FAIRY MONEY TURNED TO DROSS.
Fairies’ treasure was of uncertain value, and depended for its very existence on Fairy intentions. Often and again, when they had lavishly bestowed money on this or that person, it was discovered to be only leaves or some equally worthless substance; but people said that the recipients of the money richly deserved the deception that had been played upon them by the Fairies.
In this chapter a few tales shall be given of this trait of Fairy mythology.
1. A Cruel Man and a Fairy Dog.
The person from whom the following tale was derived was David Roberts, Tycerrig, Clocaenog, near Ruthin.
A Fairy dog lost its master and wandered about here and there seeking him. A farmer saw the dog, and took it home with him, but he behaved very unkindly towards the wee thing, and gave it little to eat, and shouted at it, and altogether he showed a hard heart. One evening a little old man called at this farmer’s house, and inquired if any stray dog was there. He gave a few particulars respecting the dog, and mentioned the day that it had been lost. The farmer answered in the affirmative, and the stranger said that the dog was his, and asked the farmer to give it up to him. This the farmer willingly did, for he placed no value on the dog. The little man was very glad to get possession of his lost dog, and on departing he placed a well filled purse in the farmer’s hand. Some time afterwards the farmer looked into the purse, intending to take a coin out of it, when to his surprise and annoyance he found therein nothing but leaves.
Roberts told the writer that the farmer got what he deserved, for he had been very cruel to the wee dog.
Another tale much like the preceding one, I have heard, but I have forgotten the source of the information. A person discovered a lost Fairy dog wandering about, and took it home, but he did not nurse the half-starved animal, nor did he nourish it. After a while some of the Fairy folk called on this person to inquire after their lost dog, and he gave it to them. They rewarded this man for his kindness with a pot filled with money and then departed. On further inspection, the money was found to be cockle shells.
Such lessons as these taught by the Fairies were not without their effect on people who lived in days gone by.
2. Dick the Fiddler and the Fairy Crown-Piece.
For the following story I am indebted to my friend, Mr Hamer, who records it in his “Parochial account of Llanidloes,” published in the Montgomeryshire Collections, vol. x., pp. 252-3-4. Mr Hamer states that the tale was related to him by Mr. Nicholas Bennett, Glanrafon, Trefeglwys.
“Dick the Fiddler was in the habit of going about the country to play at merry-makings, fairs, etc. This worthy, after a week’s fuddle at Darowen, wending his way homeward, had to walk down ‘Fairy Green Lane,’ just above the farmstead of Cefn Cloddiau, and to banish fear, which he felt was gradually obtaining the mastery over him, instead of whistling, drew out from the skirt pocket of his long-tailed great coat his favourite instrument. After tuning it, be commenced elbowing his way through his favourite air, Aden Ddu’r Fran (the Crow’s Black Wing). When he passed over the green sward where the Tylwyth Têg, or Fairies, held their merry meetings, he heard something rattle in his fiddle, and this something continued rattling and tinkling until he reached Llwybr Scriw Riw, his home, almost out of his senses at the fright caused by that everlasting ‘tink, rink, jink,’ which was ever sounding in his ears. Having entered the cottage he soon heard music of a different kind, in the harsh angry voice of his better half, who justly incensed at his absence, began lecturing him in a style, which, unfortunately, Dick, from habit, could not wholly appreciate. He was called a worthless fool, a regular drunkard and idler. ‘How is it possible for me to beg enough for myself and half a house-full of children nearly naked, while you go about the country and bring me nothing home.’ ‘Hush, hush, my good woman,’ said Dick, ‘see what’s in the blessed old fiddle.’ She obeyed, shook it, and out tumbled, to their great surprise, a five-shilling piece. The wife looked
up into the husband’s face, saw that it was ‘as pale as a sheet’ with fright: and also noting that he had such an unusually large sum in his possession, she came to the conclusion that he could not live long, and accordingly changed her style saying, ‘Good man go to Llanidloes to-morrow, it is market-day and buy some shirting for yourself, for it may never be your good fortune to have such a sum of money again.’ The following day, according to his wife’s wishes, Dick wended his way to Llanidloes, musing, as he went along, upon his extraordinary luck, and unable to account for it. Arrived in the town, he entered Richard Evans’s shop, and called for shirting linen to the value of five shillings, for which he gave the shopkeeper the crown piece taken out of the fiddle. Mr. Evans placed it in the till, and our worthy Dick betook himself to Betty Brunt’s public-house (now known as the Unicorn) in high glee with the capital piece of linen in the skirt pocket of his long-tailed top coat. He had not, however, been long seated before Mr. Evans came in, and made sharp enquiries as to how and where he obtained possession of the crown piece with which he had paid for the linen. Dick assumed a solemn look, and then briefly related where and how he had received the coin. ‘Say you so,’ said Evans, ‘I thought as much, for when I looked into the till, shortly after you left the shop, to my great surprise it was changed into a heap of musty horse dung.’”