon, or Goblins' Food.

This was a kind of fungus or mushroom. The word is given in Dr. Owen Pughe's dictionary under the head Ellyll.

Menyg y Tylwyth Teg, Or Fairy Gloves.

The Fox Glove is so called, but in Dr. Owen Pughe's dictionary, under the head Ellyll, the Fox Glove is called Menyg Ellyllon.

Yr Ellyll Dan, or Goblin Fire.

The Rev. T. H. Evans, in his History of the Parish of Llanwddyn, states that in that parish "Will of the Wisp" is called "Yr Ellyll Dan." This is indeed the common name for the Ignis fatuus in most, if not in all parts of Wales, but in some places where English is spoken it is better known by the English term, "Jack o' Lantern," or "Jack y Lantern."

Rhaffau'r Tylwyth Teg, or the Ropes of the Fairies.

Professor Rhys, in his Welsh Fairy Tales—Y Cymmrodor vol. v., p. 75—says, that gossamer, which is generally called in North Wales edafedd gwawn, or gwawn yarn, used to be called, according to an informant, Rhaffau'r Tylwyth Teg, that is to say, the Ropes of the Fair Family, thus associating the Fairies with marshy, or rushy, places, or with ferns and heather as their dwelling places. It was supposed that if a man lay down to sleep in such places the Fairies would come and bind him with their ropes, and cover him with a gossamer sheet, which would make him invisible, and incapable of moving.



FAIRY KNOCKERS, OR COBLYNAU.

The Coblynau or Knockers were supposed to be a species of Fairies who had their abode in the rocks, and whose province it was to indicate by knocks, and other sounds, the presence of ore in mines.

It would seem that many people had dim traditions of a small race who had their dwellings in the rocks. This wide-spread belief in the existence of cave men has, in our days, been shown to have had a foundation in fact, and many vestiges of this people have been revealed by intelligent cave hunters. But the age in which the cave men lived cannot even approximately be ascertained. In various parts of Wales, in the lime rock, their abodes have been brought to light. It is not improbable that the people who occupied the caves of ancient days were, in reality, the original Fairy Knockers. These people were invested, in after ages, by the wonder-loving mind of man, with supernatural powers.

AEschylus, the Greek tragic poet, who died in the 69th year of his age, B.C. 456, in Prometheus Vinctus, refers to cave dwellers in a way that indicates that even then they belonged to a dateless antiquity.

In Prometheus's speech to the chorus—[Greek]—lines 458-461, is a reference to this ancient tradition. His words, put into English, are these:—"And neither knew the warm brick-built houses exposed to the sun, nor working in wood, but they dwelt underground, like as little ants, in the sunless recesses of caves."

The above quotation proves that the Greeks had a tradition that men in a low, or the lowest state of civilization, had their abodes in caves, and possibly the reference to ants would convey the idea that the cave dwellers were small people. Be this as it may, it is very remarkable that the word applied to a dwarf in the dialects of the northern countries of Europe signifies also a Fairy, and the dwarfs, or Fairies, are there said to inhabit the rocks. The following quotation from Jamieson's Scottish Dictionary under the word Droich, a dwarf, a pigmy, shows this to have been the case:—

"In the northern dialects, dwerg does not merely signify a dwarf, but also a Fairy! The ancient Northern nations, it is said, prostrated themselves before rocks, believing that they were inhabited by these pigmies, and that they thence gave forth oracles. Hence they called the echo dwergamal, as believing it to be their voice or speech. . . They were accounted excellent artificers, especially as smiths, from which circumstance some suppose that they have received their name . . . Other Isl. writers assert that their ancestors did not worship the pigmies as they did the genii or spirits, also supposed to reside in the rocks."

Bishop Percy, in a letter to the Rev. Evan Evans (Ieuan Prydydd Hir), writes:—

"Nay, I make no doubt but Fairies are derived from the Duergar, or Dwarfs, whose existence was so generally believed among all the northern nations."

The Cambro-Briton, vol. i., p. 331.

And again in Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. iii., p. 171, are these remarks:—

"It is well known that our Saxon ancestors, long before they left their German forests, believed in the existence of a kind of diminutive demons, or middle species between men and spirits, whom they called Duergar, or Dwarfs, and to whom they attributed wonderful performances, far exceeding human art."

Pennant, in his Tour in Scotland, 1772, pp. 55-56, when describing the collieries of Newcastle, describes the Knockers thus:—

"The immense caverns that lay between the pillars exhibited a most gloomy appearance. I could not help enquiring here after the imaginary inhabitant, the creation of the labourer's fancy,

The swart Fairy of the mine;

and was seriously answered by a black fellow at my elbow that he really had never met with any, but that his grandfather had found the little implements and tools belonging to this diminutive race of subterraneous spirits. The Germans believed in two species; one fierce and malevolent, the other a gentle race, appearing like little old men, dressed like the miners, and not much above two feet high; these wander about the drifts and chambers of the works, seem perpetually employed, yet do nothing. Some seem to cut the ore, or fling what is cut into vessels, or turn the windlass, but never do any harm to the miners, except provoked; as the sensible Agricola, in this point credulous, relates in his book, de Animantibus Subterraneis."

Jamieson, under the word Farefolkis, writes:—"Besides the Fairies, which are more commonly the subject of popular tradition, it appears that our forefathers believed in the existence of a class of spirits under this name that wrought in the mines;" and again, quoting from a work dated 1658, the author of which says:—

"In northerne kingdomes there are great armies of devils that have their services which they perform with the inhabitants of these countries, but they are most frequent in rocks and mines, where they break, cleave, and make them hollow; which also thrust in pitchers and buckets, and carefully fit wheels and screws, whereby they are drawn upwards; and they show themselves to the labourers, when they list, like phantoms and ghosts."

