The Comical Adventures of Twm Shon Catty (Thomas Jones, Esq.), / Commonly known as the Welsh Robin Hood

by T. J. Llewelyn Prichard

Three victims had already succumbed to the ravages of the disease, and their fourth child now lay at the door of death. Lamentations and groans were continual, but no proper means for the recovery of the patients were adopted. A poor hedge carpenter came from the distant village of Mawn Dee, and brought with him the last covering of the victims of disease, placing them, with assistance, in the slight alder coffins; the parents took their heart-rent final look, and sank insensible with excessive grief;—and yet the nurses feasted. They continued to roast and boil, piously hoping their valuable services would be long wanted; and although none of the family could partake of their cookery, yet, the nurses feasted! These good ladies, however, were rather disturbed at this time in their comfortable doings, as some of the Mawn Dee women, like the vulture which smells the warfield and the human gore afar off, followed in the wake of the carpenter, hoping by a little canting condolement with the family, to be engaged; but finding the field occupied, they were guilty, as their opponents said, of the heinous offence of offering their services gratis, to sit up in their turn and watch the sick.

This, it must be said, was ever a welcome office to persons of this description, especially at a substantial house; as on such occasions as watching the sick, and laying out the dead, feasting is as prevalent as at weddings. As the paid nurses who assumed the consequence of regulars, failed to eject the volunteers, who were more numerous, they revenged themselves by giving them all the work to do except what appertained to swilling and mastication; their own veteran talents bearing the full brunt of that important piece of service, which was not to be trusted to mere mercenary recruits.

Superstition was rampant amongst these old hen-wives. All sorts of intimations concerning future events were made out of very simple occurrences. No one must go under a ladder, if they would enter the matrimonial noose. Salt was a very unfortunate article of diet, whilst candlewicks were made a medium for the discovery of a coming death. Some of these old grannies dilated upon corpse candles seen by them previous to the deaths of the young women of the house; others dilated on the awfulness of a spectral burial, where shadows of the living supported the bier of the departed towards the church-yard.

One night, between twelve and one, while the three coffins and their contents presented a woeful sight, lying side by side on the oak table, Morris, afflicted as he was, assisted his wife in supporting by the fireside his fourth daughter, whose death they also deeply dreaded, as an old cottage woman, while she basted a loin of mutton roasting before the fire, dwelt much on the certainty of supernatural appearances, illustrating her convictions by instances of her own experience. All at once, the current of her discourse was arrested by a shudder that overcame and struck her dumb, on hearing a rumbling and irregular noise, as of falling furniture, which also terrified the group about the fire. The noise increased, and at last seemed as if somebody was stumbling in his way in the dark.

Some shrieked, some rose and ran to remote corners, covering their head with their aprons, while others sat breathless, as if nailed to the bench, and dissolved in streams of perspiration, their eyes starting from their sockets—when a figure with the air and rush of a maniac darted in, tore the roasting meat from the string, and disappeared with it, uttering in a dismal hollow tone,

“O God, I am famished by these wretches!” The consciences of the farmer and his wife were dreadfully wrung, as they recollected the poor apprentice Twm, whom they had left in the depth of the malady which had deprived them of three of their children, to live or to die, as he might; nor would Morris allow anybody to rescue the meat, but snatching a loaf from the shelf, he entreated Twm to come in and eat his fill at the fire. But the youngster having secured the bread, re-entered his hay-loft, and with the ravenousness of a starved hound devoured his precious prey in darkness. That was the sweetest meal ever eaten by our hero.

In narrating this event in after life, he used to say that the theft of this joint saved his life. He was then as ravenous as a wolf, and was only endowed with supernatural strength for the moment, to effect his purpose. While yet the farmer, with tears of real penitence, was calling out to him, a loud scream from his wife convinced him that his fourth child was also dead.

With wild and insupportable agony, Morris fell upon his knees, and with interrupting sobs exclaimed, “I see the hand of Heaven in this, and a heavy judgment has befallen us for our cruelty to the poor boy; but he will live! he! the lad whom we treated fouler than the beast! he will outlive this pest, while I and mine perish.”

The suffering of the unhappy man was pitiable and heart-rending to witness; and on the very day of his children’s burial, with loud cries of remorse and sorrow, he expired.

Twm recovered, according to the farmer’s prediction, which was further verified, inasmuch as the remainder of his children did not live to see the end of the year; and his wife, losing her senses, was ever after a wretched moping idiot.