The Ghost of Pentre. (Pentre farm is but a short distance to the north-west of the Parish Church).
At the beginning of the present century there was quartered at Pentre Farm house, then occupied by one David Treherne, an old pauper named Phillip Thomas. He was there in accordance with the custom of those days: there were no workhouses, and paupers were boarded out with the ratepayers of the different hamlets for periods, according to the amount at which they were assessed to the poor rate – three, six, or twelve months. Phillip Thomas resided at Pentre, and was, as far as is known, fairly comfortable, except for the fact that the maid, Catherine, part of whose duty it was to attend to the old man’s wants, was unkind, and even cruel to him.
The maid had a soul worthy of a Poor Law Board as painted by Dickens; for we find that the old man, even on his death bed, was the subject of her jeers and neglect. We are told that when he was dying, she refused him a drop of cold water, with the remark that she had no time to attend to the old d–l. The old man died, and was buried opposite the door of the old Village School, adjoining the Church known as “Ty Cynwyd.” Presently, we find that the old pauper’s ghost made its appearance again in this world! Misguided spirit! he might have known that for paupers of his class, there was no room in Llangynwyd; however, here he was, and distinguished himself as follows.
The little girl of the house was observed to throw the clothes which were drying into the fire, and, on being checked, excused herself by saying that Uncle Phillip gave them to her, and told her to do it; and, indeed we are told that the clothes were hung out of the child’s reach, and that it was impossible that she could herself have got at them. While the family were mystified at this event, in came the maid Catherine, pale and dripping, screaming that she had seen old Phillip by the stable, and that he had nearly drowned her by emptying a pail of water over her. Here was more matter for thought, and doubtless, the family of Pentre found it difficult to account for what they had seen and heard.
While they were thinking over such matters, they were again startled by hearing stones hurled with great force against the house from every direction. They, of course, huddled together in mortal dread, and when the time came to attend to the cattle and horses for the night, it was only in parties of two or three, with lanterns, that they ventured to do so. The night was spent in confusion, amid the screams of the maid Catherine, to whom the ghost was constantly in sight. This went on for some time, till the girl was wasted to a skeleton, and confined to her bed. The neighbours took it in turns to watcch her, for, even at night, the disembodied pauper persecuted her, and made some attempts to strangle her.
IN the general dismay, no better means for dispatching old Phillip from Pentre could be thought of than prayer meetings, and these were nightly held. It was an article of faith in those days that all clergymen had more than a smattering of the black art, and that part of their education was directed to attaining power over the devil and his imps. So Mr. Parry, the vicar, was invited to conduct one of the prayer meetings. so frightened was the good old man, that even while leading in prayer, he was constrained to pause and ask Catherine if she could see the ghost, for at no time was it visible to anyone else. “Yes, sir,” quoth Catherine, “he stands just behind you,” – upon which Mr Parry made himself scarce.
So matters went on: work was neglected in Pentre; at Llangynwyd, no one ventured out after dark; and the general dread was such that the bells did not ring during that winter. At last the Rev. Mr Jones, vicar of Glynogwr, was invited to try his hand on this obstinate ghost, and, fortunately, succeeded in persuading the disembodied pauper to return whence he came. The Trehernes were at peace, and Catherine, the maid, got well. She lived, it is said, to a great age, and died in the odour of sanctity at Aberdare.
So far the tragedy goes; but the poet William, of Aber, not being a believer in the ghostly powers of paupers, or others, turned the whole thing to ridicule, by introducing into this tragic story a strong element of comedy.
a long poem in Welsh with English translation follows: https://archive.org/details/historyllangynw00evangoog/page/n157/mode/1up?q=%22pentre+farm+house%22&view=theater
History of Llangynwyd Parish, by T.C. Evans (1887).