The preceding quotations from Pennant and Jamieson correspond with the Welsh miners' ideas of the Coblynau, or Knockers. There is a difficulty in tracing to their origin these opinions, but, on the whole, I am strongly inclined to say that they have come down to modern times from that remote period when cave-men existed as a distinct people.

But now let us hear what our Welsh miners have to say about the Coblynau. I have spoken to several miners on this subject, and, although they confessed that they had not themselves heard these good little people at work, still they believed in their existence, and could name mines in which they had been heard. I was told that they are generally heard at work in new mines, and that they lead the men to the ore by knocking in its direction, and when the lode is reached the knocking ceases.

But the following extracts from two letters written by Lewis Morris, a well-known and learned Welshman, fully express the current opinion of miners in Wales respecting Knockers. The first letter was written Oct. 14, 1754, and the latter is dated Dec. 4, 1754. They appear in Bingley's North Wales, vol. ii., pp. 269-272. Lewis Morris writes:—

"People who know very little of arts or sciences, or the powers of nature (which, in other words, are the powers of the author of nature), will laugh at us Cardiganshire miners, who maintain the existence of Knockers in mines, a kind of good natured impalpable people not to be seen, but heard, and who seem to us to work in the mines; that is to say, they are the types or forerunners of working in mines, as dreams are of some accidents, which happen to us. The barometer falls before rain, or storms. If we do not know the construction of it, we should call it a kind of dream that foretells rain; but we know it is natural, and produced by natural means, comprehended by us. Now, how are we sure, or anybody sure, but that our dreams are produced by the same natural means? There is some faint resemblance of this in the sense of hearing; the bird is killed before we hear the report of the gun. However this is, I must speak well of the Knockers, for they have actually stood my good friends, whether they are aerial beings called spirits, or whether they are a people made of matter, not to be felt by our gross bodies, as air and fire and the like.

"Before the discovery of the Esgair y Mwyn mine, these little people, as we call them here, worked hard there day and night; and there are abundance of honest, sober people, who have heard them, and some persons who have no notion of them or of mines either; but after the discovery of the great ore they were heard no more.

"When I began to work at Llwyn Llwyd, they worked so fresh there for a considerable time that they frightened some young workmen out of the work. This was when we were driving levels, and before we had got any ore; but when we came to the ore, they then gave over, and I heard no more talk of them.

"Our old miners are no more concerned at hearing them blasting, boring holes, landing deads, etc., than if they were some of their own people; and a single miner will stay in the work, in the dead of the night, without any man near him, and never think of any fear or of any harm they will do him. The miners have a notion that the Knockers are of their own tribe and profession, and are a harmless people who mean well. Three or four miners together shall hear them sometimes, but if the miners stop to take notice of them, the Knockers will also stop; but, let the miners go on at their work, suppose it is boring, the Knockers will at the same time go on as brisk as can be in landing, blasting, or beating down the loose, and they are always heard a little distance from them before they come to the ore.

"These are odd assertions, but they are certainly facts, though we cannot, and do not pretend to account for them. We have now very good ore at Llwyn Llwyd, where the Knockers were heard to work, but have now yielded up the place, and are no more heard. Let who will laugh, we have the greatest reason to rejoice, and thank the Knockers, or rather God, who sends us these notices."

The second letter is as follows:—

"I have no time to answer your objection against Knockers; I have a large treatise collected on that head, and what Mr. Derham says is nothing to the purpose. If sounds of voices, whispers, blasts, working, or pumping, can be carried on a mile underground, they should always be heard in the same place, and under the same advantages, and not once in a month, a year, or two years. Just before the discovery of ore last week, three men together in our work at Llwyn Llwyd were ear-witnesses of Knockers pumping, driving a wheelbarrow, etc.; but there is no pump in the work, nor any mine within less than a mile of it, in which there are pumps constantly going. If they were these pumps that they had heard, why were they never heard but that once in the space of a year? And why are they not now heard? But the pumps make so little noise that they cannot be heard in the other end of Esgair y Mwyn mine when they are at work.

"We have a dumb and deaf tailor in this neighbourhood who has a particular language of his own by signs, and by practice I can understand him, and make him understand me pretty well, and I am sure I could make him learn to write, and be understood by letters very soon, for he can distinguish men already by the letters of their names. Now letters are marks to convey ideas, just after the same manner as the motion of fingers, hands, eyes, etc. If this man had really seen ore in the bottom of a sink of water in a mine, and wanted to tell me how to come at it, he would take two sticks like a pump, and would make the motions of a pumper at the very sink where he knew the ore was, and would make the motions of driving a wheelbarrow. And what I should infer from thence would be that I ought to take out the water and sink or drive in the place, and wheel the stuff out. By parity of reasoning, the language of Knockers, by imitating the sound of pumping, wheeling, etc., signifies that we should take out the water and drive there. This is the opinion of all old miners, who pretend to understand the language of the Knockers. Our agent and manager, upon the strength of this notice, goes on and expects great things. You, and everybody that is not convinced of the being of Knockers, will laugh at these things, for they sound like dreams; so does every dark science. Can you make any illiterate man believe that it is possible to know the distance of two places by looking at them? Human knowledge is but of small extent, its bounds are within our view, we see nothing beyond these; the great universal creation contains powers, etc., that we cannot so much as guess at. May there not exist beings, and vast powers infinitely smaller than the particles of air, to whom air is as hard a body as the diamond is to us? Why not? There is neither great nor small, but by comparison. Our Knockers are some of these powers, the guardians of mines.

