Ever afterwards, when this man passed the spot where he had met the Evil One, he found there money or other valuables. This latter incident connects this tale with Fairy Folk-Lore, as the Fair People were credited with bestowing gifts on mortals.



Satan appearing to a Collier.

John Roberts of Colliers' Row, Cyfartha, Merthyr, was once going to Aberdare over the mountain. On the top of the hill he was met by a handsome gentleman, who wore a three-cocked hat, a red waistcoat, and a blue coat. The appearance of this well dressed man took John Roberts's fancy; but he could not understand why he should be alone on Aberdare mountain, and, furthermore, why he did not know the way to Aberdare, for he had asked Roberts to direct him to the town. John stared at the gentleman, and saw clearly a cloven foot and a long tail protruding underneath the blue coat, and there and then the gentleman changed himself into a pig, which stood before John, gave a big grunt, and then ran away.

I received the story from a lady to whom Roberts related it.

All these tales belong to modern times, and some of them appear to be objectless as well as ridiculous.

There are a few places in Wales which take their names from Satan. The Devil's Bridge is so called from the tradition that it was erected by him upon the condition that the first thing that passed over it should be his. In his design he was balked, for his intended victim, who was accompanied by his faithful dog, threw a piece of bread across the bridge after which the dog ran, and thus became the Devil's property, but this victim Satan would not take.

The Devil's Kitchen is a chasm in the rock on the west side of Llyn Idwal, Carnarvonshire. The view through this opening, looking downwards towards Ogwen Lake, is sublime, and, notwithstanding its uncanny name, the Kitchen is well worthy of a visit from lovers of nature.

From the following quotation, taken from Y Gordofigion, p. 110, it would appear that there is a rock on the side of Cader Idris called after the Evil One. The words are:—

"Mae ar dir Rhiwogo, ar ochr Cader Idris, graig a elwir. 'Careg-gwr-drwg,' byth ar ol y Sabboth hwnw pan ddaeth yno at drigolion plwyfydd Llanfihangel Pennant ac Ystradgwyn, pan oeddynt wedi ymgasglu i chwareu cardiau, a dawnsio; ac y rhoddodd dro o amgylch y graig gan ddawnsio, ac y mae ol ei draed ar y graig eto."

This in English is as follows:—There is on the land belonging to Rhiwogo, on the side of Cader Idris, a rock called The Rock of the Evil One, so named ever after that Sabbath, when he came there to join the parishioners of Llanfihangel Pennant and Ystradgwyn, who had gathered together to play cards and dance, and there he danced around the rock, and to this day the marks of his feet are to be seen in the rock.

There were, perhaps are, in Pembrokeshire, two stones, called the Devil's Nags, which were haunted by Evil Spirits, who troubled the people that passed that way.

Ceubren yr Ellyll, the Hobgoblin's Hollow Tree, a noble oak, once ornamented Nannau Park, Merionethshire. Tradition says that it was within the trunk of this tree that Glyndwr buried his cousin, Howel Sele, who fell a victim to the superior strength and skill of his relative. Ever after that sad occurrence the place was troubled, sounds proceeded out of the tree, and fire hovered over it, and, according to a writer in The Cambro-Briton, vol. i., p. 226:—

E'en to this day, the peasant still With cautious fear treads o'er the ground; In each wild bush a spectre sees, And trembles at each rising sound.

One of the caves in Little Orme's Head, Llandudno, is known as Ogof Cythreuliaid, the Cave of Devils.

From the preceding names of places, which do not by any means exhaust the list, it will be seen that many romantic spots in Wales are associated with Demons.

There are also sayings in Welsh connected with the Evil One. Thus, in our days may be heard, when it rains and the sun shines at the same time, the expression, "Mae'r Gwr Drwg yn waldio'i wraig"—the Devil is beating his wife.

Besides the Biblical names, by which Satan is known, in Wales, there are several others in use, not to be found in the Bible, but it would seem that these names are borrowed being either importations or translations; in fact, it is doubtful, whether we possess any exclusively Welsh terms applied solely to the Devil. Andras or Andros is common in North Wales for the Evil One. Canon Silvan Evans in his Welsh Dictionary derives this word from an, without, and gras, grace; thus, the word becomes synonymous with gracelessness, and he remarks that, although the term is generally rendered devil, it is much softer than that term, or its Welsh equivalent diawl.

Y Fall is another term applied to Satan in Wales. Dr. Owen Pugh defines the word as what is squabby, bulky. The most common expressions for the devil, however, are Cythraul, and diawl, or diafol, but these two last named words are merely forms of Diabolos. Other expressions, such as Old Nick, Old Harry, have found a home in Wales. Y gwr drwg, the bad man, Gwas drwg, the wicked servant, Yr yspryd drwg, the wicked spirit, Yr hen fachgen, the old boy, and such like expressions, are also common. Silly women frighten small children by telling them that the Bo, the bogey, the bogey bo, or bolol, etc., will take them away if they are not quiet.



Ghosts, or Spirits.

Ghosts, or Spirits, were supposed to be the shades of departed human beings who, for certain reasons, were permitted to visit either nightly, or periodically, this upper world.

The hour that Spirits came to the earth was mid-night, and they remained until cock-crowing, when they were obliged to depart. So strongly did the people believe in the hours of these visits, that formerly no one would stay from home later than twelve o'clock at night, nor would any one proceed on a journey, until chanticleer had announced that the way was clear. Christmas Eve, however, was an exception, for during that night, no evil Spirit could appear.

It was thought that if two persons were together, one only could see the Spirit, to the other he was invisible, and to one person only would the Spirit speak, and this he would do when addressed; otherwise, he remained silent.

Ghosts re-visited the world to reveal hidden treasures, and the murdered haunted the place where their unburied bodies lay, or until vengeance overtook the murderer, and the wicked were doomed to walk the earth until they were laid in lake, or river, or in the Red Sea.

The presence of Spirits was announced by a clanking of chains, by shrieks, or other horrible noises, and dogs, and horses, were credited with the power of seeing Spirits. Horses trembled and perspired at their presence, and dogs whined and crouched at their approach.

The tales which I shall now relate throw a glimmering light on the subject now under consideration.



The Gloddaeth Ghost.

The following tale was told the Rev. Owen Jones, Pentrevoelas, by Thomas Davies, Tycoch, Rhyl, the hero in the story.

I may say that Gloddaeth Wood is a remnant of the primaeval forest that is mentioned by Sir John Wynn, in his History of the Gwydir Family, as extending over a large tract of the country. This wood, being undisturbed and in its original wild condition, was the home of foxes and other vermin, for whose destruction the surrounding parishes willingly paid half-a-crown per head. This reward was an inducement to men who had leisure, to trap and hunt these obnoxious animals. Thomas Davies was engaged in this work, and, taking a walk through the wood one day for the purpose of discovering traces of foxes, he came upon a fox's den, and from the marks about the burrow he ascertained that there were young foxes in the hole. This was to him a grand discovery, for, in anticipation, cubs and vixen were already his. Looking about him, he noticed that there was opposite the fox's den a large oak tree with forked branches, and this sight settled his plan of operation. He saw that he could place himself in this tree in such a position that he could see the vixen leave, and return to her den, and, from his knowledge of the habits of the animal, he knew she would commence foraging when darkness and stillness prevailed. He therefore determined to commence the campaign forthwith, and so he went home to make his preparations.

I should say that the sea was close to the wood, and that small craft often came to grief on the coast. I will now proceed with the story.

Davies had taken his seat on a bough opposite the fox's den, when he heard a horrible scream in the direction of the sea, which apparently was that of a man in distress, and the sound uttered was "Oh, Oh." Thus Davies's attention was divided between the dismal, "Oh," and his fox. But, as the sound was a far way off, he felt disinclined to heed it, for he did not think it incumbent on him to ascertain the cause of that distressing utterance, nor did he think it his duty to go to the relief of a suffering fellow creature. He therefore did not leave his seat on the tree. But the cry of anguish, every now and again, reached his ears, and evidently, it was approaching the tree on which Davies sat. He now listened the more to the awful sounds, which at intervals reverberated through the wood, and he could no longer be mistaken—they were coming in his direction. Nearer and nearer came the dismal "Oh! Oh!" and with its approach, the night became pitch dark, and now the "Oh! Oh! Oh!" was only a few yards off, but nothing could be seen in consequence of the deep darkness. The sounds however ceased, but a horrible sight was presented to the frightened man's view. There, he saw before him, a nude being with eyes burning like fire, and these glittering balls were directed towards him. The awful being was only a dozen yards or so off. And now it crouched, and now it stood erect, but it never for a single instant withdrew its terrible eyes from the miserable man in the tree, who would have fallen to the ground were it not for the protecting boughs. Many times Davies thought that his last moment had come, for it seemed that the owner of those fiery eyes was about to spring upon him. As he did not do so, Davies somewhat regained his self possession, and thought of firing at the horrible being; but his courage failed, and there he sat motionless, not knowing what the end might be. He closed his eyes to avoid that gaze, which seemed to burn into him, but this was a short relief, for he felt constrained to look into those burning orbs, still it was a relief even to close his eyes: and so again and again he closed them, only, however, to open them on those balls of fire. About 4 o'clock in the morning, he heard a cock crow at Penbryn farm, and at the moment his eyes were closed, but at the welcome sound he opened them, and looked for those balls of fire, but, oh! what pleasure, they were no longer before him, for, at the crowing of the cock, they, and the being to whom they belonged, had disappeared.



