The Cardiff Times

'L- "C"' -TT UV R?)]7I>I?TA¥ h > iuQI Dim niliuii. RY W.'HARRISON*AINSWORTH, 'gUrrao; OF TKK TOWSR OF LOKDON," WIMIOA CASTLE," OLD SAINT PAUL'S," BOOCOBEL," &C., &C. \<XLV.—A WlXTEE IN THE SOCTH OF FEANCB RKOROSFIO FOR MILDSED.^ Tin occurrence on the Mere, in which Stanley played so ponspietvnii, a part, seemed to afford him extreme satisfaction—aud no wonder, since •everybody, even the men-servants, regarded him as a port; of hero. Krw, afterward^. Rose herself appeared on the lav. i«, r.tja»uled by Georgette, She had been pro- vi.-f, with one of Mildred's morning dresses, and Iouiv<L very well in it. After flanking Stanley most warmly for tho f?r. erviees he had rendered her, she said, I ca1. that you have saved my life." no reflection will always be gratifying to me," ::0 replied. [Tad he not reseued you I should never have felt happy again," said the Squire since I was the cause of the accident. And I can assure you, ray dear young; lady, I felt a sharper pang than I I have ever before experienced when you fell into •the water." "P'-ay think of it no more/'said Rose. "I what you meant to do." The day was so line that the majority of the party remained on the lawn for some time longer. M ildred was the first to retire, and she took with her sister Aline and Georgette. A hatter understanding than had previously ■subsisted between Mildred and Rose seemed to have sprung up between them, and when they .separated they kissed each other affectionately. I hope I shall see you to-morrow," said Mil- dred," if the day is fine. I shaH certainly come here but shall only admire the lake at a dis- tance. "My unexpected plunge has not at all alarmed nip," said Rose, and I should not object to .another row to-morrow." "Be prudent," said Stanley, "I may not al- ways be near to help you." I must speak to papa, and tell him he will be ■responsible for any future mishap," said Mildred. Rose laughed. Mildred, and those with her, now entered the house and proceeded to their own rooms while Rose and Stanley took possession of a bench, charmingly placed near a bed of roses. Here let us leave them for a. time, and visit .another bench on the opposite side of the lawn, where we shall find Lady Starkey in the full en- joyment of a tete-a-tete, with the Squire. I am thinking of returning to town almost immediately," she said. Indeed he exclaimed. I am very sorry to hear it. I hope it is not a sudden resolution." Not altogether sudden," she rejoined. But I begin to think I haw outstayed nIY welcome." Pray don't entertain any such notion," he replied. I intend to give a garden party or two, and a dinner almost immediately. I hope you will stay for them." I canot positively promise," she replied "but I won't leave before if I can help it. How things are changed she exclaimed, with a deep sigh. At one time I persuaded myself that I should remain here altogether. I fancied you wished me to become mistress of Beaucliffe." Somewhat embarassed,the Squire did not exactly know what sort of answer to make. I thought you had quite changed your mind," he said. You could not have entertained such a poor opinion of me," she rejoined. I was quite pre- pared to fulfil my engagement, and I expected yon to fulfil yours." Difficulties I had not foreseen arose," said the Squire—" insuperable difficulties." "And these still exist, I suppose?" said Lady Starkey. "Let us come to a clear understand- "I fear so," he replied. "Nothing, I need scarcely say, could be more gratifying to me than a union with a person of your ladyship's distinc- tion and accomplishments, but I am obliged to abandon the idea." Why so? demanded Lady Starkey. You have not been rejected by me." "But you have asumed such a hostile form to my daughter and her husband that I fear a perfect reconciliation between you is impossible and, without that, happiness could not be expected while living together in the same house, and constantly meeting. I have a suggestion to offer to your ladyship. Re- lease me from my promise, which cannot be satis- factorily carried out—but remain here, withas much authority as you have hitherto enjoyed, as lo1 g as you think proper." Well, I consent," she replied. I confess I am very comfortable here but if I should be- come tired of the place, I can run up to town at any time." "Exactly," replied the Squire, and return when you think proper. From the present state cf my dear child's health, I fear I may expect to lose her, and in that case there can be no obstacle ■—at least, on my part—to our union. Does this arrangement suit your ladyship ?" i Perfectly," she replied. Then let us take a walk round the lawn." She delightedly acceded to the proposal. Rose and Stanley still occupied the bench they had chosen. They looked graver than they did, for they were discussing the possibility of Lady Starkey's immediate return to town, in which case Rose would have to accompany her. I don't think my mother will consent to part with you," said Stanley. "Of late you have be- come quite necessary to her." I have tried to make myself useful," replied Rose. But I really am very fond of Mrs Brere- ton, and, no doubt, she perceives it. I don't be- lieve I shall ever be