Part 12 (2/2)

At this moment a countryman was about to pa.s.s him on the road, in whose hand he recognized his bundle, containing his feminine attire, which in his terror he had dropped, and it rolled from the side of the road, it seems, into the ditch, previous to the halt of the highwayman. Twm immediately claimed his property, but the fellow seemed disinclined to attend to him, until vehemently insisting on his right, he evinced an inclination to battle with him; when satisfied with this very convincing sort of logic, the clown made rest.i.tution.

His little affray with the would-be-dishonest countryman, had not obliterated the thought of our hero with respect to highwaymen, and their independent style of existence, and with his mind still occupied, with the gentlemen of the road, he came to a small public-house near Aberayon, but which was so inconveniently crowded that he could scarce find a seat.

With the exception of two or three fishermen and other seafarers, these were people who made a temporary halt on their way to Cardigan fair; low booth-keepers, fruit and gingerbread sellers, and suchlike. Twm called for beer and refreshment, and while eating, observed the habits of these strange people with much curiosity. He had contrived to squeeze himself into a window-seat between two females who sat apart and civilly made room for him, and pressed his acceptance of the place.

Twm was delighted with his new position, and he was not a little surprised with the contrast which the kindness and affability of his fair companions offered to the rude gestures and uncouth speech of the remainder of the party. He did not think worse of them when he discovered that one was a gipsy fortune-teller, and the other a ballad-singer. He could not do less, he thought, than ask them to partake of his cup, and they found themselves bound in honour, in their great devotion to his health, to return it empty each time he handed it to them full.

Such gallantry on the one hand, and confidence and affability on the other, begot a sudden friends.h.i.+p between them; the gipsy insisting upon telling his fortune gratis, and the ballad-singer on the acceptance of two or three favourite songs; while Twm reciprocating in the warmest style, their affectionate attentions, ordered indefinite supplies of ”nut-brown,” on which he and his fair ones regaled to their hearts'

content.

While Twm was busily employed in looking over the bundle of ballads, among which he met many old friends, which he had frequently sung, one of the friendly nymphs was beckoned to, by a man at the opposite end of the kitchen, with whom they went out, and the gipsy soon followed them.

Our hero having selected the songs that pleased him, waited impatiently the return of the damsels. No sign of their re-appearance being visible, and all the fair people having left one by one, until Twm found himself quite alone, he inquired of the landlord if he knew where the young women had gone to. He said he did not, but that the whole party having paid him were gone off, and he had no further business with them.

Twm thought the ballad-singer a singular good-natured young woman, as she had left her bundles of melody with him, doubtless as a present, and merely taken herself away thus modestly, instead of ostentatiously proclaiming her gift, and receiving his thanks. His opinion was slightly changed, when wishful to pay the landlord, he found he had not a halfpenny in his pocket. His vexation and confusion were evident to mine host, who declared that his face was turned as white as the wall. Having searched every pocket over and over, at length the doleful tale came out that he had lost his money, and could not tell how.

”Why, as to that,” said the landlord, with bitter coolness, ”if it is any satisfaction to know _how_ you lost your money, I can tell you; it was by sitting between two thieves-a gipsy and a ballad-singer and what could you expect else from mixing with such cattle?” Poor Twm remained silent, in a miserable mood, with his elbows resting on the table, and with his temples in the palms of his hands, for a full half hour; when the landlord disturbed his meditations by asking payment for his fare; good-naturedly adding, ”If you have no money, I don't wish to be hard with you, you can merely leave your jacket with me instead.” ”My jacket!” quoth he indignantly; ”why that is ten times the value of what I owe you.” ”That's just as people think; but those are my terms, and you should be glad that I'll take it in place of good hard cash,” was the reply of the uncompromising old fellow. The fishermen in the mean time pa.s.sed on him their rough and scurvy jokes, one observing, ”You can sing ballads without a jacket, so I advise you to go to the fair at Cardigan, where you may perhaps meet your old friends.”

Twm was too despondent to be much effected by these feeble attempts at wit, but he determined to accept the suggestion of the last speaker, and make his first appearance as a public vocalist in Cardigan, so without more ado he took off his jacket and gave it to the host, muttering a curse on his cruelty, and commenced his journey. The dress of Cadwgan's wife was again put on, not only as a fit disguise for his minstrel vocation, but a more perfect guard against the weather than his own, since deprived of his upper-garment; and thus equipped he once more took to the road, his late experience having completely sobered him, and left him depressed in spirits, as he glanced at the scene in which he had been thoroughly victimized.

CHAPTER XXI.

TWM'S appearance as a ”fair” ballad singer at Cardigan. A sudden alarm.

Poor Parson Inco. Twm's hasty flight.

”The longest lane has a turning,” and the weariest journey has an end, and at length Twm found himself in Cardigan, and prepared himself at once to commence his whimsical vocation. Although naturally bold, and more full of confidence than beseemed the modesty of youth, it was not without considerable efforts in struggling with some remains of diffidence that he at length ventured to sing in the public street; but he had fortified himself with a draught of strong beer, and his voice, in his own opinion, being almost unequalled in the country, he thought it foolish to hesitate. He fixed himself in rather an obscure part of the fair; but his musical voice and humorous execution of a comic song soon drew a crowd about him, and put his ballads in speedy request.

Adapting the usual gait and manner of street-vocalists, holding his hand to his mouth to secure increased power, he introduced each song with a whimsical description of its matter, in a strain of drollery that set the grinning rustics in high glee; ”Here, my merry men and maidens,” quoth he, ”is a pretty song about a young damsel, who was taken in by a false lover, that courted her for what he could get, and having wheedled her out of her heart and money, ran away and left her to wear the willow.”

THE SLIGHTED MAID'S LAMENT. {149}

In comfort and in credit, By the side of Pen-y-vole I lived:-all knew and said it, None could my will control; Until a worthless lover Did try my heart to move: Ah, soon my joys were over!

I listened to his love.

From far he travelled to me, Full many and many a night, I thought he came to woo me- My heart was all delight: My cash he thought of gaining, It was not me he sought, E'er mourning and complaining For clothes-and clothes I bought.

A pair of shoes I placed him Between his soles and ground, With stockings then I graced him, With hat his head I crown'd; Red garters then I bought him, At fair the best I saw, To bind his hose, od rod him!

Instead of bands of straw.

I bought him leather breeches Strong as a barley sack, And laid out half my riches To clothe the beggar's back; I gave him money willing, (Vexation now upbraids!) With which the thankless villain Soon treated other maids.

When thus he had bereft me Of cash, and ah, my heart!

The cruel rover left me, It grieved me then to part; Those clothes will rend in tatters, They cannot last him long: A curse attends such matters, False lovers curse is strong!

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