places, Tenby (and those who have not done so should speedily wipe away the reproach), may have heard or read in the “Archæologia Cambrensis” some of the graceful customs that prevailed in that place not so many years back. Early on the New Year’s morning, crowds of boys and girls visited each house, carrying with them a cup of water and a sprig of box, with which they besprinkled not only the inmates, but also the furniture of the rooms, accompanying the operation with the following singular rhyme:
Here we bring new water from the well so clear,
For to worship God with, this happy new year;
Sing levy dew, sing levy dew, the water and the wine,
With seven bright gold wires, and bugles that do shine;
Sing reign of fair maid with gold upon her toe,
Open you the west door, and turn the old year go;
Sing reign of fair maid, with gold upon her chin,
Open you the east door and let the new year in.
There is a discussion as to the meaning of the term “levy dew,” which looks like “levez Dieu,” but which Welsh scholars pronounce to be a corruption of “llef i Dduw”—a cry to God. At all events, it is a pretty song, and surely better worth preserving than the stereotyped coarseness of
A pocket full of money,
And a cellar full of beer.
The May-day festivals were kept up with the usual accompaniment of garlands and may-poles, which, when erected, were obliged to be jealously watched, lest the inhabitants of the adjoining village or parish should lay violent hands on it. The same practice was common in Glamorganshire on Easter Monday, when a gaily decorated birch tree was hoisted up and watched for four days and nights, lest it should be stolen. Great was the triumph of that village which not only succeeded in keeping its pole intact, but also in exhibiting by its side the stolen property of its neighbour. One characteristic of the May festivals, which was, and indeed still is, prevalent amongst the northern nations, appears to have become obsolete from a very early period, viz., the Beltin, or Belting-fires, identical with the Sun-fire of the Scotch, and the Beal-tane of the Irish. In both these countries the practice is in existence, though perhaps under a different name. But in Wales there is nothing of the sort which we can identify with them.
Social customs kept their footing longer than others, though, as civilisation was brought more into the heart of the country by intercourse with the “Sassenach,” they lost ground in a corresponding ratio. The wedding custom of “bidding” still exists in some isolated parishes. As many of my readers are doubtlessly aware, it consisted in the happy couple bidding the invited to attend at their wedding, and then and there to present them with a donation of money or kind according to their means, it being an understood thing that such offerings were to be returned when the next occasion offered. Indeed, I have seen it stated, that the legal obligation to refund such gifts was once recognised by the Court of Sessions held at Cardiff.
The whole tenor of this novel “bidding prayer” is of a most commercial description:
“We are encouraged by our friends to make a Bidding on Tuesday, the 23rd inst., when your most agreeable company will be humbly solicited by your humble servants,
“Thomas Jones,
“Mary Price.”
“N.B. The young woman’s father and mother, Thomas and Sarah Price, and her brothers and sisters, Benjamin, Watkin, Evan, Winifred and Sarah, desire that all gifts due of the above nature will be returned to the young woman on that day; and whatever donation you may be pleased to bestow on them will be warmly acknowledged and cheerfully repaid whenever called for on a similar occasion.”
Horse-weddings were formerly much in vogue, and, about ten years ago, the practice was carried on at Devynnock, in Breconshire, when the well-mounted bride was pursued by pretty nigh all the parish, in the vain attempt to steal her away, somewhat after the fashion of the Tartar tribes. Of course she was caught only by her own intended, to whom she yielded a willing captive, and it is to be hoped that man and wife lived a happy and peaceable life together. Did they not do so, the episode of the “cefyl pren” became an unpleasant feature in their married career. Perhaps the misdemeanour was of a class which, in high life, would have involved the calling in the aid of Sir Cresswell to solve the difficulty; or perhaps it was only a simple case of sævitia upon the part of the lady, who, in the attempt to prove that the grey mare was the better horse, had dared to lay hands on her lord. In either case, an effigy of the principal offender was paraded about to the accompaniment of cleavers, whistles, and other hideous noises, and finally halted at the house of the guilty parties, when it was pelted, ducked, or otherwise maltreated. Indeed, in gross cases, a sort of Lynch-law was inflicted on the persons of the unfortunates, who, however, frequently deemed it most prudent to abscond before the vox populi made itself heard.
Funerals are great occasions in Wales—even greater than weddings—because there is an excitement of grief which, I believe, is often the most acceptable form of excitement to the female population, of which the greater number of funeral-goers are composed.
No invitation is required, but the fact of being an acquaintance or neighbour is quite sufficient; consequently the burial of a popular character, especially if he be a person of mark in the dissenting ranks, is generally attended by an enormous crowd.
There is no “keening” as in the sister isle, but its place is taken by singing, in which the whole train lustily join. If the deceased is well off, there is the additional inducement of the funeral baked meats, which are dispensed previous to starting, in the shape of spiced-ale and a cake, made in a particular way, for the occasion.
While on the subject of deaths, I must mention a singular superstitious custom which lingered, not very long ago, in some of the secluded mountain-vales of Carmarthenshire.
When a person died, his friends sent for the sin-eater of the district, who, for the small sum of