Page images
PDF
EPUB

writing, all their intellectual pleasures depend upon converse with their fellows, and thus their thoughts and wishes are intensely and continuously directed to the acquisition of the means of doing so.

A mile further up the valley was a small gentleman's house with about a hundred and fifty acres of land attached, owned and occupied by a Mr. Worthington, his wife and wife's sister. They had, I believe, come there not long before from Devonshire, and being refined and educated people, we were glad to make their acquaintance, and soon became very friendly. Mr. Worthington was a tall and rather handsome man between fifty and sixty; while his wife was perhaps fifteen or twenty years younger, rather under middle size and very quiet and agreeable; while her sister was younger, smaller, and more lively. They lent us books and magazines, and we often went there to spend the evening. I do not think our friend knew much about farming, but he had a kind of working bailiff and two or three labourers to cultivate the land, which, however, was mostly pasture. The place is called Gelli-duchlithe, the meaning of which is obscure. "The grove and the wet moor" is not inappropriate, and seems more likely than any connection with "llaeth" (milk), which implies good land or rich pastures, which were decidedly absent.

Mr. Worthington was an eccentric but interesting man. He played the violin beautifully, and when in the humour would walk about the long sitting-room playing and talking at intervals. He discussed all kinds of subjects, mostly personal, and he was, I think, the most openly egotistical man I ever met, and I have met many. After playing a piece that was one of his favourites, he would say to my brother, "Was not that fine, Mr. Wallace? There are not many amateurs could play in that style, are there?—or professionals either," he would sometimes add. And after telling some anecdote in which he was the principal personage, he would often finish up with, "Don't I deserve praise for that, Mr. Wallace?" On one occasion, I remember, after telling us of how he befriended a poor girl and resisted temptation, he concluded with, "Was

not that a noble act, Mr. Wallace?" to which we, as visitors, were, of course, bound to assent with as much appearance of conviction as we could manage to express. These things were a little trying, but he carried them off so well, so evidently believed them himself, and spoke in so earnest and dignified a manner, that had we been more intimate, and could have permitted ourselves to laugh openly at his more extravagant outbursts, we should have had a more thorough enjoyment of his society.

Of course, such an appreciation of his own merits led to his taking the blackest view of all who opposed him, and thus led to what was in the nature of a tragedy for his wife as well as for himself, and one in which we had to bear our part. His property was bounded on one side by the little river Dulais, which wound about in a narrow belt of level pasture, and in places appeared to have changed its course, leaving dry channels, which were occasionally filled during floods. It was to one of these further channels that our friend claimed that his property extended, founding his belief on the evidence of some old people who remembered the river flowing in this channel, some of whom also declared that the cattle and sheep belonging to Gelli used to graze there. He would talk for hours about it, maintaining that the old water-line was always the boundary, and that the adjoining landlord, Lord was trying to rob him by the power of his wealth and influence. The whole of the little pieces of land in dispute did not amount to more than half an acre and were not worth more than a few pounds, and his own lawyer tried to persuade him that the issue was very doubtful, and that even if he won, the bits of land were not worth either the cost or the worry. But nothing would stop him, and by his orders an act of trespass was committed on the land to which he thus formally laid claim, and after much correspondence an action was commenced against him by Lord's lawyers. Then we were employed to make a plan of the pieces claimed, and the case came on for trial at the Cardiff Assizes.

The partner of the London solicitor came down for the case and engaged one of the most popular barristers, the best

having been secured by the other side. Our friend was persuaded not to be present, and I was engaged to attend and take full notes of the proceedings, which I copied out in the evening and sent off to him. I stayed at a hotel with the lawyer, and the town being very crowded, we shared the same bedroom and had our meals together. He was by no means sanguine of success, and the first day's proceedings made him less so, as the other side stated that they had documents that proved their case, and intimated that the defendant knew it. The first day was Friday or Saturday, and we returned to Gelli till the Monday, and in the interval there occurred a scene. The lawyer felt confident that his client had not produced all the deeds he possessed relating to the estate, and insisted on being shown every single document or he would give up the case. Very reluctantly they were produced, and after a close examination one was found which had a map of the farm showing the boundary as claimed by the other side. The lawyer was a little man and lame, while Mr. Worthington was tall, erect, and defiant; but the former stood up, and, holding the document in his hand, blazed out against his client. "Mr. Worthington," he said, "you have behaved scandalously, foolishly, almost like a madman. You have deceived your own lawyer, and put him in the wrong. You have denied the possession of documents which you knew were dead against your claim. Had we known of the existence of this deed we would never have defended your case, and if I were acting for myself alone I would throw it up instantly. But Mr., my partner, is an old friend of yourself and your family, and to save you from open disgrace the case must go on to the end. But I tell you now, you will lose it, and you deserve to lose it, for you have not acted honourably or even honestly."