Tymawr Ghost, Bryneglwys.

This Ghost plagued the servants, pinched and tormented them, and they could not get rest day nor night; such was the character of this Ghost as told me by Mr. Richard Jones, Ty'n-y-wern. But, said I, what was the cause of his acts, was it the Ghost of anyone who had been murdered? To this question, Jones gave the following account of the Ghost's arrival at Tymawr. A man called at this farm, and begged for something to eat, and as he was shabbily dressed, the girls laughed at him, and would not give him anything, and when going away, he said, speaking over his shoulder, "You will repent your conduct to me." In a few nights afterwards the house was plagued, and the servants were pinched all night. This went on days and days, until the people were tired of their lives. They, however, went to Griffiths, Llanarmon, a minister, who was celebrated as a Layer of Ghosts, and he came, and succeeded in capturing the Ghost in the form of a spider, and shut him up in his tobacco box and carried him away, and the servants were never afterwards plagued.



Ffrith Farm Ghost.

I am indebted to Mr. Williams, schoolmaster, Bryneglwys, for the history of this Ghost.

It was not known why Ffrith farm was troubled by a Ghost; but when the servants were busily engaged in cheese making the Spirit would suddenly throw mortar, or filthy matter, into the milk, and thus spoil the curds. The dairy was visited by the Ghost, and there he played havoc with the milk and dishes. He sent the pans, one after the other, around the room, and dashed them to pieces. The terrible doings of the Ghost was a topic of general conversation in those parts. The farmer offered a reward of five pounds to anyone who would lay the Spirit. One Sunday afternoon, about 2 o'clock, an aged priest visited the farm yard, and in the presence of a crowd of spectators exorcised the Ghost, but without effect. In fact, the Ghost waved a woman's bonnet right in the face of the priest. The farmer then sent for Griffiths, an Independent minister at Llanarmon, who enticed the Ghost to the barn. Here the Ghost appeared in the form of a lion, but he could not touch Griffiths, because he stood in the centre of a circle, which the lion could not pass over. Griffiths persuaded the Ghost to appear in a less formidable shape, or otherwise he would have nothing to do with him. The Ghost next came in the form of a mastiff, but Griffiths objected even to this appearance; at last, the Ghost appeared as a fly, which was captured by Griffiths and secured in his tobacco box, and carried away. Griffiths acknowledged that this Ghost was the most formidable one that he had ever conquered.

From this tale it would appear that some ghosts were more easily overcome than others.



Pont-y-Glyn Ghost.

There is a picturesque glen between Corwen and Cerrig-y-Drudion, down which rushes a mountain stream, and over this stream is a bridge, called Pont-y-Glyn. On the left hand side, a few yards from the bridge, on the Corwen side, is a yawning chasm, through which the river bounds. Here people who have travelled by night affirm that they have seen ghosts—the ghosts of those who have been murdered in this secluded glen.

A man who is now a bailiff near Ruthin, but at the time of the appearance of the Ghost to him at Pont-y-Glyn was a servant at Garth Meilio—states that one night, when he was returning home late from Corwen, he saw before him, seated on a heap of stones, a female dressed in Welsh costume. He wished her good night, but she returned him no answer. She, however, got up and proceeded down the road, which she filled, so great were her increased dimensions.

Other Spirits are said to have made their homes in the hills not far from Pont-y-Glyn. There was the Spirit of Ystrad Fawr, a strange Ghost that transformed himself into many things. I will give the description of this Ghost in the words of the author of Y Gordofigion.



Ysbryd Ystrad Fawr.

"Yr oedd Ysbryd yn Ystrad Fawr, ger Llangwm, yn arfer ymddangos ar brydiau ar lun twrci, a'i gynffon o'i amgylch fel olwyn troell. Bryd arall, byddai yn y coed, nes y byddai y rhai hyny yn ymddangos fel pe buasent oll ar dan; bryd arall, byddai fel ci du mawr yn cnoi asgwrn."—Y Gordofigion, p. 106.

Ystrad Fawr Ghost in English is as follows:—

There was a Ghost at Ystrad Fawr, near Llangwm, that was in the habit of appearing like a turkey with his tail spread out like a spinning wheel. At other times he appeared in the wood, when the trees would seem as if they were on fire, again he would assume the shape of a large black dog gnawing a bone.



Ty Felin Ghost, Llanynys.

An exciseman, overtaken by night, went to a house called Ty Felin, in the parish of Llanynys, and asked for lodgings. Unfortunately the house was a very small one, containing only two bedrooms, and one of these was haunted, consequently no one dared sleep in it. After awhile, however, the stranger induced the master to allow him to sleep in this haunted room; he had not been there long before a Ghost entered the room in the shape of a travelling Jew, and the Spirit walked around the room. The exciseman tried to catch him, and gave chase, but he lost sight of the Jew in the yard. He had scarcely entered the room, a second time, when he again saw the Ghost. He again chased him, and lost sight of him in the same place. The third time he followed the Ghost, he made a mark on the yard, where the Ghost vanished and went to rest, and was not again troubled. He got up early and went his way, but, before long, he returned to Ty Felin accompanied by a policeman, whom he requested to dig in the place where his mark was. This was done, and, underneath a superficial covering, a deep well was discovered, and in it a corpse. On examining the tenant of the house, he confessed that a travelling Jew, selling jewelry, etc., once lodged with him, and that he had murdered him, and cast his body in the well.



Llandegla Spirit.

The tale of this Spirit was given me by Mr. Roberts, late Schoolmaster of Llandegla. A small river runs close to the secluded village of Llandegla, and in this mountain stream under a huge stone lies a wicked Ghost. The tale is as follows:—

The old Rectory at Llandegla was haunted; the Spirit was very troublesome; no peace was to be got because of it; every night it was at its work. A person of the name of Griffiths, who lived at Graianrhyd, was sent for to lay the Ghost. He came to the Rectory, but the Spirit could not be overcome. It is true Griffiths saw it, but in such a form that he could not approach it; night after night, the Spirit appeared in various forms, but still the conjurer was unable to master it. At last it came to the wise man in the form of a fly, which Griffiths immediately captured, and placed in a small box. This box he buried under a large stone in the river, just below the bridge, near the Llandegla Mills, and there the Spirit is to remain until a certain tree, which grows by the bridge, reaches the height of the parapet, and then, when this takes place, the Spirit shall have power to regain his liberty. To prevent this tree from growing, the school children, even to this day, nip the upper branches, and thus retard its upward growth. Mr. Roberts received the story I have given, from the old Parish Clerk, John Jones the weaver, who died a few years ago.



Lady Jeffrey's Spirit.

This lady could not rest in her grave because of her misdeeds, and she troubled people dreadfully; at last she was persuaded or enticed to contract her dimensions, and enter into a bottle. She did so, after appearing in a good many hideous forms; but when she got into the bottle, it was corked down securely, and the bottle was cast into the pool underneath the Short bridge, Llanidloes, and there the lady was to remain until the ivy that grew up the buttresses should overgrow the sides of the bridge, and reach the parapet. The ivy was dangerously near the top of the bridge when the writer was a schoolboy, and often did he and his companions crop off its tendrils as they neared the prescribed limits for we were all terribly afraid to release the dreaded lady out of the bottle. In the year 1848, the old bridge was blown up, and a new one built instead of it. A schoolfellow, whom we called Ben, was playing by the aforesaid pool when the bridge was undergoing reconstruction, and he found by the river's side a small bottle, and in the bottle was a little black thing, that was never quiet, but it kept bobbing up and down continually, just as if it wanted to get out. Ben kept the bottle safely for a while, but ere long he was obliged to throw it into the river, for his relations and neighbours came to the conclusion that that was the very bottle that contained Lady Jeffrey's Spirit, and they also surmised that the little black restless thing was nothing less than the lady herself. Ben consequently resigned the bottle and its contents to the pool again, there to undergo a prolonged, but unjust, term of imprisonment.



Pentrevoelas.—Squire Griffith's Ghost.

A couple of workmen engaged at Foelas, the seat of the late Squire Griffiths, thought they would steal a few apples from the orchard for their children, and for this purpose one evening, just before leaving off work, they climbed up a tree, but happening to look down, whom should they see but the Squire, wearing his three-cornered hat, and dressed in the clothes he used to wear when alive, and he was leaning against the trunk of the tree on which they were perched. In great fright they dropped to the ground and took to their heels. They ran without stopping to Bryn Coch, but there, to their horror, stood the Squire in the middle of the road quietly leaning on his staff. They again avoided him and ran home every step, without looking behind them. The orchard robbers never again saw their late master, nor did they ever again attempt to rob the orchard.



David Salisbury's Ghost.

I will quote from Bye-Gones, vol. iii., p. 211, an account of this Spirit.

