Another similar Tale.
Thirty pounds were stolen from Glan-yr-afon, Garthbeibio. The owner made known to his household that he intended going to Shon the conjuror, to ascertain who had taken his money, but the next day the money was discovered, being restored, as was believed, by the thief the night before.
These stories show that the ignorant and superstitious were influenced through fear, to restore what they had wrongfully appropriated, and their faith in the conjuror’s power thus resulted, in some degree, in good to the community. The Dyn Hyspys was feared where no one else was feared, and in this way the supposed conjuror was not altogether an unimportant nor unnecessary member of society. At a time, particularly when people are in a low state of civilization, or when they still cling to the pagan faith of their forefathers, transmitted to them from remote ages, then something can be procured for the good of a benighted people even through the medium of the Gwr Cyfarwydd.
Events occurred occasionally by a strange coincidence through which the fame of the Dyn Hyspys became greatly increased. An event of this kind is related by Mr. Edward Hamer. He states that:—
“Two respectable farmers, living in the upper Vale of the Severn (Cwm Glyn Hafren), and standing in relationship to each other of uncle and nephew, a few years ago purchased each a pig of the same litter, from another farmer. When bought, both animals were, to all appearance, in excellent health and condition, and for a short time after their removal to their new homes both continued to improve daily. It was not long, however, before both were taken ill very suddenly. As there appeared something very strange in the behaviour of his animal, the nephew firmly believed that he was ‘witched,’ and acting upon this belief, set out for the neighbouring conjuror. Having received certain injunctions from the ‘wise man,’ he returned home, carried them out, and had the satisfaction of witnessing the gradual recovery of his pig. The uncle paid no attention to the persuasions and even entreaties of his nephew; he would not believe that his pig was ‘witched,’ and refused to consult the conjuror. The pig died after an illness of three weeks; and many thought the owner deserved little sympathy for manifesting so much obstinacy and scepticism. These events occurred in the spring of the year 1870, and were much talked of at the time.”—Montgomeryshire Collections, vol. x., p. 240.
Conjurors retained their repute by much knavery and collusion with others.
Tales are not wanted that expose their impostures. The Rev. Meredith Hamer, late of Berse, told me of the following exposure of a conjuror. I know not where the event occurred, but it is a typical case.