Diweđ y ffrindiaeth fu carwriaeth, a phan soniođ yr hogyn am iđi briodi, ni wnai ond ar un amod, sef y bywiai hi hefo fo hyd nes y tarawai ef hi a haiarn.
Priodwyd hwy, a buont byw gyda’u gilyđ am nifer o flynyđoeđ, a bu iđynt blant; ac ar đyđ marchnad yn Gaernarfon yr oeđ y gwr a’r wraig yn međwl mynd i’r farchnad ar gefn merlod, fel pob ffarmwr yr amser hwnnw. Awd i’r mynyđ i đal merlyn bob un.
Ar waelod Mynyđ y Fedw mae ỻyn o ryw dri-ugain neu gan ỻath o hyd ac ugain neu đeg ỻath ar hugain o led, ac y mae ar un ochr iđo le têg, fforđ y byđai’r ceffylau yn rhedeg.
Daliođ y gwr ferlyn a rhoes ef i’r wraig i’w đal heb ffrwyn, tra byđai ef yn dal merlyn araỻ. Ar ol rhoi ffrwyn yn mhen ei ferlyn ei hun, taflođ un araỻ i’r wraig i roi yn mhen ei merlyn hithau, ac wrth ei thaflu tarawođ bit y ffrwyn hi yn ei ỻaw. Goỻyngođ y wraig y merlyn, ac aeth ar ei phen i’r ỻyn, a dyna điweđ y briodas.
‘To the farm of Bron y Fedw there belonged a son, who grew up to be a young man, the women knew not how long before their time. He was in the habit of going up the mountain to Cwm Drywenyđ[19] and Mynyđ y Fedw, on the west side of Snowdon, to do the shepherding, and there he was wont to come across a lass on the mountain, so that as the result of frequently meeting one another, he and she became great friends. They usually met at a particular spot in Cwm Drywenyđ, where the girl and her family lived, and where there were all kinds of nice things to eat, of amusements, and of incomparable music; but he did not make up to anybody there except the girl. The friendship ended in courtship; but when the boy mentioned that she should be married to him, she would only do so on one condition, namely, that she would live with him until he should strike her with iron. They were wedded, and they lived together for a number of years, and had children. Once on a time it happened to be market day at Carnarvon, whither the husband and wife thought of riding on ponies, like all the farmers of that time. So they went to the mountain to catch a pony each. At the bottom of Mynyđ y Fedw there is a pool some sixty or one hundred yards long by twenty or thirty broad, and on one side of it there is a level space along which the horses used to run. The husband caught a pony, and gave it to the wife to hold fast without a bridle, while he should catch another. When he had bridled his own pony, he threw another bridle to his wife for her to secure hers; but as he threw it, the bit of the bridle struck her on one of her hands. The wife let go the pony, and went headlong into the pool, and that was the end of their wedded life.’
The following is a later tale, which Mr. Thomas Davies heard from his mother, who died in 1832: she would be ninety years of age had she been still living:—
Pan oeđ hi’n hogan yn yr Hafod, Ỻanberis, yr oeđ hogan at ei hoed hi’n cael ei magu yn Cwmglas, Ỻanberis, ac arferai đweyd, pan yn hogan a thra y bu byw, y byđai yn cael arian gan y Tylwyth Teg yn Cwm Cwmglas.
Yr oeđ yn dweyd y byđai ar foreuau niwliog, tywyỻ, yn mynd i le penodol yn Cwm Cwmglas gyda dsygiad o lefrith o’r fuches a thywel glan, ac yn ei rođi ar garreg; ac yn mynd yno drachefn, ac yn cael y ỻestr yn wag, gyda darn deuswỻt neu hanner coron ac weithiau fwy wrth ei ochr.
‘When she was a girl, living at Yr Hafod, Ỻanberis, there was a girl of her age being brought up at Cwmglas in the same parish. The latter was in the habit of saying, when she was a girl and so long as she lived, that she used to have money from the Tylwyth Teg, in the Cwmglas Hollow. Her account was, that on dark, misty mornings she used to go to a particular spot in that Hollow with a jugful of sweet milk from the milking place, and a clean towel, and then place them on a stone. She would return, and find the jug empty, with a piece of money placed by its side: that is, two shillings or half a crown, or at times even more.’
A daughter of that woman lives now at a farm, Mr. Davies observes, called Plas Pennant, in the parish of Ỻanfihangel yn Mhennant, in Carnarvonshire; and he adds, that it was a tale of a kind that was common enough when he was a boy; but many laughed at it, though the old people believed it to be a fact. To this I may as well append another tale, which was brought to the memory of an old man who happened to be present when Mr. Jones and Mr. Davies were busy with the foregoing. His name is John Roberts, and his age is seventy-five: his present home is at Capel Sïon, in the neighbouring parish of Ỻanđeiniolen:—