"There was an old Welsh tradition in vogue some fifty years ago, that one David Salisbury, son of Harri Goch of Llanrhaiadr, near Denbigh, and grandson to Thomas Salisbury hen of Lleweni, had given considerable trouble to the living, long after his remains had been laid in the grave. A good old soul, Mr. Griffiths of Llandegla, averred that he had seen his ghost, mounted upon a white horse, galloping over hedges and ditches in the dead of night, and had heard his 'terrible groans,' which, he concluded, proceeded from the weight of sin troubling the unhappy soul, which had to undergo these untimely and unpleasant antics. An old Welsh ballad entitled 'Ysbryd Dafydd Salbri,' professed to give the true account of the individual in question, but the careful search of many years has failed me in securing a copy of that horrible song.

GORONWY IFAN."

This Spirit fared better than most of his compeers, for they, poor things, were, according to the popular voice, often doomed to ride headless horses, which madly galloped, the livelong night, hither and thither, where they would, to the great terror of the midnight traveller who might meet this mad unmanageable creature, and also, as it would seem, to the additional discomfort of the unfortunate rider.

It is, or was believed in Gyffylliog parish, which is in the recesses of the Denbighshire mountains, four or five miles to the west of Ruthin, that the horses ridden by Spirits and goblins were real horses, and it was there said when horses were found in their stables at dawn in a state of perspiration that they had been taken out in the night and ridden by Spirits about the country, and hence their jaded condition in the morning.

It was also thought that the horses found in the morning in their pasture ground with tangled manes and tails, and bodies covered with mud, had been during the night used by Spirits, who rushed them through mire and brier, and that consequently they presented the appearance of animals who had followed the hounds in a long chase through a stiff country.

There is a strong family likeness between all Ghost stories, and a lack of originality in their construction, but this suggests a common source from which the majority of these fictions are derived.

I now come to another phase of Spirit Folk-Lore, which has already been alluded to, viz., the visits of Ghosts for the purpose of revealing hidden treasures. The following tale, which I took down from the mouth of John Rowland, at one time the tenant of Plas-yn-llan, Efenechtyd, is an instance of this kind of story.



A Ghost Appearing to point out Hidden Treasures.

There is a farm house called Clwchdyrnog in the parish of Llanddeusant, Anglesey, which was said to have been haunted by a Spirit. It seems that no one would summon courage to speak to the Ghost, though it was seen by several parties; but one night, John Hughes, Bodedern, a widower, who visited the house for the purpose of obtaining a second Mrs. Hughes from among the servant girls there, spoke to the Ghost. The presence of the Spirit was indicated by a great noise in the room where Hughes and the girl were. In great fright Hughes invoked the Spirit, and asked why he troubled the house. "Have I done any wrong to you," said he, addressing the Spirit. "No," was the answer. Then he asked if the girl to whom he was paying his attentions was the cause of the Spirit's visit, and again he received the answer, "No." Then Hughes named individually all the inmates of the house in succession, and inquired if they were the cause of the Spirit's visits, and again he was answered in the negative. Then he asked why, since no one in the house had disturbed the Spirit, he came there to disturb the inmates. To this pertinent question the Spirit answered as follows:—"There are treasures hidden on the south side of Ffynnon Wen, which belong to, and are to be given to, the nine months old child in this house: when this is done, I will never disturb this house any more."

The spot occupied by the treasure was minutely described by the Spirit, and Hughes promised to go to the place indicated. The next day, he went to the spot, and digging into the ground, he came upon an iron chest filled with gold, silver, and other valuables, and all these things he faithfully delivered up to the parents of the child to be kept by them for him until he should come of age to take possession of them himself. This they faithfully did, and the Spirit never again came to the house.

John Rowland, my informant, was a native of Anglesey, and he stated that all the people of Llanddeusant knew of the story which he related to me. He was eighty-three years old at the time he told me the tale, and that was in October, 1882.

But one of the most singular tales of the appearance of a Ghost is recorded in the autobiography of the grandfather of the late Mr. Thomas Wright, the well-known Shropshire antiquary. Mr. Wright's grandfather was a Methodist, and in the early days of that body the belief in apparitions was not uncommon amongst them. The story was told Mr. Wright, sen., in 1780, at the house, in Yorkshire, of Miss Bosanquet (afterwards the wife of Fletcher of Madeley), by Mr. John Hampson, sen., a well-known preacher among the Methodists, who had just arrived from Wales.

As the scene of the tale is laid in Powis Castle, I will call this visitation



The Powis Castle Ghost revealing a Hidden Box to a Woman.

The following is the narrative:—It had been for some time reported in the neighbourhood that a poor unmarried woman, who was a member of the Methodist Society, and had become serious under their ministry, had seen and conversed with the apparition of a gentleman, who had made a strange discovery to her. Mr. Hampson, being desirous to ascertain if there was any truth in the story, sent for the woman, and desired her to give him an exact relation of the whole affair from her own mouth, and as near the truth as she possibly could. She said she was a poor woman, who got her living by spinning hemp and line; that it was customary for the farmers and gentlemen of that neighbourhood to grow a little hemp or line in a corner of their fields for their own home consumption, and as she was a good hand at spinning the materials, she used to go from house to house to inquire for work; that her method was, where they employed her, during her stay to have meat, and drink, and lodging (if she had occasion to sleep with them), for her work, and what they pleased to give her besides. That, among other places, she happened to call one day at the Welsh Earl of Powis's country seat, called Redcastle, to inquire for work, as she usually had done before. The quality were at this time in London, and had left the steward and his wife, with other servants, as usual, to take care of their country residence in their absence. The steward's wife set her to work, and in the evening told her that she must stay all night with them, as they had more work for her to do next day. When bedtime arrived, two or three of the servants in company, with each a lighted candle in her hand, conducted her to her lodging. They led her to a ground room, with a boarded floor, and two sash windows. The room was grandly furnished, and had a genteel bed in one corner of it. They had made her a good fire, and had placed her a chair and a table before it, and a large lighted candle upon the table. They told her that was her bedroom, and she might go to sleep when she pleased. They then wished her a good night and withdrew altogether, pulling the door quickly after them, so as to hasp the spring-sneck in the brass lock that was upon it. When they were gone, she gazed awhile at the fine furniture, under no small astonishment that they should put such a poor person as her in so grand a room and bed, with all the apparatus of fire, chair, table, and candle. She was also surprised at the circumstance of the servants coming so many together, with each of them a candle. However, after gazing about her some little time, she sat down and took a small Welsh Bible out of her pocket, which she always carried about with her, and in which she usually read a chapter—chiefly in the New Testament—before she said her prayers and went to bed. While she was reading she heard the room door open, and turning her head, saw a gentleman enter in a gold-laced hat and waistcoat, and the rest of his dress corresponding therewith. (I think she was very particular in describing the rest of his dress to Mr. Hampson, and he to me at the time, but I have now forgot the other particulars).

He walked down by the sash-window to the corner of the room and then returned. When he came to the first window in his return (the bottom of which was nearly breast-high), he rested his elbow on the bottom of the window, and the side of his face upon the palm of his hand, and stood in that leaning posture for some time, with his side partly towards her. She looked at him earnestly to see if she knew him, but, though from her frequent intercourse with them, she had a personal knowledge of all the present family, he appeared a stranger to her. She supposed afterwards that he stood in this manner to encourage her to speak; but as she did not, after some little time he walked off, pulling the door after him as the servants had done before.

She began now to be much alarmed, concluding it to be an apparition, and that they had put her there on purpose. This was really the case. The room, it seems, had been disturbed for a long time, so that nobody could sleep peaceably in it, and as she passed for a very serious woman, the servants took it into their heads to put the Methodist and Spirit together, to see what they would make of it.

Startled at this thought, she rose from her chair, and kneeled down by the bedside to say her prayers. While she was praying he came in again, walked round the room, and came close behind her. She had it on her mind to speak, but when she attempted it she was so very much agitated that she could not utter a word. He walked out of the room again, pulling the door after him as before.

She begged that God would strengthen her and not suffer her to be tried beyond what she was able to bear. She recovered her spirits, and thought she felt more confidence and resolution, and determined if he came in again she would speak to him, if possible.

He presently came in again, walked round, and came behind her as before; she turned her head and said, "Pray, sir, who are you, and what do you want?" He put up his finger, and said, "Take up the candle and follow me, and I will tell you." She got up, took up the candle, and followed him out of the room. He led her through a long boarded passage till they came to the door of another room, which he opened and went in. It was a small room, or what might be called a large closet. "As the room was small, and I believed him to be a Spirit," she said, "I stopped at the door; he turned and said, 'Walk in, I will not hurt you.' So I walked in. He said, 'Observe what I do.' I said, 'I will.' He stooped, and tore up one of the boards of the floor, and there appeared under it a box with an iron handle in the lid. He said, 'Do you see that box?' I said, 'Yes, I do.' He then stepped to one side of the room, and showed me a crevice in the wall, where, he said, a key was hid that would open it. He said, 'This box and key must be taken out, and sent to the Earl in London' (naming the Earl, and his place of residence in the city). He said, 'Will you see it done?' I said, 'I will do my best to get it done.' He said, 'Do, and I will trouble the house no more.' He then walked out of the room and left me." (He seems to have been a very civil Spirit, and to have been very careful to affright her as little as possible). "I stepped to the room door and set up a shout. The steward and his wife, and the other servants came to me immediately, all clung together, with a number of lights in their hands. It seems they had all been waiting to see the issue of the interview betwixt me and the apparition. They asked me what was the matter? I told them the foregoing circumstances, and showed them the box. The steward durst not meddle with it, but his wife had more courage, and, with the help of the other servants, lugged it out, and found the key." She said by their lifting it appeared to be pretty heavy, but that she did not see it opened, and therefore did not know what it contained; perhaps money, or writings of consequence to the family, or both.

