butter; and many more imaginary things were placed to their credit.

The personal appearance of witches, as given by Shakespeare, corresponds exactly with the Welsh idea of these hags. On this subject the poet writes:

What are these

So wither'd and so wild in their attire

That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are on't? Live you? Or are you ought
That man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her chappy fingers laying

Upon her skinny lips: You should be women,

And yet your beards forbid me to interpret

That you are so.

Macbeth, Act I., S. 3.

A striking and pathetic portrait of a witch, taken from Otway's Orphan, Act. II., is given in No. 117 of the Spectator. It is so true to life and apposite to our subject that I will quote it :

In a close lane, as I pursu'd my journey,

I spy'd a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,
Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself.
Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd, and red,
Cold palsy shook her head, her hands seemed wither'd,
And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapt
The tatter'd remnant of an old striped hanging,

Which served to keep her carcass from the cold;

So there was nothing of a piece about her.

Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patched,

With different colour'd rags, black, red, white, yellow,
And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness.

A picture such as this is enough to create sympathy and charity in a selfish heart, but in those dark days, when faith in witchcraft prevailed, such a poor old decrepit woman inspired awe, and was shunned as a malicious evildoer by all her neighbours.

Llanddona Witches.

There is a tradition in the parish of Llanddona, Anglesey, that these witches, with their husbands, had been expelled from their native country, wherever that was, for practising witchcraft. They were sent adrift, it is said, in a boat, without rudder or oars, and left in this state to the mercy of the wind and the wave. When they were first discovered approaching the Anglesey shore, the Welsh tried to drive them back into the sea, and even after they had landed they were confined to the beach. The strangers, dead almost from thirst and hunger, commanded a spring of pure water to burst forth on the sands. This well remains to our days. This miracle decided their fate. The strangers were allowed, consequently, to land, but as they still practised their evil arts the parish became associated with their name, and hence the Witches of Llanddona was a term generally applied to the female portion of that parish, though in reality it belonged to one family only within its boundaries.

The men lived by smuggling and the women by begging and cursing. It was impossible to overcome these daring smugglers, for in their neckerchief was a fly, which, the moment the knot of their cravats was undone, flew right at the eye of their opponents and blinded them, but before this last remedy was resorted to the men fought like lions, and only when their strength failed them did they release their familiar spirit, the fly, to strike with blindness the defenders of the law.

The above-mentioned tradition of the coming of these witches to Anglesey is still current in the parish of Llanddona, which is situated on the north coast of Anglesey.

It was thought that the witching power belonged to families, and descended from mothers to daughters. This was supposed to be the case with the witches of Llanddona.

25

This family obtained a bad report throam at the wand.
The women, with dishevelled hair and bared breasts, visited
farm houses and requested charity, m.re as a right than a
favour, and no one darei refuse tea Li

is a name that is not likely soon tode. Taking aboves
of the credulity of the people they cursed to si alg
disliked, and many were the endeavours to Domkiah - I
maledictions. The following is one of their cuba uuri
at Y Ffynon Oer, a well in the parish of Lesota
a man who had offenie i one of these villa

Crwydro y byddo am stellate,

Ac yn mhob cam, camfa.

Yn mhob sama DIVI,

ong

ind,

The English is as fws but the & veste

of the Welsh do not appear in the trut

con

the

oth

W

The following tales of the doings of witches will throw light upon the matter under consideration.

Witches transforming themselves into Cats.

One of the forms that witches were supposed to change themselves into was that of a cat. In this metamorphosed state they were the more able to accomplish their designs. The following tale, illustrative of this belief, was told me by the Rev. R. Jones, Rector of Llanycil, Bala.

On the side of the old road, between Cerrigydrudion and Bettws-y-Coed-long before this latter place had become the resort of artists-stood an inn, which was much resorted to, as it was a convenient lodging house for travellers on their way to Ireland. This inn stood near the present village of Bettws-y-Coed. Many robberies occurred here. Travellers who put up there for the night were continually deprived of their money, and no one could tell how this occurred, for the lodgers were certain that no one had entered their rooms, as they were found locked in the morning just as they were the night before. The mystery was, therefore, great. By and by, one of those who had lost his money consulted Huw Llwyd, who lived at Cynvael, in the parish of Festiniog, and he promised to unravel the mystery. Now, Huw Llwyd had been an officer in the army, and, equipped in his regimentals, with sword dangling by his side, he presented himself one evening at the suspected inn, and asked whether he could obtain a room and bed for the night; he represented himself as on his way to Ireland, and he found no difficulty in obtaining a night's lodging. The inn was kept by two sisters of prepossessing appearance, and the traveller made himself most agreeable to these ladies, and entertained them with tales of his travels in foreign parts. On retiring for the night he stated Ihat it was a habit with him to burn lights in his room all

night, and he was supplied with a sufficient quantity of candles to last through the night. The request, as Hugh Llwyd was a military man, did not arouse suspicion. Huw retired, and made his arrangements for a night of watching. He placed his clothes on the floor within easy reach of his bed, and his sword unsheathed lay on the bed close to his right hand. He had secured the door, and now as the night drew on he was all attention; ere long two cats stealthily came down the partition between his room and the next to it. Huw feigned sleep, the cats frisked here and there in the room, but the sleeper awoke not; they chased each other about the room, and played and romped, and at last they approached Huw's clothes and played with them, and here they seemed to get the greatest amusement; they turned the clothes about and over, placing their paws now on that string, and now on that button, and ere long their paws were inserted into the pockets of his clothes, and, just as one of the cats had her paw in the pocket that contained Huw Llwyd's purse, he like lightning struck the cat's paw with his sword. With terrible screams they both disappeared, and nothing further was seen of them during the night.

Next morning, only one of the sisters appeared at the breakfast table. To the traveller's enquiry after the absent lady of the house, her sister said that she was slightly indisposed, and could not appear.

Huw Llwyd expressed regret at this, but, said he—“I must say good-bye to her, for I greatly enjoyed her company last night." He would not be refused, so ultimately he was admitted to her presence. After expressing his sympathy and regret at her illness, the soldier held out his hand to bid good-bye to the lady. She put out her left hand; this Huw refused to take, averring that he had never

BB