"You remember the story in Selden's Table-Talk of Sir Robert Cotton and others disputing about Moses's shoe. Lady Cotton came in and asked, 'Gentlemen, are you sure it is a shoe?' So the first thing is to convince mankind that there is a set of creatures, a degree or so finer than we are, to whom we have given the name of Knockers from the sounds we hear in our mines. This is to be done by a collection of their actions well attested, and that is what I have begun to do, and then let everyone judge for himself."

The preceding remarks, made by an intelligent and reliable person, conversant with mines, and apparently uninfluenced by superstition, are at least worthy of consideration. The writer of these interesting letters states positively that sounds were heard; whether his attempt to solve the cause of these noises is satisfactory, and conclusive, is open to doubt. We must believe the facts asserted, although disagreeing with the solution of the difficulty connected with the sounds. Miners in all parts of England, Scotland, Wales, Germany, and other parts, believe in the existence of Knockers, whatever these may be, and here, as far as I am concerned, I leave the subject, with one remark only, which is, that I have never heard it said that anyone in Wales ever saw one of these Knockers. In this they differ from Fairies, who, according to popular notions, have, time and again, been seen by mortal eyes; but this must have been when time was young.

The writer is aware that Mr. Sikes, in his British Goblins, p. 28, gives an account of Coblynau or Knockers which he affirms had been seen by some children who were playing in a field in the parish of Bodfari, near Denbigh, and that they were dancing like mad, and terribly frightened the children. But in the autobiography of Dr. Edward Williams, already referred to, p. 98, whence Mr. Sikes derived his information of the Dwarfs of Cae Caled, they are called "Beings," and not Coblynau.

Before concluding my remarks on Fairy Knockers I will give one more quotation from Bingley, who sums up the matter in the following words:—

"I am acquainted with the subject only from report, but I can assure my readers that I found few people in Wales that did not give full credence to it. The elucidation of these extraordinary facts must be left to those persons who have better opportunities of inquiring into them than I have. I may be permitted to express a hope that the subject will not be neglected, and that those who reside in any neighbourhood where the noises are heard will carefully investigate their cause, and, if possible, give to the world a more accurate account of them than the present. In the year 1799 they were heard in some mines in the parish of Llanvihangel Ysgeiviog, in Anglesea, where they continued, at intervals, for some weeks."

Bingley's North Wales, vol. ii., p. 275.

In conclusion, I may remark that in living miners' days, as already stated, Knockers have not been heard. Possibly Davy's Safety Lamp and good ventilation have been their destruction. Their existence was believed in when mining operations, such as now prevail, were unknown, and their origin is to be sought for among the dim traditions that many countries have of the existence of small cave men.

The Pwka, or Pwca.

Another imaginary being, closely allied to the Fairy family, was the Pwka. He seems to have possessed many of the mischievous qualities of Shakespeare's Puck, whom, also, he resembled in name, and it is said that the Pwka, in common with the Brownie, was a willing worker.

The Rev. Edmund Jones in his Book of Apparitions gives an account of one of these goblins, which visited the house of Job John Harry, who lived at a place called the Trwyn, and hence the visitor is called Pwka'r Trwyn, and many strange tales are related of this spirit. The writer of the Apparitions states that the spirit stayed in Job's house from some time before Christmas until Easter Wednesday. He writes:—"At first it came knocking at the door, chiefly by night, which it continued to do for a length of time, by which they were often deceived, by opening it. At last it spoke to one who opened the door, upon which they were much terrified, which being known, brought many of the neighbours to watch with the family. T. E. foolishly brought a gun with him to shoot the spirit, as he said, and sat in the corner. As Job was coming home that night the spirit met him, and told him that there was a man come to the house to shoot him, 'but,' said he, 'thou shalt see how I will beat him.' As soon as Job was come to the house stones were thrown at the man that brought the gun, from which he received severe blows. The company tried to defend him from the blows of the stones, which did strike him and no other person; but it was in vain, so that he was obliged to go home that night, though it was very late; he had a great way to go. When the spirit spoke, which was not very often, it was mostly out of the oven by the hearth's side. He would sometimes in the night make music with Harry Job's fiddle. One time he struck the cupboard with stones, the marks of which were to be seen, if they are not there still. Another time he gave Job a gentle stroke upon his toe, when he was going to bed, upon which Job said, 'Thou art curious in smiting,' to which the spirit answered, 'I can smite thee where I please.' They were at length grown fearless and bold to speak to it, and its speeches and actions were a recreation to them, seeing it was a familiar kind of spirit which did not hurt them, and informed them of some things which they did not know. One old man, more bold than wise, on hearing the spirit just by him, threatened to stick him with his knife, to which he answered, 'Thou fool, how can thou stick what thou cannot see with thine eyes.' The spirit told them that he came from Pwll-y-Gaseg, i.e., Mare's Pit, a place so called in the adjacent mountain, and that he knew them all before he came there. . . . On Easter Wednesday he left the house and took his farewell in these words:—'Dos yn iack, Job,' i.e., 'Farewell, Job,' to which Job said, 'Where goest thou?' He was answered, 'Where God pleases.'"