They took it away with them, and she then went to bed and slept peaceably till the morning.

It appeared afterwards that they sent the box to the Earl in London, with an account of the manner of its discovery and by whom; and the Earl sent down orders immediately to his steward to inform the poor woman who had been the occasion of this discovery, that if she would come and reside in his family, she should be comfortably provided for for the remainder of her days; or, if she did not choose to reside constantly with them, if she would let them know when she wanted assistance, she should be liberally supplied at his Lordship's expense as long as she lived. And Mr. Hampson said it was a known fact in the neighbourhood that she had been so supplied from his Lordship's family from the time the affair was said to have happened, and continued to be so at the time she gave Mr. Hampson this account.

Such is the tale. I will make no comments on it. Many similar stories are extant. After one more tale, I will leave these Spirit stories, and I will then relate how troublesome Ghosts were laid.

The Spirits of the preceding tales were sent from the unseen world to do good, but the Spirit of the maiden who gives a name to a Welsh lake, cried out for vengeance; but history does not inform us that she obtained satisfaction. There is a lake in Carnarvonshire called Llyn-Nad-y-Forwyn, or the Lake of the Maiden's Cry, to which is attached the following tale. I will call the tale



The Spirit of Llyn-Nad-y-Forwyn.

It is said that a young man was about to marry a young girl, and on the evening before the wedding they were rambling along the water's side together, but the man was false, and loved another better than the woman whom he was about to wed. They were alone in an unfrequented country, and the deceiver pushed the girl into the lake to get rid of her to marry his sweetheart. She lost her life. But ever afterwards her Spirit troubled the neighbourhood, but chiefly the scene of her murder. Sometimes she appeared as a ball of fire, rolling along the river Colwyn, at other times she appeared as a lady dressed in silk, taking a solitary walk along the banks of the river. At other times, groans and shrieks were heard coming out of the river—just such screams as would be uttered by a person who was being murdered. Sometimes a young maiden was seen emerging out of the waters, half naked, with dishevelled hair, that covered her shoulders, and the country resounded with her heart-rending crying as she appeared in the lake. The frequent crying of the Spirit gave to the lake its name, Llyn-Nad-y-Forwyn.



Spirit Laying.

It must have been a consolation to those who believed in the power of wicked Spirits to trouble people, that it was possible to lay these evil visitors in a pool of water, or to drive them away to the Red Sea, or to some other distant part of the world. It was generally thought that Spirits could be laid by a priest; and there were particular forms of exorcising these troublesome beings. A conjuror, or Dyn Hysbys, was also credited with this power, and it was thought that the prayer of a righteous man could overcome these emissaries of evil.

But there was a place for hope in the case of these transported or laid Spirits. It was granted to some to return from the Red Sea to the place whence they departed by the length of a grain of wheat or barley corn yearly. The untold ages that it would take to accomplish a journey of four thousand miles thus slowly was but a very secondary consideration to the annihilation of hope. Many were the conditions imposed upon the vanquished Spirits by their conquerors before they could be permitted to return to their old haunts, and well might it be said that the conditions could not possibly be carried out; but still there was a place for hope in the breast of the doomed by the imposition of any terminable punishment.

The most ancient instance of driving out a Spirit that I am acquainted with is to be found in the Book of Tobit. It seems to be the prototype of many like tales. The angel Raphael and Tobias were by the river Tigris, when a fish jumped out of the river, which by the direction of the angel was seized by the young man, and its heart, and liver, and gall extracted, and, at the angel's command carefully preserved by Tobias. When asked what their use might be, the angel informed him that the smoke of the heart and liver would drive away a devil or Evil Spirit that troubled anyone. In the 14th verse of the sixth chapter of Tobit we are told that a devil loved Sara, but that he did no harm to anyone, excepting to those who came near her. Knowing this, the young man was afraid to marry the woman; but remembering the words of Raphael, he went in unto his wife, and took the ashes of the perfumes as ordered, and put the heart and liver of the fish thereupon, and made a smoke therewith, the which smell, when the Evil Spirit had smelled, he fled into the utmost parts of Egypt, and the angel bound him. Such is the story, many variants of which are found in many countries.

I am grieved to find that Sir John Wynne, who wrote the interesting and valuable History of the Gwydir Family, which ought to have secured for him kindly recognition from his countrymen, was by them deposited after death, for troubling good people, in Rhaiadr y Wenol. The superstition has found a place in Yorke's Royal Tribes of Wales.

The following quotation is from the History of the Gwydir Family, Oswestry Edition, p. 7:—

"Being shrewd and successful in his dealings, people were led to believe he oppressed them," and says Yorke in his Royal Tribes of Wales, "It is the superstition of Llanrwst to this day that the Spirit of the old gentleman lies under the great waterfall, Rhaiadr y Wennol, there to be punished, purged, spouted upon and purified from the foul deeds done in his days of nature."

This gentleman, though, is not alone in occupying, until his misdeeds are expiated, a watery grave. There is hardly a pool in a river, or lake in which Spirits have not, according to popular opinion, been laid. In our days though, it is only the aged that speak of such matters.

A Spirit could in part be laid. It is said that Abel Owen's Spirit, of Henblas, was laid by Gruffydd Jones, Cilhaul, in a bottle, and buried in a gors near Llanrwst.

This Gruffydd Jones had great trouble at Hafod Ucha between Llanrwst and Conway, to lay a Spirit. He began in the afternoon, and worked hard the whole night and the next day to lay the Spirit, but he succeeded in overcoming a part only of the Spirit. He was nearly dead from exhaustion and want of food before he could even master a portion of the Spirit.

The preceding is a singular tale, for it teaches that Spirits are divisible. A portion of this Spirit, repute says, is still at large, whilst a part is undergoing purification.

The following tale was told me by my friend, the Rev. T. H. Evans, Vicar of Llanwddyn.



Cynon's Ghost.

One of the wicked Spirits which plagued the secluded Valley of Llanwddyn long before it was converted into a vast reservoir to supply Liverpool with water was that of Cynon. Of this Spirit Mr. Evans writes thus:—"Yspryd Cynon was a mischievous goblin, which was put down by Dic Spot and put in a quill, and placed under a large stone in the river below Cynon Isaf. The stone is called 'Careg yr Yspryd,' the Ghost Stone. This one received the following instructions, that he was to remain under the stone until the water should work its way between the stone and the dry land."

The poor Spirit, to all appearance, was doomed to a very long imprisonment, but Dic Spot did not foresee the wants and enterprise of the people of Liverpool, who would one day convert the Llanwddyn Valley into a lake fifteen miles in circumference, and release the Spirit from prison by the process of making their Waterworks.

I might here say that there is another version current in the parish besides that given me by Mr. Evans, which is that the Spirit was to remain under the stone until the river was dried up. Perhaps both conditions were, to make things safe, imposed upon the Spirit.

Careg yr Yspryd and Cynon Isaf were at the entrance to the Valley of Llanwddyn, and down this opening, or mouth of the valley, rushed the river—the river that was to be dammed up for the use of Liverpool. The inhabitants of the valley knew the tradition respecting the Spirit, and they much feared its being disturbed. The stone was a large boulder, from fifteen to twenty tons in weight, and it was evident that it was doomed to destruction, for it stood in the river Vyrnwy just where operations were to commence. There was no small stir among the Welsh inhabitants when preparations were made to blast the huge Spirit-stone. English and Irish workmen could not enter into the feeling of the Welsh towards this stone, but they had heard what was said about it. They, however, had no dread of the imprisoned Spirit. In course of time the stone was bored and a load of dynamite inserted, but it was not shattered at the first blast. About four feet square remained intact, and underneath this the Spirit was, if it was anywhere. The men were soon set to work to demolish the stone. The Welshmen expected some catastrophe to follow its destruction, and they were even prepared to see the Spirit bodily emerge from its prison, for, said they, the conditions of its release have been fulfilled—the river had been diverted from its old bed into an artificial channel, to facilitate the removal of this and other stones—and there was no doubt that both conditions had been literally carried out, and consequently the Spirit, if justice ruled, could claim its release. The stone was blasted, and strange to relate, when the smoke had cleared away, the water in a cavity where the stone had been was seen to move; there was no apparent reason why the water should thus be disturbed, unless, indeed, the Spirit was about to appear. The Welsh workmen became alarmed, and moved away from the place, keeping, however, their eyes fixed on the pool. The mystery was soon solved, for a large frog made its appearance, and, sedately sitting on a fragment of the shattered stone, rubbed its eyes with its feet, as if awaking from a long sleep. The question was discussed, "Is it a frog, or the Spirit in the form of a frog; if it is a frog, why was it not killed when the stone was blasted?" And again, "Who ever saw a frog sit up in that fashion and rub the dust out of its eyes? It must be the Spirit." There the workmen stood, at a respectful distance from the frog, who, heedless of the marked attention paid to it, continued sitting up and rubbing its eyes. They would not approach it, for it must be the Spirit, and no one knew what its next movement or form might be. At last, however, the frog was driven away, and the men re-commenced their labours. But for nights afterwards people passing the spot heard a noise as of heavy chains being dragged along the ground where the stone once stood.