as happy again as I have been jat the old hall. I like it quite as well as Beau- cliffe-in some respects better." You are very kind to say so, but I should scarcely think that possible," he replied. For instance, we have nothing at Brereton like this loyely lawn, or the Mere. It is strange that Mildred never could reconcile herself to the old touse." Your mother says she took an early dislike to the place, and never tried to overcome it." I believe that's true. I should like to consult you about Mildred's health. My mother is seri- ously alarmed. What is your opinion?" "My opinion is that she ought not to pass another winter in this rigorous climate. She must pp to Nice, or some other place in the South of Vance," Will you and Sister Aline accompany her. ked Stanley, anxiously. I will go with lier if khe wishes it, replied Rose and I am quite sure Sister Aline is too devoted to her to leave her at such a critical juncture. I trust she may be restored to perfect Tiealth." j I trust she may," echoed Stanley. But I confess I am very doubtful. Still, the mild climate may work wonders. I am greatly obliged by your prompt compliance with my re- quest." Depend upon it, I will do all I can," said Rose earnestly. 1 pity her exceedingly, and I love her as much as I pity her. If I can do nothing else, I can help to make her latter days happy." That is exactly what I desire," said Stanley, W H.11 a grateful look. "With you and Sister Aline to tend her, I feel that nothing wiU be •■Wanting either in personal comfort or religious consolation. It is sad that she cannot pass her last hours in the house in which she was born, and where she has always lived, but I believe this to be her only chance." I am sure it is," said Rose. I do not think she ever had a day's illness •until she quitted her father's house and returned almost in a dying state," said Stanley. I "What a change exclaimed Rose. At one time I suspected poison-" Poison exclaimed Rose. "But I have since dismissed the injurious thought from my breast." You are right to do so," said Rose. One person only could have committed the » rrime, and I belie ve him to be utterly incapable of hit," I acquit him entirely," said Stanley. I attribute her sufferings entirely to remorse—the effect of which has been as terrible as that of poison itself." Rose made no reply, but her looks showed that she entertained the same opinion. It is from this conviction that I anticipate the difficulty of a perfect cure. It is a disease of the toitl rather than the body, and hitherto all her penitence has proved unavailing." I do not despair," said Rose. Tranquillity of mind may be restored. She has looked much -easier of late." Just then the Squire and Lady Stanley came up. You don't seem, from your looks, to be hoid- •.Uig a very lively conversation," said her ladyship. "We were "talking of dear Mildred." replied ilose. St anley agrees with me that she must past next winter in the South of France. r have promised to take charge of her, and we hope to prevail on Sister Aline to go with us." ".1 entirely approve of the plan," said the Squire. It gives me the greatest possible pain to see her, as it were, dying by inches, and I hope M*ou may be enabled to restore her to her former -eealtli. T don't suppose she will object to go, but you must not make quite certain." I Of course, the decision will be left entirely to iter," aid Stanley "but I do not anticipate any difficulty. On the contrary, I think sheWlll be greatly pleased by the proposition." There is only one thing against it," said the Squire. She told me she would never leave this tiouse again." When she knows we wish to restore her to ^calch, she may think differently," said Rose, j. As I fully belie ve her life depends on the change, strenuously." If your opinion is confirmed, not a word can De^aid," rejoined the Squire. I have always heard that the shores of the ■Mediterranean offer a charming climate for in- VaJUs, said Lady StarSrey, and I therefore ,1mt support my niece's opinion." Do you feel inclined to go to Nice for the win- er, aunt ?" asked Hose. Lady Starkey looked at the Squire. ► I should prefer Cannes or Mentone, from what j hear of them," he said. But I don't think I K«a *eave Beaucliffe, unless Mildred wishes to ^•ye me with her. You must stop and take care ,I,hou8e for me," he added to Lady Starkey. t That I will, with pleasure, she rejoined. 0, Well, if this arrangement should be carried I u,s hope it may be satisfactory to evc-ry- Jj^y, and above all, beneficial to Mildred," said ^■anley. Here comes Lady Talmash. Perhaps »iay go with us. Your ladyship has come ost Qprojyos. Are you inclined to spend the mter at Nice ? Because I intend to take Mildred *rei and give her the advantage of the climate, d shall be delighted if you will join the party." should really like it very much, and think arH would be serviceable to myself. If you « Mildred desire it, I will go with you." to f-k am very fdad to hear it, and shall hold you <- he engagement," said Stanley. "I need tell you we shall live very quietly, and j 0i ,?'ll excitement, but yon can do just as yon dine at the table d'hote, go to balls, concerts, ^lace^^eS' and mix in all