The Pwka was credited with maliciously leading benighted men astray. He would appear with a lantern or candle in hand, some little distance in front of the traveller, and without any exertion keep ahead of him, and leading him through rocky and dangerous places, would suddenly, with an ironical laugh blow out the candle, and disappear, and leave the man to his fate.

The following tale, taken from Croker's Fairy Legends of Ireland, vol. ii., pp. 231-3, well illustrates this mischievous trait in the character of the Pwka. The writer has seen the tale elsewhere, but as it differs only slightly from that recorded by Croker, he gives it in the words of this author. His words are as follows:—

"Cwm Pwcca, or the Pwcca's Valley, forms part of the deep and romantic glen of the Clydach, which, before the establishment of the iron works of Messrs. Frere and Powell, was one of the most secluded spots in Wales, and therefore well calculated for the haunt of goblins and fairies; but the bustle of a manufactory has now in a great measure scared these beings away, and of late it is very rarely that any of its former inhabitants, the Pwccas, are seen. Such, however, is their attachment to their ancient haunt, that they have not entirely deserted it, as there was lately living near this valley a man who used to assert that he had seen one, and had a narrow escape of losing his life, through the maliciousness of the goblin. As he was one night returning home over the mountain from his work, he perceived at some distance before him a light, which seemed to proceed from a candle in a lantern, and upon looking more attentively, he saw what he took to be a human figure carrying it, which he concluded to be one of his neighbours likewise returning from his work. As he perceived that the figure was going the same way with himself, he quickened his pace in order that he might overtake him, and have the benefit of his light to descend the steep and rocky path which led into the valley; but he rather wondered that such a short person as appeared to carry the lantern should be able to walk so fast. However, he re-doubled his exertions, determined to come up with him, and although he had some misgivings that he was not going along the usual track, yet he thought that the man with the lantern must know better than himself, and he followed the direction taken by him without further hesitation. Having, by dint of hard walking, overtaken him, he suddenly found himself on the brink of one of the tremendous precipices of Cwm Pwcca, down which another step would have carried him headlong into the roaring torrent beneath. And, to complete his consternation, at the very instant he stopped, the little fellow with the lantern made a spring right across the glen to the opposite side, and there, holding up the light above his head, turned round and uttered with all his might a loud and most malicious laugh, upon which he blew out his candle, and disappeared up the opposite hill."

This spirit is also said to have assisted men in their labours, and servant girls and servant men often had their arduous burdens lightened by his willing hands. But he punished those who offended him in a vindictive manner. The Pwka could hide himself in a jug of barm or in a ball of yarn, and when he left a place, it was for ever.

In the next chapter I will treat of another phase of legendary lore, which, although highly imaginative, seems to intimate that the people who transmitted these tales had some knowledge, though an exaggerated one, of a people and system which they supplanted.



FAIRY, OR MYTHIC ANIMALS.

From the Myddvai Legend it would appear that the Fairies possessed sheep, cattle, goats, and horses, and from other tales we see that they had dogs, etc. Their stock, therefore, was much like that of ordinary farmers in our days. But Fairy animals, like their owners, have, in the course of ages, been endowed with supernatural powers. In this chapter shall be given a short history of these mythical animals.

Cwn Annwn, or Dogs of the Abyss.

The words Cwn Annwn are variously translated as Dogs of Hell, Dogs of Elfinland. In some parts of Wales they are called Cwn Wybir, Dogs of the Sky, and in other places Cwn Bendith Y Mamau. We have seen that "Bendith y Mamau" is a name given to the Fairies, and in this way these dogs become Fairy Dogs.

A description of these Fairy dogs is given in Y Brython, vol. iii p. 22. Briefly stated it is as follows:—Cwn Bendith y Mamau were a pack of small hounds, headed by a large dog. Their howl was something terrible to listen to, and it foretold death. At their approach all other dogs ceased barking, and fled before them in terror, taking refuge in their kennels. The birds of the air stopped singing in the groves when they heard their cry, and even the owl was silent when they were near. The laugh of the young, and the talk at the fireside were hushed when the dreadful howl of these Hell hounds was heard, and pale and trembling with fear the inmates crowded together for mutual protection. And what was worse than all, these dogs often foretold a death in some particular family in the neighbourhood where they appeared, and should a member of this family be in a public-house, or other place of amusement, his fright would be so great that he could not move, believing that already had death seized upon some one in his house.

The Fairy dogs howled more at Cross-roads, and such like public places, than elsewhere. And woe betide any one who stood in their way, for they bit them, and were likely even to drag a man away with them, and their bite was often fatal. They collected together in huge numbers in the churchyard where the person whose death they announced was to be buried, and, howling around the place that was to be his grave, disappeared on that very spot, sinking there into the earth, and afterwards they were not to be seen.

A somewhat different description of Cwn Annwn is given in the Cambro-Briton, vol. i., p. 350. Here we are told that "these terrific animals are supposed to be devils under the semblance of hunting dogs . . . and they are usually accompanied by fire in some form or other. Their appearance is supposed to indicate the death of some friend or relative of the person to whom they shew themselves. They have never been known to commit any mischief on the persons of either man or woman, goat, sheep, or cow, etc."

In Motley's Tales of the Cymry, p. 58, that author says:—"I have met with but a few old people who still cherished a belief in these infernal hounds which were supposed after death to hunt the souls of the wretched to their allotted place of torment."

