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time there; and partly on that of Hywel's essay on the folklore of the county, which was awarded the prize at the National Eistedfod of 18981. A story current at ILanuwchttyn, concerning a midwife who attends on a fairy mother, resembles the others of the same group: for one of them see p. 63 above. In the former, however, one misses the ointment, and finds instead of it that the midwife was not to touch her eyes with the water with which she washed the fairy baby. But as might be expected one of her eyes happened to itch, and she touched it with her fingers straight from the water. It appears that thenceforth she was able to see the fairies with that eye; at any rate she is represented some time afterwards recognizing the father of the fairy baby at a fair at Bala, and inquiring of him kindly about his family. The fairy asked with which eye she saw him, and when he had ascertained this, he at once blinded it, so that she never could see with it afterwards. Hywel also has it that the Tylwyth Teg formerly used to frequent the markets at Bala, and that they used to swell the noise in the market-place without anybody being able to see them: this was a sign that prices were going to rise.

The shepherds of Ardudwy are familiar, according to Hywel, with a variant of the story in which a man married a fairy on condition that he did not touch her with iron. They lived on the Moelfre and dwelt happily together for years, until one fine summer day, when the husband was engaged in shearing his sheep, he put the gwette, 'shears,' in his wife's hand: she then instantly disappeared. The earlier portions of this story are unknown to me, but they are not hard to guess.

'Hywel's real name is William Davies, Tal y Bont, Cardiganshire. As adjudicator I became acquainted with several stories which Mr. Davies has since given me permission to use, and I have to thank him for clues to several others.

Concerning ILyn Ircfyn, between the western slopes of the ILawttech, Hywel has a story the like of which I am not acquainted with: walking near that lake you shun the shore and keep to the grass in order to avoid the fairies, for if you take hold of the grass no fairy can touch you, or dare under any circumstances injure a blade of grass.

Lastly, Hywel speaks of several caves containing treasure, as for instance a telyn aur, or golden harp, hidden away in a cave beneath Castett Car n Dochan in the parish of ILanuwchttyn. Lewis Morris, in his Celtic Remains, p. 100, calls it Castett Corndochen, and describes it as seated on the top of a steep rock at the bottom of a deep valley: it appears to have consisted of a wall surrounding three turrets, and the mortar seems composed of cockle-shells: see also the Archoeologia Cambrensis for 1850, p. 204. Hywel speaks also of a cave beneath Castett Dinas Bran, near ILangotten, as containing much treasure, which will only be disclosed to a boy followed by a white dog with ttygaid arian, 'silver eyes,' explained to mean light eyes: every such dog is said to see the wind. So runs this story, but it requires more exegesis than I can supply. One may compare it at a distance with Myrdin's arrangement that the treasure buried by him at Dinas Emrys should only be found by a youth with yellow hair and blue eyes, and with the belief that the cave treasures of the Snowdon district belong to the Gwyayl or Goidels, and that Goidels will eventually find them: see chapter viii.

The next three stories are from Mr. Owen Edwards' Cymru for 1897, pp. 188-9, where he has published them from a collection made for a literary competition or local Eistedfod by his friend J. H. Roberts, who died in early manhood. The first is a blurred version of the story of the Lake Lady and her dowry of cattle, but enough of the story remains to show that, had we got it in its original form, it would be found to differ somewhat on several points from all the other versions extant. I summarize the Welsh as follows:—In ages gone by, as the shepherd of Hafod y Garreg was looking after his sheep on the shores of the Arennig Lake, he came across a young calf, plump, sleek, and strong, in the rushes. He could not guess whence the beast could have come, as no cattle were allowed to approach the lake at that time of the year. He took it home, however, and it was reared until it was a bull, remarkable for his fine appearance. In time his offspring were the only cattle on the farm, and never before had there been such beasts at Hafod y Garreg. They were the wonder and admiration of the whole country. But one summer afternoon in June, the shepherd saw a little fat old man playing on a pipe, and then he heard him call the cows by their names—

Mulican, Molican, Malen, Mair, Mulican, Molican, Malen and Mair.

Dovcch adre'r awrhon ar fy ngair. Come now home at my word.

He then beheld the whole herd running to the little man and going into the lake. Nothing more was heard of them, and it was everybody's opinion that they were the Tylwyth Teg's cattle.

The next is a quasi fairy tale, the outcome of which recalls the adventure of the farmer of Drws y Coed on his return from Bedgelert Fair, p. 99 above. It is told of a young harpist who was making his way across country from his home at Yspyty I fan to the neighbourhood of Bala, that while crossing the mountain he happened in the mist to lose his road and fall into the Gors Fawr, 'the big bog.' There he wallowed for hours, quite unable to extricate himself in spite of all his efforts. But when he was going to give up in despair, he beheld close to him, reaching him her hand, a little woman who was wondrous fair beyond all his conception of beauty, and with her help he got out of the Gors. The damsel gave him a jolly sweet kiss that flashed electricity through his whole nature: he was at once over head and ears in love. She led him to the hut of her father and mother: there he had every welcome, and he spent the night singing and dancing with Olwen, for that was her name. Now, though the harpist was a mere stripling, he thought of wedding at once—he was never before in such a heaven of delight. But next morning he was waked, not by a kiss from Olwen, but by the Plas Drain shepherd's dog licking his lips: he found himself sleeping against the wall of a sheepfold (corlan), with his harp in a clump of rushes at his feet, without any trace to be found of the family with whom he had spent such a happy night.


The next story recalls Glasynys' Einion Las, as given at pp. 111-5 above: its peculiarity is the part played by the well introduced. The scene was a turbary near the river called Afon Mynach, so named from Cwm Tir Mynach, behind the hills immediately north of Bala: — Ages ago, as a number of people were cutting turf in a place which was then moorland, and which is now enclosed ground forming part of a farm called Nant Hir, one of them happened to wash his face in a well belonging to the fairies. At dinner-time in the middle of the day they sat down in a circle, while the youth who had washed is face went to fetch the food, but suddenly both he the box of food were lost. They knew not what to they suspected that it was the doing of the fairies; he wise man (gwr hyspys) came to the neighbouri and told them, that, if they would only go to the

-•t_on the night of full moon in June, they would

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behold him dancing with the fairies. They did as they were told, and found the moor covered with thousands of little agile creatures who sang and danced with all their might, and they saw the missing man among them. They rushed at him, and with a great deal of trouble they got him out. But oftentimes was Einion missed again, until at the time of full moon in another June he returned home with a wondrously fair wife, whose history or pedigree no one knew. Everybody believed her to be one of the Tylwyth Teg.


There is a kind of fairy tale of which I think I have hitherto not given the reader a specimen: a good instance is given in the third volume of the Brython, at p. 459, by a contributor who calls himself Idnerth ab Gwgan, who, I learn from the Rev. Chancellor Silvan Evans, the editor, was no other than the Rev. Benjamin Williams, best known to Welsh antiquaries by his bardic name of Gwynionyd. The preface to the tale is also interesting, so I am tempted to render the whole into English, as follows:—

'The fair family were wonderful creatures in the imaginary world: they encamped, they walked, and they capered a great deal in former ages in our country, according to what we learn from some of our old people. It may be supposed that they were very little folks like the children of Rhys f)wfn; for the old people used to imagine that they were wont to visit their hearths in great numbers in ages gone by. The girls at the farm houses used to make the hearths clean after supper, and to place a cauldron full of water near the fire; and so they thought that the fair family came there to play at night, bringing sweethearts for the young women, and

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