He remained three days at Hungerford before he was sufficiently recovered to pursue his journey; at the end of which time, being still at a loss for a horse, on enquiring for an animal of a humble description, he was directed to an old pedlar, who had failed to dispose of a wretched thing of his at the fair. On going with him down a green lane where he had left it grazing, he was not a little surprized to find the creature offered to him for sale to be no other than his own mountain pony, left in exchange with the highwayman, having on its back the identical pack-saddle, in which he had formerly concealed his money. Too depressed in spirits to enter into any detail on the subject, having merely learnt that the pedlar had taken it in exchange for goods from a traveller, Twm purchased both pony and pack-saddle for the small sum of twelve shillings, and immediately set off on his journey. Alive to the importance of the trust reposed in him, and the danger he ran of being robbed, these considerations had the effect of dissipating his melancholy, and setting him somewhat on his mettle. Well for him it was, that he could so rouse his dormant energies, for by the time that he was within ten miles of Reading, in Berkshire, anxiously hoping to reach it without disaster, the sudden discharge of a pistol, close to his ear, convinced him he was in the centre of danger. Instantly a horseman well mounted rode fiercely down a lane that entered the road, and ordered him to stop and deliver in one minute, or have his brains scattered on the hedge beside him. Our hero’s presence of mind never forsook him, and now stood his friend in an especial manner. Assuming an air of clownish simplicity, he replied, “Laud bless ye master, I ha gotten nothing to deliver, but an old testament, a crooked sixpence, and a broken fish-hook, and—and—” “And what, you prevaricating young scoundrel!” roared the highwayman, “why this purse,” continued Twm, “which uncle Timothy gave I to market for him and pay his bills at Reading to-morrow;” producing at the same time, an old stocking, which he had stuffed with old nails and cockle-shells, in order to make a jingle. The robber made a grasp at the supposed well-stocked purse, which Twm dexterously evaded, and flung the purse over the hedge into the adjoining field, and riding on, while the former instantly alighted, blustering out a fund of oaths and bullying threats, as he made his way to the field to search for the coveted treasure.