It was, however, once firmly and generally believed, that these awful creatures could be heard of a wild stormy night in full cry pursuing the souls of the unbaptized and unshriven. Mr. Chapman, Dolfor, near Newtown, Montgomeryshire, writes to me thus:—"These mysterious animals are never seen, only heard. A whole pack were recently heard on the borders of Radnorshire and Montgomeryshire. They went from the Kerry hills towards the Llanbadarn road, and a funeral quickly followed the same route. The sound was similar to that made by a pack of hounds in full cry, but softer in tone."

The Rev. Edmund Jones, in his work entitled "An Account of Apparitions of Spirits in the county of Monmouth," says that, "The nearer these dogs are to a man, the less their voice is, and the farther the louder, and sometimes, like the voice of a great hound, or like that of a blood hound, a deep hollow voice." It is needless to say that this gentleman believed implicitly in the existence of Cwn Annwn, and adduces instances of their appearance.

The following is one of his tales:—

"As Thomas Andrews was coming towards home one night with some persons with him, he heard, as he thought, the sound of hunting. He was afraid it was some person hunting the sheep, so he hastened on to meet, and hinder them; he heard them coming towards him, though he saw them not. When they came near him, their voices were but small, but increasing as they went from him; they went down the steep towards the river Ebwy, dividing between this parish and Mynyddislwyn, whereby he knew they were what are called Cwn wybir (Sky dogs), but in the inward part of Wales Cwn Annwn (Dogs of Hell). I have heard say that these spiritual hunting-dogs have been heard to pass by the eaves of several houses before the death of someone in the family. Thomas Andrews was an honest, religious man, and would not have told an untruth either for fear or for favour."

The colour of these dogs is variously given, as white, with red ears, and an old man informed Mr. Motley that their colour was blood-red, and that they always were dripping with gore, and that their eyes and teeth were of fire. This person confessed that he had never seen these dogs, but that he described them from what he had heard.—Tales of the Cymry, p. 60. There is in The Cambro-Briton, vol. ii., p. 271, another and more natural description of Cwn Annwn. It is there stated that Pwyll, prince of Dyved, went out to hunt, and:—

"He sounded his horn and began to enter upon the chase, following his dogs and separating from his companions. And, as he was listening to the cry of his pack, he could distinctly hear the cry of another pack, different from that of his own, and which was coming in an opposite direction. He could also discern an opening in the wood towards a level plain; and as his pack was entering the skirt of the opening, he perceived a stag before the other pack, and about the middle of the glade the pack in the rear coming up and throwing the stag on the ground; upon this be fixed his attention on the colour of the pack without recollecting to look at the stag; and, of all the hounds in the world he had ever seen, he never saw any like them in colour. Their colour was a shining clear white, with red ears; and the whiteness of the dogs, and the redness of their ears, were equally conspicuous."

We are informed that these dogs belonged to Arawn, or the silver-tongued King of Annwn, of the lower or southern regions. In this way these dogs are identified with the creatures treated of in this chapter. But their work was less weird than soul-hunting.

A superstition akin to that attached to Cwn Annwn prevails in many countries, as in Normandy and Bretagne. In Devonshire, the Wish, or Wisked Hounds, were once believed in, and certain places on Dartmoor were thought to be their peculiar resort, and it was supposed that they hunted on certain nights, one of which was always St. John's Eve. These terrible creations of a cruel mind indicate a phase of faith antagonistic to, and therefore more ancient than, Christianity.

With another quotation from Tales of the Cymry (p. 61-62), I will conclude my remarks:—

"In the north of Devon the spectral pack are called Yesh hounds and Yell hounds. There is another legend, evidently of Christian origin, which represents them in incessant pursuit of a lost spirit. In the northern quarter of the moor the Wish hounds, in pursuit of the spirit of a man who had been well known in the country, entered a cottage, the door of which had been incautiously left open, and ran round the kitchen, but quietly, without their usual cry. The Sunday after the same man appeared in church, and the person whose house the dogs had entered, made bold by the consecrated place in which they were, ventured to ask why he had been with the Wish hounds. 'Why should not my spirit wander,' he replied, 'as well as another man's?' Another version represents the hounds as following the spirit of a beautiful woman, changed into the form of a hare; and the reader will find a similar legend, with some remarkable additions, in the Disquisitiones Magicae of the Jesuit Delrio, lib. vi., c.2."

The preceding paragraph is from the pen of "R.J.K.," and appears in the Athenaeum, March 27, 1847, Art. Folk-lore.

The Fairy Cow.

There are many traditions afloat about a wonderful cow, that supplied whole neighbourhoods with milk, which ceased when wantonly wasted. In some parts of England this is called the Dun Cow; in Shropshire she becomes also the White Cow; in Wales she is, Y Fuwch Frech, or Y Fuwch Gyfeiliorn. This mystic cow has found a home in many places. One of these is the wild mountain land between Llanfihangel Glyn Myfyr and a hamlet called Clawdd Newydd about four miles from Ruthin. About midway between these two places is a bridge called Pontpetrual, and about half a mile from the bridge to the north is a small mountain farm called Cefn Bannog, and near this farm, but on the unenclosed mountain, are traces of primitive abodes, and it was here that, tradition says, the Fuwch Frech had her home. But I will now give the history of this strange cow as I heard it from the mouth of Thomas Jones, Cefn Bannog.

Y Fuwch Frech. The Freckled Cow.

