Went to Llenyrch aged 15, having served before that for four years, after my mother's death, before reaching the age of eleven. Llenyrch was a wonderful home.
The salary - ten shillings a week - 50p today, for twenty years. Went from there for a while after getting married to live in Manod, but back again both of us this time to finish the twenty years. Healthy food, produced on the farm, which is siot, finely ground Oatmeal bread, with buttermilk on it, Brwas, Two milk pot - boil milk and pour it on a little buttermilk, Llymru, Porridge, Oats or Rice, White Sican, Cosyn Caws Cartref, Home-made honey, they kept bees, also made Medd - if you drank a lot of that, you would be sure to be drunk, but they used it as a drug there, and when they were heavily chilled, drink a cup, and go to bed and you would be sure to get better.
Margiad and Richard Evans lived there, spinster and batchelor . Excellent characters, a religious household, yet plenty of healthy humour - a rare thing today. There was Llenyrch Chapel, a branch of the Gellilydan Presbyterian Chapel. Not on land belonging to Llenyrch, but on the land of the next farm, which is Penbrynpwlldu. It was closed just before I went there. I heard a lot about it, from both of them, at nightfall in front of the peat fire, lit with the rush candle. I didn't see a match for a while after going there, because they would put two or three black peats to be released in the ash hole the night before, and then lift them to the big grate in the morning, add more peat on them, and there would be a fire very soon. Many rush candles were made, peeling the rush, but leaving one shell and putting them in hot grease in a large frying pan, before finally keeping them in a dedicated tray under the large chimney. There was Llenyrch Lake, where many would walk there to fish, and catch many fish, - some going on the boat. On the surface of the lake there were lilies, some white and others yellow. It was a beautiful sight, nature at its best.
We sat under the big chimney, and an old old oak beam formed the fireside shelf, with plenty of space there. There was a small crane above the peat fire, which held the porridge pot that boiled slowly throughout the afternoon, and everyone in turn, gave it a stir with the porridge stick intended for that work. By now over thirty-five years have passed. Margiad Evans went to a house called Ty'n Llan which is by Llandecwyn Church, a long journey where she attended a little school three times a week. This she had to pay for. The teacher had lost one arm and taught arithmatic , she said. Making sums, 'add up' and 'take away' she called it, and learning to read. When taught one day to count to ten. After ten the teacher said you must 'carry one'. "Well Sir" she said, "wouldn't it be better for me to 'carry two' in case 'one' is too small?" 'They used to buy a sack of sugar, a bag of rice, half a hundred weight of flour and a whole chest of tea in a distant place like Llenyrch, so the idea was a good one!
Richard Evans would be very strict with going to bed, using his two sticks for as long as I remember. When the big old clock struck nine, he would say, "Well Margiad, we'll go to our homes while we have it." Another time he said, "I will go again tonight to give our care to the Lord." After that , because of illness we did not always have the privilege or opportunity to have a good night's rest.
I remember well, about two stones, one large round, and the other smaller, one for a man, and one for a girl. They were stones of achievement. Strong men would walk from Tanygrisiau, and others from afar, to the border of Llenyrch and Cancoed Uchaf to try to lift the big stone. I heard Richard Evans say that an uncle of mine was successful in lifting it off the ground, namely the late Howel Parry. He was a servant in Llenyrch for many years. His home was Cae'r Gof, which is today under Llyn Trawsfynydd. There was talk of his strength.
My brother Gwynoro, Goronwy's twin, was also in Llenyrch for thirteen years. He died aged 38. I remember the first summer I went to Llenyrch - a hot summer, and large fields of hay wanted to be collected in bunches ready to be brought to the hay house. A row of us at it, with small rakes - no mention of the machines that work instead of men today. Three horses, a large open cart , and a drag car. A very entertaining time. One afternoon, the hay was not dry enough to carry for about two hours, so I said to Margiad Evans, I will go with a small tin to collect some blackberries. I walked and walked, but to no avail, getting none . I went back quite disappointed, and said to Margiad Evans, "What a poor show I got none. " And this is her witty answer. "Don't brambles grow well in the fields of the lazy, which was certainly not true of this farm where they were cutting grass at that time with scythes - to the bank, therefore, there was no place for brambles to grow to get blackberries.
I remember going to Plas Ffarm Llandecwyn, they were related to the Llenyrch family. Two spinsters and two batchelors . Richard, Edward, Mary and Gwen Roberts. I was accompanied by one of the Llenyrch family to go there one afternoon after tea. Edward asking us to go to the yard to see the calves. They were getting a scam. Keep the cream churning to get butter. They were quite tight. Edward asked the brother, "What do you think of these calves?" No answer. He asked the second time, "What do you think of these calves?" And the brother said, afraid of angering him, "Well, they'll make loas for years for you Edward." There wasn't much sight for them to grow. Margiad Evans would always tell the servants - give the pigs and calves a dry bed, plenty of straw or fern, better less in their stomach and a dry place to lie on. The old woman told me why, and she was of a fair age and had 'strokes' without being heavy and there was an old woman from the area, a small farm called Y Gegin, - it has been in ruins since years, bringing one of the leeches that would be in a ditch, a small creature similar to a sardine. There is an old saying, 'It sticks like gel'. Put that on the old woman's neck for her to suck the unhealthy bad blood and when she had filled her belly with it she would let go, and the old woman would be better temporarily, then the same medicine afterwards. I remember Richard Evans getting shingles on his back. Put a white canvas, its material - a flour bag, on the wall by the hay house to give a call to Mary Lewis, Caersaeson to come there.
