“Go in God’s name, so ride no witches.”
I will now leave this subject with the remark that people separated by distance are often brought together by their superstitions, and probably, these beliefs imply a common origin of the people amongst whom these myths prevail.
The following tales show how baneful the belief in witchcraft was; but, nevertheless, there was some good even in such superstitions, for people were induced, through fear of being witched, to be charitable.
A Witch who turned a Blue Dye into a Red Dye.
An old hag went to a small farmhouse in Clocaenog parish, and found the farmer’s wife occupied in dyeing wool blue. She begged for a little wool and blue dye. She was informed by Mrs. --- that she was really very sorry that she could not part with either, as she had only just barely enough for her own use. The hag departed, and the woman went on with her dyeing, but to her surprise, the wool came out of the pot dyed red instead of blue. She thought that possibly it was the dye that was to blame, and so she gave up for the night her employment, and the next day she went to Ruthin for a fresh supply of blue to finish her work, but again she failed to dye the wool blue, for red, and not blue, was the result of her dyeing. She, in surprise, told a neighbour of her unaccountable failure to dye her wool blue. This neighbour asked her if she had been visited by anyone, and she in answer told her that old so and so had been at her house begging. “Ah,” was the response, “I see
how it is you can never dye that wool blue, you have been witched, send the red wool and the part that you have not touched here to me, and I will finish the work for you.” This was done, and the same colour was used by both women, but now it became blue, whilst with the other, it was red.
This tale was told me by a gentleman who does not wish his name to appear in print, as it would lead to the identification of the parties mentioned, and the descendants of the supposed witch, being respectable farmers, would rather that the tale of their canny grandmother were forgotten, but my informant vouches for the truth of the tale.
A Pig Witched.
A woman sold a pig at Beaumaris to a man called Dick y Green; she could not that day sell any more, but the following market day she went again to Beaumaris. Dick was there waiting her appearance, and he told her that the pig he bought was bewitched and she must come with him to undo the curse. Away the woman went with Dick, and when they came to the pig she said, “What am I to do now, Dick?” “Draw thy hand seven times down his back,” said Dick, “and say every time, ‘Rhad Duw arnat ti,’” i.e., “The blessing of God be on thee.” The woman did so, and then Dick went for physic for the pig, which recovered.