A young fox being started, our hero acquitted himself so amazingly to the satisfaction of his host by the most daring feats of leaping and yelling out, in the fox-hunter’s strain, “yoy, yoy, hark forward, wind him Juno!” and many other such expressions, that Sir George in the ecstacy of his feelings almost wept in the contemplation of such a promising genius, vowing that a year’s tuition under his first whipper-in would make him a truly great man, and a fit companion of princes. Grasping his hand with the tenacity of a blacksmith’s vice, he vowed that from that moment he had engrossed his name upon his heart, high on the list of his most choice friends.
Sir George was not one who limited his friendship to profession only; and, having learned from Twm his position in life, he became desirous to aid him permanently, and put him on the road to fortune, knowing right well that if he had only a glimpse of it, that he was wide awake enough never again to lose sight of it. He lost many nights’ rest in striving to settle this knotty point, and at last determined that he should live with him on the footing of a friend; indeed so necessary had he become to him in his hunts, that he at length declared it was impossible to part with him.
Thus, as an inmate of Ystrad Feen, Twm spent some of the happiest days of his life, for the best part of this, and the following year. Alternately hunting with the baronet and reading with his lady, who called him her hero, and made him an absolute show lion among her friends, Twm could not but feel this, as a remarkable contrast to the wretched life passed at the house of Morris Greeg.
Twm also enjoyed many happy hours with his staunch friend Rhys, at the houses of the surrounding rural potentates, where, on account of his brave reputation, and for his ready wit, so unsparingly lavished by him wherever he went, he speedily became a favourite. We shall close this somewhat long chapter with the relation of one of these adventures which gave universal satisfaction to his friends, and became the subject of remark and wonderment for many a year.
Llandovery was just at this time honoured by a visit from a London buck, who, thoroughly convinced of the utter darkness and benighted state of that retired district, had charitably come to reside amongst the miserable inhabitants thereof, that they might know and understand what civilization meant, as evinced in his own proper and illustrious person. He took a very ungracious way of teaching the important fact, for he did nothing but boast of the immense superiority of everything appertaining to his glorious self, and depreciate that which belonged to others.
Mr. Tomkins (that was his euphonious title) insisted that his gun, his fishing tackle, his boots, the cut of his coat, and everything that was his, was better than those belonging to any body else. But if there was one object above all others that engrossed his volubility, it was the praise of his horse; daily did he ring the changes on his wonderful animal, his feats, his beauty, blood, and pedigree, at every house where he visited.
One day after dinner at Ystrad Feen, in company with the baronet, Squire Prothero, our hero, and the ladies, he rudely asserted the superiority of his own horse to any in that country, when both our baronet and the squire seemed nettled at his disparaging remarks, which, had he not been his guest, it is probable Sir George would have resented.
He offered to wager fifty pounds that his horse should surpass the best of theirs in running or leaping, be the given feat what it might. Great and gratifying was their surprise when our hero, with much emphasis cried “done!” Adding, “I have a mare of no very splendid exterior that shall perform a feat, with myself on her back, that you and your boasted hunter dare not follow for your lives.”
“Done! for fifty pounds,” cried the London buck; “I’ll back him for a hundred, without knowing what he is at,” exclaimed the baronet; “And so will I,” roared and laughed the excited Squire Prothero. With unusual alacrity up rose all four, bent on having the bet lost or won instanter. “Now hasten all together up the hill towards Craig Ddu, and I will be with you in the cracking of a whip,” said Twm, as he hurried off in another direction. The two neighbours looked at each other, and wondered what would be the upshot of this adventure; but, having all faith in Twm, they attended the boastful Londoner to the place appointed.
The summit of Craig Ddu (the Black Rock) was soon reached, where they waited Twm’s arrival. The town-bred buck expressed impatience at the delay; adding with great complacency, “I intend, gentlemen, to teach this youngster a lesson that he will not forget as long as he lives.” “Ho, ho, ho!” laughed the portly Squire Prothero, “take care that he does not teach you one!” Scarcely were these words uttered when our hero appeared among them; but what was their dismay, and the sneers of his antagonist, when they beheld him mounted on a sorry old blind mare, scarcely worth a dozen shillings!