the dissipations of the "Por;siblý I may. I shall not lay down any 11p- but no what seems aerreeable at the t I' time. On one thing you may rely, I shall not ex- pect you constantly to attend on me." I Had you intimated any such wish, I should have, been obliged to excuse myself. Mildred will require all my care, and I mean to devote myself to her." I entirely approve of your resolution, and I think it does you great credit. Under such cir- cumstances as these, I shall be enchanted to form one of the party. Lady Starkey, I suppose, is not going with you." "No. Her ladyship prefers staying at Beau- cliffe, and will take care of the Squire." "Everything seems to be capitally arranged. I hope we shall be able to carry it out." <> While thus conversing, they had gradually ap- proached the house, and now entered the drawing room through the open window. CHAPTER LXV.—Ma WARBURTON FOEKALLY ANNOUNCES HIS INTENDED MARRIAGE WITH LADY STARKEY. Next day, Mr Warburton and Lady Starkey had a loug tete-a-tete in the library, the result of which was a formal announcement on the part of the Squire that the engagement he had entered into with her ladyship would be speedily carried out. This announcement did not occasion much sur- prise, since tho probability of the marriage had been discussed by everybody, but it seemed to give general satisfaction, for her ladyship was much liked, and Mrs Twemlow, the housekeeper, Gios- sop, Ik>mi.nique and the two footman, tnougnt she would make a very good mistress.. Before coming-' to a decision, the ^Squire iiaa argued the matter with himself pretty much m this wav. I don't think I can do better than marrj hei ladyship, who will do me credit in every respect. She is » most lady-like, charming woman, and will make Beaucliffe what it used to be m former days—a most ^.tractive and agreeable house. 1 feel I am quite safe with her. That unfortunate elopement has done us great mischief. 1 cannot explain it to everybody, and the only way to set it is to place an unmistakable lady at the head of the establishment. We shall all stand better when that is done. Besides, she has a clear three thousand a year, and that is not to be despised. On the whole, 1 think I ought to consider mr- self lucky; and I am chiefly fortunate in having gained a lady, who will sit so well at the head of my table. I fancy I see her there aiow. I am very glad poor dear Mildred is going to Nice, as it will prevent any possibility of mis- understanding between her and the new mistress of the house, and I daresay the party can be in- duced to set out for the south of France some two or three months earlier." These reflections were interrupted by the en- trance of the lady herself into the library, and no sooner did she appear than the gallant Squire hastened to meet her, and leading her to a sofa, sat down beside her. Your ladyship has had sufficient experience of Beaucliffe and its ways to know whether you are likely to be happy here. I will do all I can to make you so, and if devoted regard will content you, you shall have it. I should certainly never have taken another spouse, not even your lady- ship-if Mildred's marriage had turned out well— because there would inevitably have been a cer- tain rivalry between you which I could not have controlled. But now all will be pleasant, and my table will once more be graced by one who must command admiration and respect. I do not wish to flatter your ladyship, but the truth ought to be spoken. With regard to myself I will mention the sort of life I propose to lead. I shall live chiefly in the country, for the country suits me best, and I am used to it; and I am used to it; and I shall keep a certain amount of company, and I think your ladyship won't object." "Not in the least," she replied. "I shall like it." But though I shall endeavour to maintain the character I have acquired of a hearty country Squire, I shall not object to run up to town occasionally, and I should be very sorry indeed if your ladyship were to let your house in Berkeley Square." I should never think of letting it without some special reason," she replied. I am very fond of that house." Well, then we quite understand each other, and as nobody will interfere with us I think we shall do very well." I'm sure we shall," she replied. "And now let me ask you a question. Do you wish our nup- tials to take place here or in town ?" I don't care," he replied. But I should like them to be very quiet wherever they occur." "Just my own feeling," replied her ladyship. I could not bear a grand wedding, and I really believe all may be managed more quietly in town than here. Shall we go to St George's?" "Nothing can be done quietly there," replied the Squire, laughing. I picture to myself half I the Square full of splendid carriages, with any number of gorgeously attired lacqueys collected on the steps." Don't be alarmed," said her ladyship. If we are married at St. George's the business shall be very quietly conducted. That I promise you." "Then I agree. But I couldn't stand a regular West-end wedding. I'm too old for it." Your taste shall be consulted," she rejoined. I suppose you won't have a great dejeuner ?" "What for? if there will