In ages long gone by, my informant knew not how long ago, a wonderful cow had her pasture land on the hill close to the farm, called Cefn Bannog, after the mountain ridge so named. It would seem that the cow was carefully looked after, as indicated by the names of places bearing her name. The site of the cow house is still pointed out, and retains its name, Preseb y Fuwch Frech—the Crib of the Freckled Cow. Close to this place are traces of a small enclosure called Gwal Erw y Fuwch Frech, or the Freckled Cow's Meadow. There is what was once a track way leading from the ruins of the cow house to a spring called Ffynon y Fuwch Frech, or the Freckled Cow's Well, and it was, tradition says, at this well that the cow quenched her thirst. The well is about 150 yards from the cow house. Then there is the feeding ground of the cow called, Waen Banawg, which is about half a mile from the cow house. There are traces of walls several feet thick in these places. The spot is a lonely one, but ferns and heather flourish luxuriantly all about this ancient homestead. It is also said that this cow was the mother of the Ychain Banawg, or large-horned oxen. But now to proceed to the tradition that makes the memory of this cow dear to the inhabitants of the Denbighshire moorland.

Old people have transmitted from generation to generation the following strange tale of the Freckled Cow. Whenever any one was in want of milk they went to this cow, taking with them a vessel into which they milked the cow, and, however big this vessel was, they always departed with the pail filled with rich milk, and it made no difference, however often she was milked, she could never be milked dry. This continued for a long time, and glad indeed the people were to avail themselves of the inexhaustible supply of new milk, freely given to them all. At last a wicked hag, filled with envy at the people's prosperity, determined to milk the cow dry, and for this purpose she took a riddle with her, and milked and milked the cow, until at last she could get no more milk from her. But, sad to say, the cow immediately, upon this treatment, left the country, and was never more seen. Such is the local history of the Freckled Cow.

Tradition further states that she went straight to a lake four miles off, bellowing as she went, and that she was followed by her two children the Dau Eidion Banawg, the two long-horned oxen, to Llyn dau ychain, the Lake of the Two Oxen, in the parish of Cerrig-y-drudion, and that she entered the lake and the two long-horned oxen, bellowing horribly, went, one on either side the lake, and with their mother disappeared within its waters, and none were ever afterwards seen.

Notwithstanding that tradition buries these celebrated cattle in this lake, I find in a book published by Dr. John Williams, the father of the Rev. John Williams, M.A., Vicar of Llanwddyn, in the year 1830, on the "Natural History of Llanrwst," the following statement. The author in page 17, when speaking of Gwydir, says:—

"In the middle court (which was once surrounded by the house), there is a large bone, which appears to be the rib of some species of whale, but according to the vulgar opinion, it is the rib of the Dun Cow (y Fuwch Frech), killed by the Earl of Warwick."

It may be stated that Llanrwst is not many miles distant from Cerrig-y-drudion and yet we have in these places conflicting traditions, which I will not endeavour to reconcile.

The Shropshire tale of the Fairy Cow is much the same as the preceding. There she is known as _The White Cow of _Mitchell's Fold_. This place is situated on the Corndon Hill, a bare moorland in the extreme west of Shropshire. To this day there is to be seen there a stone circle known as Mitchell's Fold.

The story of the Shropshire Cow is this. There was a dire famine in those parts, and the people depended for support on a beautiful white cow, a Fairy cow, that gave milk to everybody, and it mattered not how many came, there was always enough for all, and it was to be so, so long as every one who came only took one pailful. The cow came night and morning to be milked, and it made no difference what size the vessel was that was brought by each person, for she always gave enough milk to fill it, and all the other pails. At last, there came an old witch to Mitchell's Fold, and in spite and malice she brought a riddle and milked the cow into it; she milked and milked, and at last she milked her dry, and after that the cow was never seen. Folk say she was turned into a stone.

I am indebted to Miss Burne's Shropshire Folk-Lore for the particulars above given.

A like tale is to be heard in Warwickshire, and also in Lancashire, near Preston, where the Dun cow gave freely her milk to all in time of drought, and disappeared on being subjected to the treatment of the Welsh and Shropshire cow.

Mr. Lloyd, Llanfihangel Glyn Myfyr, gave me a different tale of the Dau ychain Banawg to that already related. His story is as follows:—

The Legend of Llyn y ddau ychain.

The speckled cow had two calves, which, when they grew up, became strong oxen. In those days there was a wicked spirit that troubled Cerrig-y-drudion Church, and the people greatly feared this spirit, and everybody was afraid, even in the day-time, to pass the church, for there, day after day, they saw the evil one looking out of the church windows and grinning at them. They did not know what to do to get rid of this spirit, but at last they consulted a famous conjuror, who told them that no one could dislodge their enemy but the Dau ychain Banawg. They knew of the two long-horned cattle which fed on Waen Banawg. There, therefore, they went, and brought the powerful yoke to the church. After considerable difficulty they succeeded in dislodging the spirit, and in securing it to a sledge to which these oxen were yoked, and now struggling to get free, he was dragged along by the powerful oxen towards a lake on Hiraethog Mountain, but so ponderous was their load and so fearful was the spirit's contentions that the sledge ploughed the land between the church and the lake as they went along, leaving in the course that they took deep furrows, and when they came to the hill so terrible were the struggles of the oxen to get along that the marks of their hoofs were left in the rocks where they may still be seen. When at last they reached the lake the spirit would not yield, and therefore oxen, sledge, and spirit were driven into the lake, and thus was the country rid of the evil one, and hence the name of the lake—the Lake of the Two Oxen—for the oxen likewise perished in the lake.

The foregoing legend is evidently founded on the older and more obscure story of Hu Gardarn, or Hu the Mighty, who with his Dau ychain Banawg drew to land the avanc out of Llyn Llion, so that the lake burst out no more to deluge the earth. For, be it known, it was this avanc that had occasioned the flood. However, there is a rival claimant for the honour of having destroyed the avanc, whatever that might have been, for, in Hindu Mythology, Vishnu is credited with having slain the monster that had occasioned the Deluge.

