“But what is the fault?” asked the Breconshire magistrate impatiently: “give it a name, man.”
“Why inteed to goodness,” replied the scrupulous horse-dealer, “I will tell you like an honest christian man, without more worts about it; I will make my sacrament and bible oaths”—“I don’t ask your oath,” cried Powell, almost out of humour, “merely tell me in word, what ails the horse?”
“Inteed and upon my soul and conscience to boot, I can’t say what do ail him.” “You can’t?” cried Powell in an angry tone, and looking as surprised and wrath as might be expected from a proud Breconian; “Confound me if I do,” replied Twm, “but I will tell you why he was no good to master; it wass thiss—Master iss a parson, a gentleman parson, not a poor curate, one mister Inco Evans, rector of Tregaron, and the white hairs do come off the grey horse here, and stick upon his best black coat and preeches; and that was his fault.”
This was a curious reason for disposing of so good-a-looking animal as that Twm held by the bridle, and one that did not deter Powell from buying him without further parley, and paying for him there and then. He disappeared with his prize, wondering at the stupid dolt from whom his purchase had been made.
Twm retired now to a small public-house, where having asked for a bed-room, he contrived, after making a total change in his garb, to slip out again unperceived, not wishing, for various reasons, to appear before his mistress in propria personæ. He now wore a grey sober suit, shining black buckles, stockings of the wool of a black sheep, and a knitted Welsh wig, of the same, that fitted him like a skullcap, and concealed every lock of his hair. Thus arrayed, he presented the appearance of a grave puritanical farmer, from the remote district of Cardiganshire.
After gazing awhile at the motley crowd that constitutes a fair, in a Welsh country town, he noticed a well-known crone, who had the reputation of being exceedingly covetous. Lean, yellow, and decrepid, her ferret-eyes glanced eagerly about for a customer, as she held beneath her arm a large roil of stout striped flannel. Twm, unobserved, took his stand behind her, and dexterously stitching her bale to his coat, he, with a sudden jerk, transferred it from the old woman’s grasp to his own. Her wonder and dismay was unutterable.
Elbowed and tossed about by the bustling crowd who were passing to and fro, she knew not who to vent her spleen upon; but, in utter despair, set up a tremendous howl, as a requiem for her beloved departed. Instead of seeking the assistance of a light pair of heels, Twm scarcely moved a yard, but drew from his pocket a little black tobacco-pipe, and puffed a cloud with admirable coolness, while his right arm lovingly embraced the bale of flannel.
Roused by the old beldame’s outrageous expressions of grief and fury, he asked in a very pathetic tone, the cause of her sorrow, which she related with many curses, sobs, and furious exclamations. Shocked at her impiety, and want of resignation, Twm took upon him to rebuke her, and edified her much, by a discourse on the virtue of patience; assuring her she ought to thank heaven that she was not a neglected being. In conclusion, he remarked, that fairs and markets in these degenerate days were so sadly infested with rogues and vagabonds, that an honest person was completely encompassed by dangers.
“Now for my part,” continued he, “I never enter such places without previously sewing my goods to my clothes, which you ought also to have done, in this manner.”—showing at the same time, the roll beneath his arm, which he thought the old crone’s eyes had glanced on, with something like a light of suspicion, that instantly vanished, on this notable display and explanation.
Our hero’s appetite only grew by what it fed upon, and the taste of fun he had as yet been able to snatch only made him wish for more. He did not wait long for an opportunity; it was his habit to be so; he either met “opportunity” half-way or entirely created his chance, making circumstances, in a measure, contribute to his especial purposes.