We conclude our serialisation of the memories of Merthyr in the 1830’s by an un-named correspondent to the Merthyr Express, courtesy of Michael Donovan.

To some it is probable that to say much of Dowlais and leave the name of Mr Wm. Menelaus not prominently mentioned is like enacting the play “Hamlet” and leave out Hamlet himself. To such it is fair to say my knowledge of the place is antecedent to meeting with that gentleman prior to his going there. That he did much to keep up the prestige of the place is truthfully admitted. That he did not accomplish all his desires is also a fact; his intention and actual conversion of some portion of the works to another branch of manufacture can be doubtless recalled by many. Let me bear my humble tribute to his memory. Wishing Dowlais well, I will now part with it, and hope its future will be prosperous.
Instead of returning to Merthyr by the road, let us take a pleasanter way, and, mounting some steps by the roadside at Gellifaelog, cross by the footpath over a field or two, and then take the lane (or maybe paved road) back, passing by Gwaunfarren across the limestone tramroad there (there was also a limekiln close by), and we are close to the Penydarren Park again.
Before making my congé, let me recall some things that are now gone, most probably gone forever. One is the ‘Merched y Wern’ from Neath; they were well known, Their vocation in life some 60 or 70 years ago was to go to Swansea Pottery, and, getting a large crate or basket, in reality of ware, return to Neath upon the next morning loaded with the ware, walk to Merthyr to dispose of it. They were necessarily hardy and masculine. During their walks shoes or boots, as well as stockings, were taken off, only to be put on when entering a populous place. They were generally reputed to be well able to protect themselves. Generally there were two, three or four together, and evil betide any who raised their wrath. There is a tale of a man having said something being induced to accompany them for awhile, when at a suitable place he was denuded of clothing and bound a la Mazeppa – not to a horse but to a tree. Cwm-ynys Minton, not far from the Gelly Tarw junction, is the locus in quo of the episode.
Another class that has passed away are the old butter carriers, who, with their cart and horse, took weekly journeys from various parts of Carmarthenshire. They travelled 36 or even 48 hours at a stretch. Occasionally two or three would be in company; at night, some were thus able to sleep in their carts.
Then again there were the sand girls who earned a livelihood by gathering the stones from the river, calcining them and by ‘pounding’ reduce them to sand for use for domestic purposes. There are some stones far more suitable than others for this purpose – those of the silicious kind being more in request. However clear of them the river might be occasionally, a heavy flood brought down another stock, and so it went on. I am not aware if any such an employment now exists, but formerly the river from Caepantywyll to the bottom of Caedraw was the hunting ground of the sand girls.

The produce of the works, too, has undergone a strange metamorphosis. Not only are there no iron bars now made for tin works, but split rods have ceased to be so, and, while formerly large cargoes of ‘cable iron’ went to the Grecian Archipelago and other places in the Mediterranean, in vain should I look in all of South Wales for a bar bent to the shape of the camel’s back for conveyance across the desert. Advisedly, I say thousands of tons have gone from Merthyr for such a mode of conveyance.
‘Cable’ iron was also made, but if made now cannot be made from similar materials to what it used to be. I do not know of any South Wales works making cold blast all mine iron, but, if there is such it certainly not contiguous to Merthyr, where it was at one time made. Do not, however, suppose I consider Merthyr drawing to the close of its career:
“For I doubt not through the ages an increasing purpose runs,
And the thoughts of men are widened by the process of the suns”
Here for the present do I close but if “The sunset of life gives me mystified life” and coming events cast their shadows before my brain, I may endeavour to say a few words respecting “What of the future?”