Caellwyngrydd Spirit.

This was a dangerous Spirit. People passing along the road were stoned by it; its work was always mischievous and hurtful. At last it was exorcised and sent far away to the Red Sea, but it was permitted to return the length of a barley corn every year towards its lost home.

From the tales already given, it is seen that the people believed in the possibility of getting rid of troublesome Spirits, and the person whose aid was sought on these occasions was often a minister of religion. We have seen how Griffiths of Llanarmon had reached notoriety in this direction, and he lived in quite modern times. The clergy were often consulted in matters of this kind, and they were commonly believed to have power over Spirits. The Rev. Walter Davies had great credit as a Spirit layer, and he lived far into the present century. Going further back, I find that Archdeacon Edmund Prys, and his contemporary and friend, Huw Llwyd, were famous opponents of Evil Spirits, and their services are said to have been highly appreciated, because always successful. The manner of laying Spirits differed. In this century, prayer and Bible reading were usually resorted to, but in other days, incantation was employed. We have seen how Griffiths surrounded himself with an enchanted circle, which the Spirit could not break through. This ring was thought to be impervious to the Ghost tribe, and therefore it was the protection of the person whom it surrounded. The Spirit was invoked and commanded to depart by the person within the magic ring and it obeyed the mandate. Sometimes it was found necessary to conduct a service in Church, in Latin by night, the Church being lit up with consecrated candles, ere the Ghost could be overcome.

When Spirits were being laid, we are told that they presented themselves in various forms to the person engaged in laying them, and that ultimately they foolishly came transformed into some innocuous insect or animal, which he was able to overcome. The simplicity of the Ghosts is ridiculous, and can only be understood by supposing that the various steps in the contest for the mastery are not forthcoming, that they have been lost.

These various metamorphoses would imply that transmigration was believed in by our forefathers.



Ghost Raising.

If the possibility of Ghost Laying was believed in, so also was the possibility of raising Evil Spirits. This faith dates from olden times. Shakespeare, to this, as to most other popular notions, has given a place in his immortal plays. Speaking rightly in the name of "Glendower," a Welshman, conversant with Ghosts and Goblins, the poet makes him say:—

"I can call Spirits from the vasty deep."

Henry the Fourth, Act III., S. 1.

And again in the same person's mouth are placed these words:—

"Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command the devil."

The witches in Macbeth have this power ascribed to them:

I'll catch it ere it come to ground: And that, distilled by magic sleights, Shall raise such artificial Sprites, As by the strength of their illusion Shall draw him on to his confusion.

Macbeth, Act III., S. 5.

This idea has continued right to our own days, and adepts in the black art have affirmed that they possess this power.

Doctor Bennion, a gentleman well known in his lifetime in and about Oswestry, was thought to be able to raise Devils. I find in the history of Ffynnon Elian, p. 12, that the doctor visited John Evans, the last custodian of the well, and taught him how to accomplish this feat. For the benefit of those anxious to obtain this power, I will give the doctor's recipe:—"Publish it abroad that you can raise the Devil, and the country will believe you, and will credit you with many miracles. All that you have to do afterwards is to be silent, and you will then be as good a raiser of Devils as I am, and I as good as you."

Evans confesses that he acted according to the astute doctor's advice, and he adds—"The people in a very short time spoke much about me, and they soon came to intrust everything to me, their conduct frightened me, for they looked upon me as if I were a god." This man died August 14th, 1858.



Witches and Conjurors.

From and before the days of King Saul, to the present moment, witches have held dreaded sway over the affairs of man. Cruel laws have been promulgated against them, they have been murdered by credulous and infuriated mobs, they have lost their lives after legal trial, but still, witches have lived on through the dark days of ignorance, and even in these days of light and learning they have their votaries. There must be something in the human constitution peculiarly adapted to the exercise of witchcraft, or it could not have lived so long, nor could it have been so universal, as it undoubtedly is, unless men lent themselves willingly to its impositions.

It is curious to notice how good and enlightened men have clung to a belief in witchcraft. It is, consequently, not to be wondered at that the common people placed faith in witches and conjurors when their superiors in learning professed a like faith.

I have often spoken to intelligent men, who did not scruple to confess that they believed in witches and conjurors, and they adduced instances to prove that their faith had a foundation in fact.

Almost up to our days, the farmer who lost anything valuable consulted a conjuror, and vowed vengeance on the culprit if it were not restored by such and such a time, and invariably the stolen property was returned to its owner before the specified period had expired. As detectives, the conjurors, therefore, occupied a well-defined and useful place in rural morality, and witches, too, were indirectly teachers of charity, for no farm wife would refuse refreshments to the destitute lest vengeance should overtake her. In this way the deserving beggar obtained needed assistance from motives of self-preservation from benefactors whose fears made them charitable.

But, if these benefits were derived from a false faith, the evils attending that faith were nevertheless most disastrous to the community at large, and many inhuman Acts were passed in various reigns to eradicate witchcraft. From the wording of these Acts it will be seen what witches were credited with doing.

An Act passed 33 Henry VIII. adjudged all witchcraft and sorcery to be felony. A like Act was passed 1 James, c.12, and also in the reign of Philip and Mary. The following is an extract:—

"All persons who shall practise invocation, or conjuration, of wicked spirits, any witchcraft, enchantment, charm, or sorcery, whereby any person shall happen to be killed, or destroyed, shall, with their aiders, and abettors, be accounted felons, without benefit of clergy; and all persons practising any witchcraft, etc., whereby any person shall happen to be wasted, consumed, or lamed in his or her body, or members, or whereby any goods, or chattels, shall be destroyed, wasted, or impaired, shall, with their counsellors, and aiders, suffer for the first offence one year's imprisonment and the pillory, and for the second the punishment of felony without the clergy." . . . "If any person shall consult, covenant with, entertain, employ, feed, or reward any evil or wicked spirit, or take up any dead man, woman, or child out of his, her, or their grave; or, the skin, bone, or any other part of any dead person to be employed in any manner of witchcraft, sorcery, charm, or enchantment, etc., he shall suffer death as a felon, without benefit of clergy."

The law of James I. was repealed in George II.'s. reign, but even then persons pretending to use witchcraft, tell fortunes, or discover stolen goods, by skill in the occult sciences, were to be punished by a year's imprisonment; and by an Act, 5 George IV., c.83, any person or persons using any subtle art, means, or device, by palmistry, or otherwise, to deceive his Majesty's subjects, were to be deemed rogues and vagabonds, and to be punished with imprisonment and hard labour.

Acts of Parliament did not succeed in eradicating witchcraft. Its power has waned, but it still exercises an influence, shadowy though it be, on certain minds, though in its grosser forms it has disappeared.

Formerly, ailments of all kinds, and misfortunes of every description, were ascribed to the malignant influence of some old decrepit female, and it was believed that nature's laws could be changed by these witches, that they could at will produce tempests to destroy the produce of the earth, and strike with sickness those who had incurred their displeasure. Thus Lady Macbeth, speaking of these hags, says:—

"I have learned by the perfectest report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further they made themselves air, into which they vanished."

Macbeth, Act. i, S. 5.

The uncanny knowledge possessed by witches was used, it was thought, to injure people, and their malice towards good, hard-working, honest folk was unmistakable. They afflicted children from sheer love of cruelty, and bewitched animals gratuitously, or for slights which they supposed their owners had shown towards them; consequently their knowledge was considered to be greatly inimical to others, and particularly baneful to the industrious, whom witches hated.

There was hardly a district that had not its witches. Children ran away when they saw approaching them an aged woman, with a red shawl on, for they believed she was a witch, who could, with her evil eye, injure them. It was, however, believed that the machinations of witches could be counteracted in various ways, and by and by some of these charms shall be given. Life would have been intolerable but for these antidotes to witchcraft.

Shakespeare's knowledge of Welsh Folk-lore was extensive and peculiarly faithful, and what he says of witches in general agrees with the popular opinion respecting them in Wales. I cannot do better than quote from this great Folk-lorist a few things that he tells us about witches.

Mention has been made of witches taking dead bodies out of their graves to make use of them in their enchantments, and Shakespeare, in his description of the witches' cauldron, shows that they threw into the seething pot many portions of human beings. The first witch in Macbeth says:—

Round about the cauldron go, In the poisoned entrails throw.

The third witch mentions other things that are thrown into the pot, as:—

Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches' mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digged i' the dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse, Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-delivered by a drab.

Macbeth, A. IV., S. 1.

It was thought that witches could change themselves, and other people, into the form of animals. In Wales, the cat and the hare were the favourite animals into which witches transformed themselves, but they did not necessarily confine themselves to these animals. They were able to travel in the air on a broom-stick; make children ill; give maids the nightmare; curse with madness, animals; bring misfortune on families; hinder the dairy maid from making butter; and many more imaginary things were placed to their credit.