All this was said with the greatest fire and energy, and Mr. Worthington was, for the first time in my experience, completely cowed. He vainly tried to interpose a word, to disclaim knowledge of the importance of this deed, etc., but the lawyer shook his fist at him, and thoroughly silenced him. Finally, he told him that he should now act without consulting him,

and if Mr. Worthington interfered in any way he would throw up the case.

It turned out as the lawyer expected. The other side had deeds showing the same boundary as that which Mr. Worthington had concealed. Our evidence as to possession was weak. Our counsel appealed to the jury for a poor man struggling for his rights against the power of wealth. But the judge summed up against us on the evidence, and the other side won. Mr. Worthington had insisted upon hearing his counsel's speech, which evidently gave him hopes, and when the verdict was given he was overwhelmed, looked altogether dazed, and I thought he would have a fit. But we got him at once out of court, went back to the inn, and as soon as possible drove home together. As soon as he recovered himself somewhat, he exclaimed, "My counsel was a noble fellow, he upheld the right; but we had an unjust judge, Mr. Wallace." I forgot to mention that Mr. Worthington wore a brown curly wig, which I had at first taken for his natural hair, and when he was much excited he would suddenly snatch it off his head, when he looked rather ludicrous. The costs which he had to pay were very heavy, and he had to sell Gelli to pay them, and soon afterwards left the district to return to Devonshire. I fancy he had before lost a good deal of property, and this last misfortune was almost ruin. After they left I do not think we ever heard of them again, though my brother may have done so.

After living about a year at Bryn-coch we moved a little nearer the town to the other side of the Clydach river, and lodged with an old colliery surveyor, Samuel Osgood, in the employment of Mr. Price, of the Neath Abbey Iron Works. The house was an old but roomy cottage, and we had a large bedroom and a room downstairs for an office and living room, while Mr. Osgood had another, and there was also a roomy kitchen. A tramway from some collieries to the works ran in front of the house at a little distance, and we had a good view of the town and up the vale of Neath. Behind us rose the Drymau Mountain, nearly seven hundred feet above us, the

level top of which was frequented by peewits, and whose steep slopes were covered with trees and bushes. Here we lived till I left Neath a year later, and were on the whole very comfortable, though our first experience was a rather trying one. The bedroom we occupied had been unused for years, and though it had been cleaned for our use we found that every part of it, bedstead, floor, and walls, in every crack and cranny, harboured the Cimex lectularius, or bedbug, which attacked us by hundreds, and altogether banished sleep. This required prompt and thorough measures, and my brother at once took them. I was sent to the town for some ounces of corrosive sublimate; the old wooden bedstead was taken to pieces, and, with the chairs, tables, drawers, etc., taken outside. The poison was dissolved in a large pailful of water, and with this solution by means of a whitewasher's brush the whole of the floor was thoroughly soaked, so that the poison might penetrate every crevice, while the walls and ceiling were also washed over. The bedstead and furniture were all treated in the same way, and everything put back in its place by the evening. We did all the work ourselves, with the assistance of Mrs. Osgood and a servant girl, and so effectual was the treatment that for nearly a year that we lived there we were wholly unmolested by insect enemies.

Mr. and Mrs. Osgood were both natives of the ancient town of Bideford, Devon, which they continually referred to as the standard of both manners and morality, to the great disadvantage of the Welsh. They were both old, perhaps between sixty and seventy, and thought old fashions were the best. Mr. Osgood was an old-fashioned surveyor, and was also a pretty good mechanic. He prided himself upon his work, upon his plans of the colliery workings, and especially upon his drawings, which were all copies from prints, usually very common ones, but which he looked upon as works of high art. Among these, he was especially proud of a horse, in copying which in pen and ink he had so exaggerated the muscular development that it looked as if the skin had been taken off to exhibit the separate muscles for anatomical teaching. It was a powerful-looking horse in the attitude of a

« EelmineJätka »