A TALE OF A WELSH VILLAGE
BY
ALLEN RAINE
AUTHOR OF MIFANWY, A WELSH SINGER
NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1898
COPYRIGHT, 1898,
BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I.—Mwntseison
II.—Hugh Morgan
III.—Mari "Vone"
IV.—Owen's "bidding"
V.—Traeth-y-daran
VI.—Changes
VII.—A wedding call
VIII.—Confidences
IX.—Gwen's rebellion
X.—Hugh's suspicions
XI.—The storm
XII.—Unrest
XIII.—Doubts and fears
XIV.—The mill
XV.—Torn sails
XVI.—Peace
XVII.—The mill in the moonlight
TORN SAILS.
"Caraf ei morfa, a'i mynyddedd,
A'i gwilain gwynion, a'i gwymp wreigèdd."
—Hab Owain.
"I love her golden shores, her mountains bare,
Her snow-white seagulls, and her maidens fair."
—Trans.
Between two rugged hills, which rose abruptlyfrom the clear, green waters of CardiganBay, the Gwendraeth, a noisy little river, foundits way from the moors above to the sands whichformed the entrance from the sea to the villageof Mwntseison.
In the narrow valley, or "cwm," throughwhich the fussy little streamlet ran, the wholevillage lay. It looked like nothing more than acluster of white shells left by the storm in achink of the rocks, the cottages being perchedin the most irregular confusion whereversufficient space could be found between the rockyknolls for a house and garden.
The stream running through the centre ofthe village was an object of interest andattraction to the whole community, being the commonrendezvous for all sorts of domestic operations.On its banks the household washing was carriedon, fires being lighted here and there, on whichthe water was boiled in large brass pans. Therewas much chattering and laughter, variedsometimes by hymn singing in chorus, so that"washing day" at Mwntseison was a holiday ratherthan a day of toil.
Here Nance Owen rinsed the laver-weeds[1]preparatory to boiling them down into thatquestionable delicacy known as "laver-bread."
Here the sheep from the moors above werewashed once a year with much calling andshouting and barking of dogs. The barefooted boysand girls paddled and sailed their boats in itsclear waters in the summer evenings; and here,when the storms of winter made the littleharbour unsafe, the fishing-boats were hauled uptogether; here,