The personal appearance of witches, as given by Shakespeare, corresponds exactly with the Welsh idea of these hags. On this subject the poet writes:—

What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on't?—Live you? Or are you aught That man may question? You seem to understand me, By each at once her chappy fingers laying Upon her skinny lips:—you should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so.

Macbeth, Act I., S. 3.

A striking and pathetic portrait of a witch, taken from Otway's Orphan, Act. II., is given in No. 117 of the Spectator. It is so true to life and apposite to our subject that I will quote it:—

In a close lane, as I pursu'd my journey, I spy'd a wrinkled hag, with age grown double, Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself. Her eyes with scalding-rheum were gall'd, and red, Cold palsy shook her head, her hands seemed wither'd, And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapt The tatter'd remnant of an old striped hanging, Which served to keep her carcass from the cold; So there was nothing of a piece about her. Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patched, With different colour'd rags, black, red, white, yellow. And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness.

A picture such as this is enough to create sympathy and charity in a selfish heart, but in those dark days, when faith in witchcraft prevailed, such a poor old decrepit woman inspired awe, and was shunned as a malicious evil-doer by all her neighbours.



Llanddona Witches.

There is a tradition in the parish of Llanddona, Anglesey, that these witches, with their husbands, had been expelled from their native country, wherever that was, for practising witchcraft. They were sent adrift, it is said, in a boat, without rudder or oars, and left in this state to the mercy of the wind and the wave. When they were first discovered approaching the Anglesey shore, the Welsh tried to drive them back into the sea, and even after they had landed they were confined to the beach. The strangers, dead almost from thirst and hunger, commanded a spring of pure water to burst forth on the sands. This well remains to our days. This miracle decided their fate. The strangers were allowed, consequently, to land, but as they still practised their evil arts the parish became associated with their name, and hence the Witches of Llanddona was a term generally applied to the female portion of that parish, though in reality it belonged to one family only within its boundaries.

The men lived by smuggling and the women by begging and cursing. It was impossible to overcome these daring smugglers, for in their neckerchief was a fly, which, the moment the knot of their cravats was undone, flew right at the eye of their opponents and blinded them, but before this last remedy was resorted to the men fought like lions, and only when their strength failed them did they release their familiar spirit, the fly, to strike with blindness the defenders of the law.

The above-mentioned tradition of the coming of these witches to Anglesey is still current in the parish of Llanddona, which is situated on the north coast of Anglesey.

It was thought that the witching power belonged to families, and descended from mothers to daughters. This was supposed to be the case with the witches of Llanddona. This family obtained a bad report throughout the island. The women, with dishevelled hair and bared breasts, visited farm houses and requested charity, more as a right than a favour, and no one dared refuse them. Llanddona Witches is a name that is not likely soon to die. Taking advantage of the credulity of the people, they cursed those whom they disliked, and many were the endeavours to counteract their maledictions. The following is one of their curses, uttered at Y Ffynon Ocr, a well in the parish of Llanddona, upon a man who had offended one of these witches:—

Crwydro y byddo am oesoedd lawer; Ac yn mhob cam, camfa; Yn mhob camfa, codwm; Yn mhob codwm, tori asgwrn; Nid yr asgwrn mwyaf na'r lleiaf, Ond asgwrn chwil corn ei wddw bob tro.

The English is as follows, but the alliteration and rhythm of the Welsh do not appear in the translation:—

May he wander for ages many; And at every step, a stile; At every stile, a fall; At every fall, a broken bone; Not the largest, nor the least bone, But the chief neck bone, every time.

This curse seemed to be a common imprecation, possibly belonging to that family. Such was the terror of the Llanddona Witches that if any of them made a bid for a pig or anything else, in fair or market, no one else dared bid against them, for it was believed they would witch the animal thus bought. There were also celebrated witches at Denbigh. Bella Fawr (Big Bella) was one of the last and most famous of her tribe in that town, and many other places were credited with possessing persons endowed with witching powers, as well as those who could break spells.

The following tales of the doings of witches will throw light upon the matter under consideration.



Witches transforming themselves into Cats.

One of the forms that witches were supposed to change themselves into was that of a cat. In this metamorphosed state they were the more able to accomplish their designs. The following tale, illustrative of this belief, was told me by the Rev. R. Jones, Rector of Llanycil, Bala.

On the side of the old road, between Cerrig-y-drudion and Bettws-y-Coed—long before this latter place had become the resort of artists—stood an inn, which was much resorted to, as it was a convenient lodging house for travellers on their way to Ireland. This inn stood near the present village of Bettws-y-Coed. Many robberies occurred here. Travellers who put up there for the night were continually deprived of their money, and no one could tell how this occurred, for the lodgers were certain that no one had entered their rooms, as they were found locked in the morning just as they were the night before. The mystery was, therefore, great. By and by, one of those who had lost his money consulted Huw Llwyd, who lived at Cynvael, in the parish of Festiniog, and he promised to unravel the mystery. Now, Huw Llwyd had been an officer in the army, and, equipped in his regimentals, with sword dangling by his side, he presented himself one evening at the suspected inn, and asked whether he could obtain a room and bed for the night; he represented himself as on his way to Ireland, and he found no difficulty in obtaining a night's lodging. The inn was kept by two sisters of prepossessing appearance, and the traveller made himself most agreeable to these ladies, and entertained them with tales of his travels in foreign parts. On retiring for the night he stated that it was a habit with him to burn lights in his room all night, and he was supplied with a sufficient quantity of candles to last through the night. The request, as Hugh Llwyd was a military man, did not arouse suspicion. Huw retired, and made his arrangements for a night of watching. He placed his clothes on the floor within easy reach of his bed, and his sword unsheathed lay on the bed close to his right hand. He had secured the door, and now as the night drew on he was all attention; ere long two cats stealthily came down the partition between his room and the next to it. Huw feigned sleep, the cats frisked here and there in the room, but the sleeper awoke not; they chased each other about the room, and played and romped, and at last they approached Huw's clothes and played with them, and here they seemed to get the greatest amusement; they turned the clothes about and over, placing their paws now on that string, and now on that button, and ere long their paws were inserted into the pockets of his clothes, and, just as one of the cats had her paw in the pocket that contained Huw Llwyd's purse, he like lightning struck the cat's paw with his sword. With terrible screams they both disappeared, and nothing further was seen of them during the night.

Next morning, only one of the sisters appeared at the breakfast table. To the traveller's enquiry after the absent lady of the house, her sister said that she was slightly indisposed, and could not appear.

Huw Llwyd expressed regret at this, but, said he—"I must say good-bye to her, for I greatly enjoyed her company last night." He would not be refused, so ultimately he was admitted to her presence. After expressing his sympathy and regret at her illness, the soldier held out his hand to bid good-bye to the lady. She put out her left hand; this Huw refused to take, averring that he had never taken a left hand in his life, and that he would not do so now. Very reluctantly, and with evident pain, she put out her right hand, which was bandaged, and this fact cleared up the mystery connected with the robberies. These two ladies were two witches, who in the form of cats had robbed travellers who lodged under their roof. Huw, when he made this discovery said—"I am Huw Llwyd of Cynvael, and I warn you of the risk you have incurred by your thefts, and I promise you I will not let you off so easily the next time I have need to visit you."

The preceding tale is circumstantial, but unfortunately similar tales are current in other places, as shown by the following quotation:—

"The last instance of national credulity on this head was the story of the witches of Thurso, who, tormenting for a long time an honest fellow under the usual form of a cat, at last provoked him so that one night he put them to flight with his broad sword and cut off the leg of one less nimble than the rest. On his taking it up, to his amazement he found it belonged to a female of his own species, and next morning discovered the owner, an old hag, with only the companion leg to this."

Brand's Popular Antiquities, pp. 318-319.



The Witches' Revenge on Huw Llwyd.

Several months after the occurrence recorded above of Huw Llwyd, when he had just started from his home one Sunday morning to go to his Church to officiate there, for he was the parson of Llan Festiniog, he observed that the Bettws-y-Coed ladies were approaching his house, and he perceived that their object was to witch him. He knew full well that as long as his back was turned towards them he was in their power, but that when he faced them they could do him no harm; so; to avoid their evil influence, and to frustrate their designs, he faced them, and walked backwards every step from Cynvael to the Llan, and in this way he escaped being injured by his female enemies. But this was not all. Huw Llwyd knew that when he reached the Church porch he was beyond witchcraft's reach. Having arrived there he shouted out—"I defy you now, and before I leave the Church I will make you that you can never again witch anyone." He was as good as his word, for by his skill in the black art, he deprived those two ladies, ere he left the Church, of their power to witch people, and during the rest of their lives they were like other women.

Huw Llwyd, who was born 1533, and died 1620, was a clergyman, and it was generally believed that priests could counteract the evils of the enemy of mankind.