This last bit of Folk-lore about Hu Gadarn, which is found in the Triads, shows how widespread, and how very ancient, Welsh tales are. Hu Gadarn is by some writers identified with Noah. He was endowed, it would seem, with all the qualities of the gods of the Greeks, Egyptians, and Orientals, and his name is applied by the Welsh poets of the middle ages to the Supreme Being.

Y Fuwch Gyfeiliorn. The Stray Cow.

The history of the Fairy Stray Cow appears in Y Brython, vol. iii., pp. 183-4. The writer of the story states that he obtained his materials from a Paper by the late Dr. Pugh, Penhelyg, Aberdovey. The article alluded to by Gwilym Droed-ddu, the writer of the account in the Brython, appeared in the Archaeologia Cambrensis for 1853, pp. 201-5. The tale, as given by Dr. Pugh, is reproduced by Professor Rhys in his Welsh Fairy Tales, and it is much less embellished in English than in Welsh. I will quote as much of the Doctor's account as refers to the Stray Cow.

"A shrewd old hill farmer (Thomas Abergroes by name), well skilled in the folk-lore of the district, informed me that, in years gone by, though when, exactly, he was too young to remember, those dames (Gwragedd Annwn) were wont to make their appearance, arrayed in green, in the neighbourhood of Llyn Barfog, chiefly at eventide, accompanied by their kine and hounds, and that, on quiet summer nights in particular, these ban-hounds were often to be heard in full cry, pursuing their prey—the souls of doomed men dying without baptism and penance—along the upland township of Cefnrhosucha. Many a farmer had a sight of their comely, milk-white kine; many a swain had his soul turned to romance and poesy by a sudden vision of themselves in the guise of damsels arrayed in green, and radiant in beauty and grace; and many a sportsman had his path crossed by their white hounds of supernatural fleetness and comeliness, the Cwn Annwn; but never had any one been favoured with more than a passing view of either, till an old farmer residing at Dyssyrnant, in the adjoining valley of Dyffryn Gwyn, became at last the lucky captor of one of their milk-white kine. The acquaintance which the Gwartheg y Llyn, the kine of the lake, had formed with the farmer's cattle, like the loves of the angels for the daughters of men, became the means of capture; and the farmer was thereby enabled to add the mystic cow to his own herd, an event in all cases believed to be most conducive to the worldly prosperity of him who should make so fortunate an acquisition. Never was there such a cow, never were there such calves, never such milk and butter, or cheese; and the fame of the Fuwch Gyfeiliorn, the stray cow, was soon spread abroad through that central part of Wales known as the district of Rhwng y ddwy Afon, from the banks of the Mawddach to those of the Dofwy (Dovey)—from Aberdiswnwy to Abercorris. The farmer, from a small beginning, rapidly became, like Job, a man of substance, possessed of thriving herds of cattle—a very patriarch among the mountains. But, alas! wanting Job's restraining grace, his wealth made him proud, his pride made him forget his obligation to the elfin cow, and fearing she might soon become too old to be profitable, he fattened her for the butcher, and then even she did not fail to distinguish herself, for a more monstrously fat beast was never seen. At last the day of slaughter came—an eventful day in the annals of a mountain farm—the killing of a fat cow, and such a monster of obesity. No wonder all the neighbours were gathered together to see the sight. The old farmer looked upon the preparations in self-pleased importance; the butcher felt he was about no common feat of his craft, and, baring his arm, he struck the blow—not now fatal, for before even a hair had been injured, his arm was paralysed, the knife dropped from his hand, and the whole company was electrified by a piercing cry that awakened an echo in a dozen hills, and made the welkin ring again; and lo and behold! the whole assemblage saw a female figure, clad in green, with uplifted arms, standing on one of the rocks overhanging Llyn Barfog, and heard her calling with a voice loud as thunder:—

'Dere di velen Einion, Cyrn cyveiliorn—braith y Llyn, A'r voel Dodin, Codwch, dewch adre.'

'Come thou Einion's yellow one, Stray horns—speckled one of the Lake, And the hornless Dodin, Arise, come home.'

And no sooner were these words of power uttered, than the original lake cow, and all her progeny to the third and fourth generations, were in full flight towards the heights of Llyn Barfog, as if pursued by the evil one. Self-interest quickly roused the farmer, who followed in pursuit, till, breathless and panting, he gained an eminence overlooking the lake, but with no better success than to behold the green-attired dame leisurely descending mid-lake, accompanied by the fugitive cows, and her calves formed in a circle around her; they tossed their tails, she waved her hands in scorn, as much as to say, 'You may catch us, my friend, if you can,' as they disappeared beneath the dark waters of the lake, leaving only the yellow water-lily to mark the spot where they vanished, and to perpetuate the memory of this strange event. Meanwhile, the farmer looked with rueful countenance upon the spot where the elfin herd disappeared, and had ample leisure to deplore the effects of his greediness, as with them also departed the prosperity which had hitherto attended him, and he became impoverished to a degree below his original circumstances, and in his altered circumstances few felt pity for one who, in the noontide flow of prosperity, had shown himself so far forgetful of favours received, as to purpose slaying his benefactor." Thus ends Dr. Pugh's account of the Stray Cow.

