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Take them: employ them well, and reform as I have done, and perhaps in time you may become one big wig, like myself. Well: the man took the money, and laid it out to the best advantage, and became at last so highly respectable a character that they made him a constable. And now, my gentleman, we are close upon Tregaron."
IT was about eleven o'clock in the morning when I started from Tregaron; the sky was still cloudy and heavy. I took the road to Lampeter, distant about eight miles, intending, however, to go much farther ere I stopped for the night. The road lay nearly south- west.
According to the tradition of the country, he was the illegitimate son of Sir John Wynn of Gwedir, by one Catherine Jones of Tregaron, and was born at a place called Fynnon Lidiart, close by Tregaron, towards the conclusion of the sixteenth century. He was baptised by the name of Thomas Jones, but was generally called Tom Shone Catti, that is Tom Jones, son of Catti or Catherine.
The man on the road south to Tregaron told him that he looked and spoke like the Earl of Leicester. He reveals himself also without recourse to impartial men upon the road. The mere figure of the tall man inquiring for the birthplaces of poets and literally translating place names for their meaning, is very powerful in holding the attention. He does not conceal his opinions.
FARMER. You must. MYSELF. Then I must be going, for the night is coming down. Farewell! FARMER. Farvel, Saxon gentleman! IT was dusk by the time I had regained the high-road by the village of the Rhyd Fendigaid. As I was yet eight miles from Tregaron, the place where I intended to pass the night, I put on my best pace.
And now something with respect to the celebrated hero of Tregaron, Tom Shone Catti, concerning whom I picked up a good deal during my short stay there, and of whom I subsequently read something in printed books.
Various attempts were made to apprehend him, but all without success; he was never at home to people who particularly wanted him, or if at home he looked anything but the person they came in quest of. Once a strong and resolute man, a farmer, who conceived, and very justly, that Tom had abstracted a bullock from his stall, came to Tregaron well armed in order to seize him.
MYSELF. Oh, you could not make yourself a hat even if you had the skin. FARMER. Why not? Shot coney in Bunk Pen Banedd; made myself cap of his skin. So why not make hat of skin of broadtail, should I catch him in Teivi? MYSELF. How far is it to Tregaron? FARMER. -'Tis ten miles from here, and eight from the Rhyd Fendigaid. MYSELF. Must I go back to Rhyd Fendigaid to get to Tregaron?
Can do everything in small way, if necessary; build little bridge, if asked; Jack of all Trades live very comfortably." "And where do you live?" "Oh, not very far from Tregaron." "And what kind of place is Tregaron?" "Oh, very good place; not quite so big as London but very good place." "What is it famed for?" said I, "Oh, famed for very good ham; best ham at Tregaron in all Shire Cardigan."
I next passed through Nant Derven, and in about three-quarters of an hour after leaving Tregaron reached a place of old renown called Llan Ddewi Brefi. Llan Ddewi Brefi is a small village situated at the entrance of a gorge leading up to some lofty hills which rise to the east and belong to the same mountain range as those near Tregaron.
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