The wide-spread belief of witches being able to transform themselves into animals is shown in the legends of many countries, and, as in the case of fairy stories, the same tale, slightly changed, may be heard in various places. The possibility of injuring or marking the witch in her assumed form so deeply that the bruise remained a mark on her in her natural form was a common belief. A tale in certain points like the one recorded of Huw Llwyd and the witches who turned themselves into cats is to be heard in many parts of Wales. It is as follows. I quote the main facts from my friend Mr. Hamer's account of Llanidloes, published in the Montgomeryshire Collections, vol. x., p. 243:—



A Witch transformed into a Hare injured by one whom she tormented.

"An old woman, thought to be a witch, was said by a neighbour to be in the habit of visiting her nightly in the shape of a hare, and that in consequence she was deprived of her rest. The witch came to her bed, as a hare, and crossed it, and the tormented one was determined to put an end to this persecution. For this purpose she procured a hammer, which she placed under her pillow when she retired to rest. That night the old witch, unaware of the reception awaiting her, paid her usual visit to her victim. But the instant she jumped on the bed she received a stunning blow on the head, and, it need not be added, disappeared. Next morning, a friend of the persecuted woman, who was in the secret of the whole case, on some pretext paid the old woman, the supposed witch, a visit, and she was greatly astonished to find her laid up, suffering from a frightful black eye, which her visitor believed to be the result of the blow dealt her with the hammer on the previous night."



A Witch shot when in the form of a Hare.

The following tale was told me by the Rev. R. Jones, Rector of Llanycil:—

An old woman was evicted from a small farm, which she and her family had held for many years. She was naturally greatly annoyed at such conduct on the part of the landlord, and of the person who supplanted her. However, she procured a small cottage close by her late home, and there she lived. But the interloper did not get on, for she was troubled by a hare that came nightly to her house. A labouring man, when going to his work early in the morning, time after time saw a hare going from the farm towards the cottage occupied by this old woman, and he determined to shoot this hare. He procured an old gun, and loaded it with pebbles instead of shot, and awaited the approach of the hare. It came as usual, the man fired, and the hare rolled over and over, screaming and making a terrible noise. He, however, did not heed this much, for hares, when shot, do scream, and so he went to secure the hare, but when he attempted to seize it, it changed into all shapes, and made horrible sounds, and the man was so terrified that he ran away, and he was very glad to get away from the scene of this shocking occurrence. In a few days afterwards the old woman who occupied the cottage was found dead, and it was noticed by the woman who laid her out that her arm and shoulder were riddled with pebbles. It was thought that she was a witch, and that she had troubled the people who had deprived her of her farm, and that she did so in the shape of a hare, and no one doubted that the injury inflicted on the old woman was anything more than the shot of the man, who supposed that he had killed a hare, when in reality he shot and killed the old woman. The farmer was never troubled after the death of the woman whom he had supplanted.

Many variants of this tale are still extant. The parish clerk of Llangadfan, a mountainous parish in Montgomeryshire, gave me one, which he located in Nant-yr-eira, but as it is in its main points much like the preceding, I will not relate it.



A Witch in the form of a Hare in a Churn.

In the Spectator, No. 117, are these words:—

"If the dairy-maid does not make her butter come so soon as she would have it, Moll White (a supposed witch) is at the bottom of the churn."

Until very lately I had thought that the milk only was considered bewitched if it could not be churned, and not that the witch herself was at the bottom of the churn. But I have been disabused of this false notion, for the Rector of Llanycil told me the following story, which was told him by his servant girl, who figures in the tale. When this girl was servant at Drws-y-nant, near Dolgelley, one day, the milk would not churn. They worked a long time at it to no purpose. The girl thought that she heard something knocking up and down in the churn, and splashing about. She told her master there was something in the churn, but he would not believe her; however, they removed the lid, and out jumped a large hare, and ran away through the open door, and this explained all difficulties, and proved that the milk was bewitched, and that the witch herself was in the churn in the shape of a hare.

This girl affirmed that she had seen the hare with her own eyes.

As the hare was thought to be a form assumed by witches it was impossible for ordinary beings to know whether they saw a hare, or a witch in the form of a hare, when the latter animal appeared and ran before them along the road, consequently the hare, as well as the witch, augured evil. An instance of this confusion of ideas was related to the writer lately by Mr. Richard Jones, Tyn-y-wern, Bryneglwys.



A Hare crossing the Road.

Mr. Jones said that when he was a lad, he and his mother went to Caerwys fair from the Vale of Clwyd, intending to sell a cow at the fair. They had not gone far on their way before a large hare crossed the road, hopping and halting and looking around. His mother was vexed at the sight, and she said—"We may as well go home, Dick, for no good will come of our journey since that old witch crosses our path." They went on, though, and reached Caerwys in safety, but they got no bid for the cow, although they stayed there all day long.



A Witch in the form of a Hare hunted by a Black Greyhound.

The writer has heard variants of the following tale in several parts of Wales:—

An old woman, credited to be a witch, lived on the confines of the hills in a small hut in south Carnarvonshire. Her grandson, a sharp intelligent lad, lived with her. Many gentlemen came to that part with greyhounds for the purpose of coursing, and the lad's services were always in requisition, for he never failed in starting a hare, and whenever he did so he was rewarded with a shilling. But it was noticed that the greyhounds never caught the hare which the lad started. The sport was always good, the race long and exciting, but the hare never failed to elude her pursuers. Scores of times this occurred, until at last the sportsmen consulted a wise man, who gave it as his opinion that this was no ordinary hare, but a witch, and, said he—"She can never be caught but by a black greyhound." A dog of this colour was sought for far and near, and at last found and bought. Away to the hills the coursers went, believing that now the hare was theirs. They called at the cottage for the lad to accompany them and start the prey. He was as ready as ever to lead them to their sport. The hare was soon started, and off the dog was slipped and started after it, and the hare bounded away as usual, but it is now seen that her pursuer is a match for her in swiftness, and, notwithstanding the twistings and windings, the dog was soon close behind the distressed hare.

The race became more and more exciting, for hound and hare exerted themselves to their very utmost, and the chase became hot, and still hotter. The spectators shout in their excitement—"Hei! ci du," ("Hi! black dog,") for it was seen that he was gaining on his victim. "Hei! Mam, gu," ("Hei! grandmother, dear,") shouted the lad, forgetting in his trouble that his grandmother was in the form of a hare. His was the only encouraging voice uttered on behalf of the poor hunted hare. His single voice was hardly heard amidst the shouts of the many. The pursuit was long and hard, dog and hare gave signs of distress, but shouts of encouragement buoyed up the strength of the dog. The chase was evidently coming to a close, and the hare was approaching the spot whence it started. One single heart was filled with dread and dismay at the failing strength of the hare, and from that heart came the words—"Hei! Mam gu" ("Hi! grandmother, dear.") All followed the chase, which was now nearing the old woman's cottage, the window of which was open. With a bound the hare jumped through the small casement into the cottage, but the black dog was close behind her, and just as she was disappearing through the window, he bit the hare and retained a piece of her skin in his mouth, but he could not follow the hare into the cottage, as the aperture was too small. The sportsmen lost no time in getting into the cottage, but, after much searching, they failed to discover puss. They, however, saw the old woman seated by the fire spinning. They also noticed that there was blood trickling from underneath her seat, and this they considered sufficient proof that it was the witch in the form of a hare that had been coursed and had been bitten by the dog just as she bounded into the cottage.

It was believed in England, as well as in Wales, that witches were often hunted in the shape of hares. Thus in the Spectator, No. 117, these words occur:—

"If a hare makes an unexpected escape from the hounds the huntsman curses Moll White (the witch)!" "Nay," (says Sir Roger,) "I have known the master of the pack, upon such an occasion, send one of his servants to see if Moll White had been out that morning."

In Yorkshire Legends and Traditions, p. 160, is a tale very much like the one which is given above. It is as follows:—

"There was a hare which baffled all the greyhounds that were slipped at her. They seemed to have no more chance with her than if they coursed the wind. There was, at the time, a noted witch residing near, and her advice was asked about this wonderful hare. She seemed to have little to say about it, however, only she thought they had better let it be, but, above all, they must take care how they slipped a black dog at it. Nevertheless, either from recklessness or from defiance, the party did go out coursing, soon after, with a black dog. The dog was slipped, and they perceived at once that puss was at a disadvantage. She made as soon as possible for a stone wall, and endeavoured to escape through a sheep-hole at the bottom. Just as she reached this hole the dog threw himself upon her and caught her in the haunch, but was unable to hold her. She got through and was seen no more. The sportsmen, either in bravado or from terror of the consequences, went straight to the house of the witch to inform her of what had happened. They found her in bed, hurt, she said, by a fall; but the wound looked very much as if it had been produced by the teeth of a dog, and it was on a part of the woman corresponding to that by which the hare had been seized by the black hound before their eyes."



Early reference to Witches turning themselves into Hares.

The prevalence of the belief that witches could transform themselves into hares is seen from a remark made by Giraldus Cambrensis in his topography of Ireland. He writes:—

"It has also been a frequent complaint, from old times, as well as in the present, that certain hags in Wales, as well as in Ireland and Scotland, changed themselves into the shape of hares, that, sucking teats under this counterfeit, they might stealthily rob other people's milk."

Giraldus Cambrensis, Bohn's Edition, p. 83.

