Before methodism spread its puritanic gloom over Wales, and identified itself almost with the Welsh character, mirth and minstrelsy, dance and song, emulative games and rural pastimes, were the order of the day; and, as the country people worked hard all the week, it must be confessed that these sports often infringed upon the sanctity of the sabbath. Sundays were often entirely spent in dancing, wrestling, and kicking the foot-ball. The latter violent exercise, at this time prevalent in Cardiganshire, was performed in large parties of village against village, and parish against parish, when the country brought together its mass of population either to partake in the glories of the game, or to enjoy the success of their friends, as spectators. On these occasions Carmarthen Jack loved to be present, but only as a spectator, as he was never known to take a part in any game. While others were panting with the rough exercise, swearing at disappointments, hallooing their triumph, or wincing over a broken shin, Jack would be found seated on some rising tump that overlooked the field, busily employed with a scooping knife, hollowing out the bowls of spoons and ladles, or shaping out soles for wooden shoes, which at every moment that he could call his own, he manufactured out of the logs of birch, or more frequently alder, with which he amply provided himself during the week, and stored under his bed to dry. At fairs also, Carmarthen Jack would be equally punctual, and after having done his master’s business of buying or selling a horse or so, would be seen with a load of the merchandize of his own manufacture, wooden spoons, ladles, and clog soles, in abundance, which drew about him all the rural housekeepers far and near. “No milliner could suit her customers with gloves” in greater variety than Jack with spoons to please his purchasers. He had spoons for man, woman, and child, fashioned for every sort of mouth, from the tiny infant’s to the shark-jaws of the hungry ploughman, which, like his own, presented a gap from ear to ear. He had spoons for use, and spoons for ornament, the latter, meant to keep company with the showy polished pewter, were made of box or yew, highly polished and curiously carved with divers characters, principally suns, moons, stars, hearts transfixt with the dart of cupid, and sometimes a hen and chickens, which hieroglyphics of his own for fear of their being mistaken for a cat and mice, with other such misconstructions, Jack always explained at the time of bargaining, without any extra charge. Nothing could more emphatically prove the excellency of Jack’s wares, than the circumstance of his being personally unpopular among the women, and yet his wares in the highest esteem. The frowns of the fair, which threw a gloom on the sunshine of his days, may be traced to a source not at all dishonorable to him. The girls at the squire’s had played him so many tricks, that once, in the height of aggravation, Jack declared war against the whole sex, devoting to the infernal gods every creature that wore a petticoat, and vowing, from that day forward, that not one of the proscribed race should ever enter his room, which was romantically situated over the stable, with its glassless window commanding a full view of both the pigsty and dunghill. The consequence of this terrific vow caused him, at first, some trouble, as, to keep it he was obliged thenceforward to be his own chambermaid, lawndress, and sempstress, offices that accorded ill with his previous habits. The laudable firmness of his nature, however, soon overcame these petty difficulties; and so far was he from backsliding from his previous determination, that he vowed to throw through the window the first woman who entered his chamber, which the satirical hussies called his den—a threat which effectually secured him from further intrusion. Sometimes, indeed, when he would be sitting at the door of the cowhouse, or the stable, listening to the rural sounds of cackling geese and grunting pigs, while darning his hose or patching his leather breeches, or treading his shirt in the brook by way of washing it, these eternal plagues of his, the girls, would be seen and heard behind the covert of a wall or hedge, smothering their tittering, which at last would burst out, in spite of suppression, into a loud horse laugh, when one and all, they would take to their heels, while Jack amused himself by valiantly pelting their rear, in their precipitate retreat, with clods of earth, small stones, or anything that came in his way. Jack o Sîr Gâr, however, in time gained the reputation of being rich, by the success of his wooden-ware merchandize, and consequently one of the fair ones who had once been his tormentor, became suddenly enamoured of him, and incessantly endeavoured to gain his good will; but being one day thrown headlong out of the window into the dunghill below, as a gentle hint that she was not wanted, her milk of tenderness was turned into gall, and she became revengeful as a tigress. The first act of her resentment was to spread about the insidious report that Jack o Sîr Gâr was a woman-hater—an insinuation that at first rather preyed on his mind, as he dreaded the effect such an unmerited stigma would have upon his private trade. But innocence is ever predestined to an ultimate triumph; and an event soon happened that proved the falsehood of those prevalent tales to his discredit, and convinced his greatest foes that he possessed a heart, if not overflowing with human charity, at least penetrable to the blandishments of beauty, and quick with sensibility to female merit.
On one auspicious market-day, Carmarthen Jack appeared in the street of Tregaron where the market is held, loaded with his usual merchandize, which he spread on the ground, and sat beside them; but not meeting with a ready sale, and disdaining even momentary idleness, began with earnestness to cut and scoop away at a piece of alder, gradually forming it into a huge ladle, to correspond with the largest size three-legged iron pot. On this eventful morning Catti had occasion to perambulate the fair, to purchase a new ladle, her cross-grained sister having broken the old one, by thumping with it on the back of an overgrown hog, whose foraging propensities led it to investigate the recesses of the school-room. The reputation of Jack’s ware, and the general supposition that he had saved money, soon reached the ears of our prudent schoolmistress; and the pardonable ambition of wishing to conquer the stern heart of one who despised her whole sex was supposed to be the secret object of her present walk; and evil tongues were not wanting, to insinuate that she broke the ladle herself, which was only cracked before, for an excuse to introduce herself to Jack o Sîr Gâr, by buying another. Be that as it may, she sought and found him in the fair, and fell in love with him and his ladle at the same instant. After an effort to conquer her native bashfulness, and to look as lovely as possible, she accosted him with such uncommon civility as utterly astounded the poor clownish misanthropic bachelor. She examined the ladle in his hand, and though not half finished, declared it the handsomest ever her eyes beheld, and paid for it without seeking the least abatement in the price. Jack gaped at her, with open mouth and staring eyes, and thought her a very interesting woman, though his first impression was, that she was mad, as he had asked double the real selling price, on purpose to abate one half, according to a custom immemorial in Welsh dealings. She next purchased half a dozen common birch-wood spoons, and as many ornamental ones made of box, to adorn her shelf, and, as before, paid him his own price. Jack thought her very lovely, and when she made another purchase of a pair of clog soles, quite irresistible!—her ready money opened his heart like the best manufactured key, and he was almost ready to offer them as a present, but for a fear of wounding her delicacy. As she found he had no further variety, she ordered half a dozen more common spoons, and Jack, with all the amiability that he could possibly throw into his hard features, presented her with one of his most finished articles of box. She received it with that peculiar smile with which a lady accepts a welcome love-token, and replied in the softest tone imaginable, “indeed I will keep it for your sake John bach!”—Jack had nothing to do but wonder—he never had been called John in his life before; at any other time he would have thought she mocked him—and the endearing term of “bach” too, was equally new to his ears, which seemed to grow longer as they tingled with the grateful sound. This interesting scene was closed by Catti’s asking him to her house to partake of a dinner of flummery and milk, which he accepted with the best grace imaginable, and trudged off with his wares on his back and dangling from his arms and button holes; and thus gallanting her in the most amatory style, he walked by