She would soon come in her clogs through the Gorge. Then, me holding the rush candle for her to see, Richard Evans and his weight on the table, and lifting his flannel shirt and flannel waistcoat, then she would breathe on him three times, and spit twice, so for a long time until he would sweat without failing to count. Ha, ha, ha, T, T, and I'm frivolous enough. He did this for nine days at the same time every night at six o'clock, and after about nine days they began to cry and clear well. She was often called a long way. Some of her family have eaten eagle meat they say. I don't know, because she didn't have children, that medicine was finished. 'Ceunant Llenyrch was a very good place for sticks. Several would come to ask permission to cut some. Margiad Evans asked me one day, "Do you know when to break a stick?" "I don't know." I said, "If not in the spring." "No" she said. "When you see her, or someone else will have taken her!"
Margiad Evans would sing some old songs in the evening, some that we don't hear these days. Here is one of them:
Ar y ffordd wrth fynd i Lunden
Cyfarfyddais â theiliwr llawen,
A throis fy ngolwg tua’r nen
Ar ei lawes y gwelais luen.
Mi dynais fy mhistol allan,
Mi saethais hi yn ei thalcan,
Nes oedd ei thrwst hi’n dod i lawr
Fel ergyd fawr o ganan.
Bum wrthi dridiau cyfan
Yn ei blingo hi fy hunan,
Ac i ffair y Llunden yr es â hi,
Cei drigain gini amdani.
Roedd merched y wlad cyn falched
O weled y cig cyn frased,
A holi, a stilio ar hyd y wlad
Lle magwyd y fath anifeilied.
We will go to Capel Brontecwyn every Sunday after lunch. Getting told off by neighbours, walking in clogs and changing into shoes before arriving at the chapel. An hour and a half's work walking one way, and that was the happiest period of my life. Hard, poor work, lifting heavy weights for example - putting the yoke on my shoulders to carry the milk after the milking - in the cowshed in the winter and out in the summer. There were eighteen dairy cows, and when the men were busy, we would milk nine until singing.
Milking very often in a place called Fuches Dwll in Ceunant Geifr. A nice place, a stream as cold as the crystal, a narrow bridge to go over and a causeway of stones to cross to the other side. A high wall had been erected in the middle of the Herd, and a place to put the milk tins on it to prevent the dogs. A quiet place, the song of the birds, the bleating of the sheep and the brook singing. I better explain why Fuches Dll got another name, Ceunant Geifr. Well, Richard Evans told me that a herd of goats would come down from Cwm Moch, through the stream, and indeed I saw them myself too. Margiad Evans would call to me, Nel, come to the hay house in a minute, the goats are coming, and I'm going - a kind of fear of them, but they were passing in one neat and dignified line, not much attention of us.
Then they will go past Canycoeduchaf and down, and past Felinrhyd Fawr and to Gelli Grin, up to the rocks - it was chasing time, or courtship if you like, and there were wild goats there. Then back in an equally dignified course of time past Llenyrch and through Ceunant geifr to Cwm Moch, but after they built the Power House, and the sound of men working and the machines and the sound of the water, they retreated for years. We will go from Llenyrch with baskets of butter and eggs down the Gorge to Llenyrch Bridge and up to Gellilydan to a small shop called Llwynimpia.
The Llenyrch relationship. If the day was short, Margiad Evans would be uneasy about me because the Gorge was a very dangerous place after dark and this is how she would say, "I'm glad to hear the sound of your feet coming back, I hope the you will die with your head on a pillow. Well, a cup now to wait for the sweat to go, then a proper meal. You know," he said, "a long meal makes a big meal, and a big meal does a lot of damage to the stomach." The late Evan Roberts, Cae Iago would come to Llenyrch to buy fattened steers. Boil a pot full of potatoes every day in the cross house, the back kitchen and make it into dough like round balls, potatoes and flour and bran. The pigs would get them too and the chickens. Indian corn and the welcome for them would be great.
An interesting day was the day of the bargaining with Evan Roberts. When he arrived at the house, Margiad Evans said, (remember she hadn't been from Llenyrch for years so everything that was happening on the farm was of great interest to her, and seeing people calling). "Risiart, go with Evan Roberts to see the livestock while Nel and I make tea and pancakes." That would be the welcome at that time. The best round table, and a table cloth of white starched flour bag, also clap sugar. When they came back, Margiad would ask, one pinch of sugar to put in Evan Roberts' tea, which two?
If Richard Evans said, give one Margiad clap - a low price - but if he said, "give two" - a good price. Well talking about the respectability of the Sabbath, at the top of the stairs there was an old, old fashioned large press cupboard, and in it was a horse's horse and a large black 'chape' lined with red flannel and a high collar for it. These did not come out except on Sundays to go to Llenyrch Bridge to meet the preacher, who had come on his journey preaching in Gellilydan. Richard Evans would take the horse to the bridge, then put the preacher on the horse's back, and put the 'gape' over him so that he would not get cold, after walking and sweating. The gers back again to the old closet. But they came out in my memory too, when Margaid Evans died peacefully at the age of 87, and the last time, in seven months Richard Evans died at the age of 71. Their remains were buried in the Church Cemetery, Maentwrog. 'Losing Margiad Evans was like losing my second mother to me. Hardly a day goes by that I don't think about them, and still keep in touch with the Llenyrch family. Well, that's a few crumbs from the history of Llenyrch, Llandecwyn.
Peace to his dust.
The above was kindly received by Elwyn Williams, Blaenau Ffestiniog and we thank him very warmly for thinking that we would like to share the 'crumbs about the history of Llenyrch' with everyone who is interested.