This remark of the Archdeacon's gives a respectable antiquity to the metamorphosis of witches, for it was in 1185 that he visited Ireland, and he tells us that what he records had descended from "old times."

The transformation fables that have descended to us would seem to be fossils of a pagan faith once common to the Celtic and other cognate races. It was not thought that certain harmless animals only could become the temporary abode of human beings. Even a wolf could be human under an animal form. Thus Giraldus Cambrensis records that a priest was addressed in Ireland by a wolf, and induced to administer the consolations of his priestly office to his wife, who, also, under the shape of a she-wolf was apparently at the point of death, and to convince the priest that she was really a human being the he-wolf, her husband, tore off the skin of the she-wolf from the head down to the navel, folding it back, and she immediately presented the form of an old woman to the astonished priest. These people were changed into wolves through the curse of one Natalis, Saint and Abbot, who compelled them every seven years to put off the human form and depart from the dwellings of men as a punishment for their sins. (See Giraldus Cambrensis, Bohn's Edition, pp. 79-81.)



Ceridwen and Gwion (Gwiawn) Bach's Transformation.

But a striking instance of rapid transition from one form to another is given in the Mabinogion. The fable of Ceridwen's cauldron is as follows:—

"Ceridwen was the wife of Tegid Voel. They had a son named Morvran, and a daughter named Creirwy, and she was the most beautiful girl in the world, and they had another son named Avagddu, the ugliest man in the world. Ceridwen, seeing that he should not be received amongst gentlemen because of his ugliness, unless he should be possessed of some excellent knowledge or strength . . . . ordered a cauldron to be boiled of knowledge and inspiration for her son. The cauldron was to be boiled unceasingly for one year and a day until there should be in it three blessed drops of the spirit's grace.

"These three drops fell on the finger of Gwion Bach of Llanfair Caereinion in Powis, whom she ordered to attend to the cauldron. The drops were so hot that Gwion Bach put his finger to his mouth; no sooner done, than he came to know all things. Now he transformed himself into a hare, and ran away from the wrath of Ceridwen. She also transformed herself into a greyhound, and went after him to the side of a river. Gwion on this jumped into the river and transformed himself into a fish. She also transformed herself into an otter-bitch, and chased him under the water until he was fain to turn himself into a bird of the air; she, as a hawk, followed him, and gave him no rest in the sky. And just as she was about to swoop upon him, and he was in fear of death, he espied a heap of winnowed wheat on the floor of a barn, and he dropped among the wheat and buried himself into one of the grains. Then she transformed herself into a high-crested black hen, and went to the wheat and scratched it with her feet, and found him and swallowed him."

The tale of Ceridwen, whose fame was such that she can without exaggeration be styled the goddess of witches, resembles in part the chase of the witch-hare by the black dog, and probably her story gave rise to many tales of transformations.

I now come to another kind of transformation. It was believed by the aged in Wales that witches could not only turn themselves into hares, but that by incantation they could change other people into animals. My friend, the Rev. T. Lloyd Williams, Wrexham, lodged whilst he was at Ystrad Meurig School with a Mrs. Jones, Dolfawr, who was a firm believer in "Rhibo" or Rheibo, or witching, and this lady told my friend the following tales of Betty'r Bont, a celebrated witch in those parts.



A Man turned into a Hare.

One of the servant men at Dolfawr, some years before Mr. Williams lodged there, laughed at Betty'r Bont's supposed power. However, he lived to repent his folly. One night after he had gone to bed he found that he had been changed into a hare, and to his dismay and horror he saw a couple of greyhounds slipped upon him. He ran for bare life, and managed to elude his pursuers, and in a terrible plight and fright he ran to Dolfawr, and to his bed. This kind of transformation he ever afterwards was subjected to, until by spells he was released from the witch's power over him.



A Man changed into a Horse.

Mr. Williams writes of the same servant man who figures in the preceding tale:—"However, after that, she (Betty'r Bont) turned him into a grey mare, saddled him, and actually rode him herself; and when he woke in the morning, he was in a bath of perspiration, and positively declared that he had been galloping all night."

Singularly enough Giraldus Cambrensis mentions the same kind of transformation. His words are:—

"I myself, at the time I was in Italy, heard it said of some districts in those parts, that there the stable-women, who had learnt magical arts, were wont to give something to travellers in their cheese, which transformed them into beasts of burden, so that they carried all sorts of burdens, and after they had performed their tasks, resumed their own forms."—Bohn's Edition, p. 83.

From Brand's Popular Antiquities, p. 225, I find that a common name for nightmare was witch-riding, and the night-mare, he tells us, was "a spectre of the night, which seized men in their sleep and suddenly deprived them of speech and motion," and he quotes from Ray's Collection of Proverbs:—

"Go in God's name, so ride no witches."

I will now leave this subject with the remark that people separated by distance are often brought together by their superstitions, and probably, these beliefs imply a common origin of the people amongst whom these myths prevail.

The following tales show how baneful the belief in witchcraft was; but, nevertheless, there was some good even in such superstitions, for people were induced, through fear of being witched, to be charitable.



A Witch who turned a Blue Dye into a Red Dye.

An old hag went to a small farmhouse in Clocaenog parish, and found the farmer's wife occupied in dyeing wool blue. She begged for a little wool and blue dye. She was informed by Mrs. —- that she was really very sorry that she could not part with either, as she had only just barely enough for her own use. The hag departed, and the woman went on with her dyeing, but to her surprise, the wool came out of the pot dyed red instead of blue. She thought that possibly it was the dye that was to blame, and so she gave up for the night her employment, and the next day she went to Ruthin for a fresh supply of blue to finish her work, but again she failed to dye the wool blue, for red, and not blue, was the result of her dyeing. She, in surprise, told a neighbour of her unaccountable failure to dye her wool blue. This neighbour asked her if she had been visited by anyone, and she in answer told her that old so and so had been at her house begging. "Ah," was the response, "I see how it is you can never dye that wool blue, you have been witched, send the red wool and the part that you have not touched here to me, and I will finish the work for you." This was done, and the same colour was used by both women, but now it became blue, whilst with the other, it was red.

This tale was told me by a gentleman who does not wish his name to appear in print, as it would lead to the identification of the parties mentioned, and the descendants of the supposed witch, being respectable farmers, would rather that the tale of their canny grandmother were forgotten, but my informant vouches for the truth of the tale.



A Pig Witched.

A woman sold a pig at Beaumaris to a man called Dick y Green; she could not that day sell any more, but the following market day she went again to Beaumaris. Dick was there waiting her appearance, and he told her that the pig he bought was bewitched and she must come with him to undo the curse. Away the woman went with Dick, and when they came to the pig she said, "What am I to do now, Dick?" "Draw thy hand seven times down his back," said Dick, "and say every time, 'Rhad Duw arnat ti,'" i.e., "The blessing of God be on thee." The woman did so, and then Dick went for physic for the pig, which recovered.



Milk that would not churn, and the steps taken to counteract the malice of the Witch that had cursed the churn and its contents.

Before beginning this tale, it should be said that some witches were able to make void the curses of other witches. Bella of Denbigh, who lived in the early part of the present century, was one of these, and her renown extended over many counties.

I may further add that my informant is the Rev. R. Jones, whom I have often mentioned, who is a native of Llanfrothen, the scene of the occurrences I am about to relate, and that he was at one time curate of Denbigh, so that he would be conversant with the story by hearsay, both as to its evil effects and its remedy.

About the year 1815 an old woman, supposed to be a witch, lived at Ffridd Ucha, Llanfrothen, and she got her living by begging. One day she called at Ty mawr, in the same parish, requesting a charity of milk; but she was refused. The next time they churned, the milk would not turn to butter, they continued their labours for many hours, but at last they were compelled to desist in consequence of the unpleasant odour which proceeded from the churn. The milk was thrown away, and the farmer, John Griffiths, divining that the milk had been witched by the woman who had been begging at their house, went to consult a conjuror, who lived near Pwllheli. This man told him that he was to put a red hot crowbar into the milk the next time they churned. This was done, and the milk was successfully churned. For several weeks the crowbar served as an antidote, but at last it failed, and again the milk could not be churned, and the unpleasant smell made it again impossible for anyone to stand near the churn. Griffiths, as before, consulted the Pwllheli conjuror, who gave him a charm to place underneath the churn, stating, when he did so, that if it failed, he could render no further assistance. The charm did not act, and a gentleman whom he next consulted advised him to go to Bell, or Bella, the Denbigh witch. Griffiths did so, and to his great surprise he found that Bell could describe the position of his house, and she knew the names of his fields. Her instructions were—Gather all the cattle to Gors Goch field, a meadow in front of the house, and then she said that the farmer and a friend were to go to a certain holly tree, and stand out of sight underneath this tree, which to this day stands in the hedge that surrounds the meadow mentioned by Bell. This was to be done by night, and the farmer was told that he should then see the person who had injured him. The instructions were literally carried out. When the cows came to the field they herded together in a frightened manner, and commenced bellowing fearfully. In a very short time, who should enter the field but the suspected woman in evident bodily pain, and Griffiths and his friend heard her uttering some words unintelligible to them, and having done so, she disappeared, and the cattle became quiet, and ever after they had no difficulty in churning the milk of those cows.