With his mind full of pistols and highwaymen, he trudged on at a slow ruminating pace, till he reached a humble public house at Aberayron. This lowly tavern he found so full that he could scarcely get a seat. With the exception of two or three fishermen and other sea-farers, these were people who made a temporary halt on their way to Cardigan fair, low booth-keepers, fruit and gingerbread sellers, and such like. Twm called for beer and refreshment, and while eating, observed the habits of these strange people with much curiosity. He had contrived to squeeze himself into a window seat between two females who sat apart and civilly made room for him, and pressed his acceptance of the place. This act of good-breeding won upon him amazingly, and he could not help contrasting their politeness with the rude indifference of the rest of the party; nor was his opinion of them changed when one turned out to be a fortune-telling gypsy, and the other a ballad singer. He could not do less he thought than ask them both to partake of his cup, and they felt themselves bound in honor, in their great devotion to his health, to return it empty each time he handed it to them full. Such gallantry on one hand, and confidence and affability on the other, begot a sudden friendship between them; the gypsy insisting upon telling his fortune gratis, and the ballad singer on his acceptance of two or three favorite songs, while our hero, not to be behind-hand in disinterested kindness, insisted that they would continue to partake of his cup. While Twm was busily employed in looking over the bundle of ballads, among which he met many old friends, which he had frequently sung, one of the friendly nymphs was beckoned to, by a man at the opposite end of the kitchen, with whom she went out, and the gypsy soon followed them.