A tale very much like the preceding is recorded of a Scotch farmer. It is to be found in vol. ii., pp. 45-6, of Croker's Fairy Legends of Ireland, and is as follows:—

"A farmer who lived near a river had a cow which regularly every year, on a certain day in May, left the meadow and went slowly along the banks of the river till she came opposite to a small island overgrown with bushes; she went into the water and waded or swam towards the island, where she passed some time, and then returned to her pasture. This continued for several years; and every year, at the usual season, she produced a calf which perfectly resembled the elf bull. One afternoon, about Martinmas, the farmer, when all the corn was got in and measured, was sitting at his fireside, and the subject of the conversation was, which of the cattle should be killed for Christmas. He said: 'We'll have the cow; she is well fed, and has rendered good services in ploughing, and filled the stalls with fine oxen, now we will pick her old bones.' Scarcely had he uttered these words when the cow with her young ones rushed through the walls as if they had been made of paper, went round the dunghill, bellowed at each of her calves, and then drove them all before her, according to their age, towards the river, where they got into the water, reached the island, and vanished among the bushes. They were never more heard of."

Ceffyl y Dwfr. The Water Horse.

The superstition respecting the water-horse, in one form or other, is common to the Celtic race. He was supposed to intimate by preternatural lights and noises the death of those about to perish by water, and it was vulgarly believed that he even assisted in drowning his victims. The water-horse was thought to be an evil spirit, who, assuming the shape of a horse, tried to allure the unwary to mount him, and then soaring into the clouds, or rushing over mountain, and water, would suddenly vanish into air or mist, and precipitate his rider to destruction.

The Welsh water-horse resembles the Kelpie of the Scotch. Jamieson, under the word Kelpie, in his Scottish Dictionary, quoting from various authors, as is his custom, says:—

"This is described as an aquatic demon, who drowns not only men but ships. The ancient Northern nations believed that he had the form of a horse; and the same opinion is still held by the vulgar in Iceland.

"Loccenius informs us that in Sweden the vulgar are still afraid of his power, and that swimmers are on their guard against his attacks; being persuaded that he suffocates and carries off those whom he catches under water." "Therefore," adds this writer, "it would seem that ferry-men warn those who are crossing dangerous places in some rivers not so much as to mention his name; lest, as they say, they should meet with a storm and be in danger of losing their lives. Hence, doubtless, has this superstition originated; that, in these places formerly, during the time of paganism, those who worshipped their sea-deity Nekr, did so, as it were with a sacred silence, for the reason already given."

The Scotch Kelpie closely resembled the Irish Phoocah, or Poocah, a mischievous being, who was particularly dreaded on the night of All Hallow E'en, when it was thought he had especial power; he delighted to assume the form of a black horse, and should any luckless wight bestride the fiendish steed, he was carried through brake and mire, over water and land at a bewildering pace. Woe-betide the timid rider, for the Poocah made short work of such an one, and soon made him kiss the ground. But to the bold fearless rider the Poocah submitted willingly, and became his obedient beast of burden.

The following quotation from the Tales of the Cymry, p. 151, which is itself an extract from Mrs. S. C. Hall's Ireland, graphically describes the Irish water fiend:—

"The great object of the Poocah seems to be to obtain a rider, and then he is in all his most malignant glory. Headlong he dashes through briar and brake, through flood and fall, over mountain, valley, moor, and river indiscriminately; up and down precipice is alike to him, provided he gratifies the malevolence that seems to inspire him. He bounds and flies over and beyond them, gratified by the distress, and utterly reckless and ruthless of the cries, and danger, and suffering of the luckless wight who bestrides him."

Sometimes the Poocah assumed the form of a goat, an eagle, or of some other animal, and leaped upon the shoulders of the unwary traveller, and clung to him, however frantic were the exertions to get rid of the monster.

Allied to the water-horse were the horses upon which magicians in various lands were supposed to perform their aerial journeys.

It was believed in Wales that the clergy could, without danger, ride the water-horse, and the writer has heard a tale of a clergyman, who, when bestride one of these horses, had compassion on his parish clerk, who was trudging by his side, and permitted him to mount behind him, on condition that he should keep silence when upon the horse's back. For awhile the loquacious parish clerk said no word, but ere long the wondrous pace of the horse caused him to utter a pious ejaculation, and no sooner were the words uttered than he was thrown to the ground; his master kept his seat, and, on parting with the fallen parish official, shouted out, "Serve you right, why did you not keep your noisy tongue quiet?"

The weird legends and gloomy creations of the Celt assume a mild and frolicsome feature when interpreted by the Saxon mind. The malevolent Poocah becomes in England the fun-loving Puck, who delights in playing his pranks on village maidens, and who says:—

I am that merry wanderer of the night; Jest to Oberon, and make him smile, When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal; And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab; And when she drinks against her lips I bob, And on her withered dew-lap pour the ale.

Midsummer Night's Dream, Act I, Sc. I.

The Ceffyl-y-Dwfr was very different to Chaucer's wonderful brass horse, which could be ridden, without harm, by a sleeping rider:—

This steed of brasse, and easilie and well Can in the space of a day naturel, This is to say, in foure and twenty houres, Where so ye lists, in drought or elles showers, Baren yours bodie into everie place, In which your hearte willeth for to pace, Withouten wemme of you through foul or fair, Or if you liste to flee as high in th' aire As doth an eagle when him liste to soare, This same steed shall bear you evermore, Withouten harm, till ye be there you leste, Though that ye sleepen on his back or reste; And turn againe with writhing of a pinne, He that it wroughte he coulde many a gin, He waited many a constellation, Ere he had done this operation.