With the earliest rays of the morning’s sun Twm was astir, and during a long ramble on the hills, was busily turning over in his mind the exciting-incidents of the previous day. Unable to account for his second disappointment of seeing his mistress, according to promise, he gave way to despondency, and conjectured the worst—that she was no longer true to his vows, but had yielded to the persuasions of her haughty relative, and become a renegade both to love and to honour. He was now, however, so near her residence, he would at least ascertain how matters stood; and, after many efforts of resolution, he descended the hill for that purpose.
On crossing the Towey, he was surprised to find that the “gallant grey” was still left for him; he was busily feeding in an adjoining field, and the saddle and bridle hung dangling from a storm-stricken old thorn. He felt this, directly, as a handsome piece of attention to him, on the part of Powell of Brecon, who, doubtless, had left it there for convenience.
On examining further, he found a note, tied to the bridle, from that generous individual, inviting him to be present at the Eisteddvod, the Races and the Ball, which were to take place successively in the gay town of Brecon.
He was doomed to disappointment; for on reaching Ystrad Feen he found nobody but the servants, who informed him that their lady, Miss Meredith, and the late visitors, were all gone to Brecon, and would not return for some days. This intelligence determined him to go there also; and recollecting a trunk of clothes of his, which had been left ever since his sojourning there, he called for it; and having dressed himself, and placed with other things, in his saddle-bags, an elegant suit which he had brought from London, he mounted his horse, and rode off for Brecon.
About a couple of miles beyond Trecastle, he overtook a poor fellow driving an ass, laden with coarse crockery ware, who turned out to be no other than Ready Rosser. Having long been married to a Cardiganshire lass, they both, pretending to be single, entered Squire Prothero’s service at the same time; but the circumstance being at length discovered, they were both discharged a few days since, and now commenced the crockery business for a livelihood. After a few jests on the white bull, ox, and sheep, Twm spurred on, but not before he had purchased the whole of Rosser’s stock, which, however, that worthy was to take to Brecon, for a purpose to be hereafter described.
At Brecon he took lodgings at the Three Cocks’ inn, to which he gave a preference, on account of the sign being the armorial bearings of the celebrated David Gam, (Shakespeare’s Captain Fuellin,) the hero of Agincourt.
Crowds still poured into the town from all points of the compass, until it seemed impossible that the streets would hold them. While our hero looked through the window to observe Rosser, who arranged his crockery in front of the inn, his attention was suddenly caught by the sound of a harp, which proceeded from the kitchen. To his great surprise, he found the performer to be his old friend the venerable Ianto Gwyn of Tregaron.
The old man was very glad to see him, and after learning the particulars of the fortunes he had met since he left his native town, proceeded to inform him of the Tregaron news. His mother was well three weeks ago, and had received the various sums which he had sent her at different times, and was in daily hopes of burying her churl of a husband. Rachael Ketch was now dead; having broken her heart for the loss of her money, which had been stolen by Watt the mole-catcher, who was transported.
In conclusion, the old man said that he had come to the Eisteddvod rather as a spectator than a candidate for the prize, having accidentally hurt his right hand, which nearly disabled him altogether from playing. “That circumstance is now the more provoking,” said the old man, “as I am convinced that were my hand well, I should certainly win the noble silver harp, which is to be the meed of the best player.”
Twm took his musical friend upstairs, and, after dining together, began coquetting with the harp, which with the hand of a ready player, he soon tinkled into alternate fits of grief and laughter, as he ran over many of our most popular airs.