“Twm, I take shame to myself for the manner in which we met and parted last, but I was sober then! and in my grave and sober moods all the evil and bitterness of my heart come out; now I am rather mellow, there’s nothing but good in me.” On being asked when he intended to return to Tregaron, Watt ground his teeth and exclaimed—“never!” adding, “it is not from fear of old Inco Evans, for I stayed there as long as I pleased, in spite of him, notwithstanding my promise to the contrary. But for other reasons Tregaron has been made too hot for me.”
The whole of the drinking party having gradually dropped off, Watt and our hero were left alone, when the latter with much feeling asked his old companion what was the meaning of the extraordinary change of manner, and of character, which he perceived in him.
“I’ll tell thee, lad, what’s the meaning—it means that instead of the frank merry fellow I was in the dear gone days, I now am—call it what you like, but,”—cried Watt, laughing with wet eyes, “some of my dear friends who scorn flattery, would say a d—ed rascal, and I quite agree with them. But never mind—I belong to the strongest party after all.”
Our hero here pressed him for something of a connected account of his adventures since he left Tregaron; on which Watt immediately assented, and ran them over in the following off-hand strain.
“You remember, I dare say, Twm, that when you were only a child, that I was famed throughout the village as a wit and joker; in short, that I was the funny fellow of Tregaron, and my ambition was to retain this title. The comical tricks and humorous saying of Watt the mole-catcher, made mirth at every farmer’s heath, and their tables were spread with food for me whenever I called. As I grew older, my pleasures and antipathies acquired a stronger cast; and there were but few in our adjoining parishes who were subject either to execration or ridicule, and dreaded my satire and exposure.
“I formed attachments more than once among the daughters of the farmers, whom I had frequently entertained at the social evening hearth; but although my jests were relished, my overtures were rejected. In short, I found that while mirth, innocence and harmless wit were my companions, parents generally disposed of their daughters to young men of characters directly opposite to mine—the stupidly grave, and thrifty, no matter how knavish. My eyes were at length opened; and I found that the funny man, however amusing as an acquaintance, was coveted by none as a relative, but considered as a mere diverging vagabond at best. Well, thought I, this will never do; but since gravity is the order of the day, I will be as grave and roguish as the most successful of my fellow-men. Having come to this conclusion, I studied knavery, that is to say, thrifty rascality like a science.
“As the first step I went immediately to my grandmother, who had often exhorted me to quit my sinful mirth and become serious, when I assured her of my conversion, in token of which I threw myself on my knees, and entreated her blessing. She afterwards took me to a puritanic chapel, and in that assembly, where I had often pinned the skirts and gown-tails of the elect together, the poor old doting soul in the pride of her heart exhibited her convert to the gaze of the saints; but neglected to inform them that I had robbed her that same evening of half the contents of her pocket, as she lay asleep. I was not long in discovering that a sedate aspect was a goodly mask for the most profitable villainy, and therefore determined to wear it for life. Laughter, jest, and mirthful humour, and all those thriftless indications of the light and harmless heart, I abjured for ever.
“I now gave a respite to the rats and moles, and set up as a butcher at Tregaron; and for one sheep that I bought of the farmers, I stole three, and slaughtered them either by moonlight on the hills, or by candle-light in my own cottage. Although I daily bettered my condition, I considered this but a slow and creeping course of thrift; and therefore, as conscience no longer stood in my way, I meditated some bolder way of leaping into property at once.
“You know that wrinkled old she-usurer of Tregaron, Rachel Ketch, who made money, Heaven knows how, and increased it by lending out to country people, at a higher rate than city usurers dared to ask. In the bitterness of my heart, after losing all hope of a girl, whom I had long doated on, I went to the old Jezabel and sought her hand in marriage; aye, and would have taken her were she ten times as loathsome, in the anxious hope of her speedy death, and of succeeding to her golden hoards. I strove to recommend myself by assuring her I was the most finished scoundrel in existence; and that when gain was my object, theft, perjury, and even murder, however hideous to silly innocents, had no power to scare me from my pursuit. This avowal of my noble qualifications I thought would have won her heart forever, but I was mistaken. The keen-eyed hag, who was never seen to smile before, laughed outright at my proposal.
“‘What! you want the old woman’s gold, master cut-throat of the muttons, do you? to slit her weasand also, and make away with her a month after marriage, like a troublesome old ewe;’ screamed she, as her spiteful black and broken snags grinned defiance, and her shrill tones broke out in laughs of mockery. I never saw mirth so damnable before! I felt myself the butt of her ridicule, humbled and degraded; and as my anger rose against the beldame, I resolved that since I could not wed her, to rob her would answer my purpose full as well. Accident supplied an opportunity; the little boys who had formerly been my favourites, and who in their innocence failed to recognize my change of character, I found it difficult to drive from me.