be so few guests to partake of it. But I leave all to you." In my opinion the first thing to be settled," said Lady Starkey, is the journey to Nice. As soon as they are gone there will be no more inter- ference, and you can make any arrangements you think proper. Get them off as soon as you can. If the journey is delayed till the winter something will occur to interfere with it, and it may never take place at all." I quite agree with your ladyship that it will be best for them to start as soon as they can, and I think this desirable object may be accomplished without any great difficulty. Let us see whether I any of them are on the lawn." On walking forth they found the whole party assembled there. To their great satisfaction Mildred and Sister Aline had expressed a strong desire to proceed to the shores of the Mediter- ranean without delay. If I go there immediately I may derive some benefit," said Mildred to Stanley, but if I wait till the winter, I believe it will be too late." At all events you can prolong your visit if you find the climate suits you." said Stanley. It is quite clear you derive no real benefit from your stay here." "I cannot perceive any improvement, I con- fess," said Sister Aline. But the shores of the Mediterranean may really benefit her, and there- fore ought to be tried." I am confident the climate will cure her, said Rose. I am confident the climate will cure her, said Rose. I don't like to offer an opinion, said Lady Starkey, I should think the late summer must be the best season for an invalid." "Let there beno delay whatever," said the Squire. Since everybody fancies Nice, try it. If it suits you, remain there, if you don't improve after a tair trial—say two or three months—come back." "Our preparations for early departure must immediately be made," said Stanley. "I should think you can all be ready in a week." "In half that time," Rose replied. While this conversation was going on the Squire had looked anxiously at Mildred, and became ap- prehensive that her life would not be long, what- ever benefit she might derive from a milder climate. Greatly moved, lie took her hand, and led her to some distance from the others. Tell me frankly, my dear child," he said. You are certain that you desire this proposed journey to the south of France ?" I like the notion of it exceedingly, dearest papa, and feci almost certain that I shall benefit by it. My chief fear is that my strength may not last." Looking at her with indescribable tenderness, the Squire said, If, instead of regaining strength, you become more feeble, not remain there till it may be too late to move, but return—promise me that!" "I promise it," she replied. "I would fain breathe my last at Beaucliffe, and I will not put off my return here till it may be impossible." Overcome by his feelings, Mr Warburton re- mained silent for a few minutes, and then asked in broken accents, Is there anything you would have done during your absence ? I only wish you to see that my horses are cared for," she replied. Never again shall I mount one of my favourite hunters—but I still love them as much as ever." Don't despair, my darling," said the Squire. I scarcely dare hold out hopes, but I trust your strength may return, and that you may be able to ride as boldly as in former days." Never, dear papa. I do not expect it. But I do not wish my stables broken up." "Rest easy about that. Not a single horse shall be sold or given away, without your permis- sion. But I ought to prepare you. When you come back, you will find Bcaucliffe changed in gome respects." There will be a new mistress of the house— ha she rojoined. It cost me a pfmg at first. But I am now reconciled to it. Y ou could not have chosen better." You really think so?" I do," she replied. I fully believe Lady Starkey will make you happy, and I shall be happy to see you so." I believe the housse will be more comfortable than it has been of late, for I need scarcely tell you it ;has been very unsettled." "I know it—I know it—^nd I also know how valuable to you will be Lady Starkey s experience and management." "Just my feeling," replied the Squire. "But now to come back to your proposed journey to the south of Fra«ce. I shall foel better satisfied if I have a good, sound, medical opinion as to the benefit to be derived from the change, and I shall, therefore, send a telegraphic message to Dr. Baguiey, of Chester, begging him to come over here to-morrow to meet Mr Newton, our old .surgeon, so that they may bold cOllsultation together on your case. What say you. darling ?" You know the great dislike I have to be governed by medical opinions, papa." y e, you have shown it by constantly refusing to see Mr Newton, but you must submit now. or I may be blamed." "Very well, send for the doctors, and I will see them but I must state beforehand that whatever they may say, I won't give up my proposed journey to Nice." k Then you are bent upon going?" Quite determined, and I really think-I shall be best out of the way for a few months, till you get certain affairs settled." Well, come back to the others," said the Squire, and I will go and send my telegram to Chester, and a mounted messenger to Mr Newton." ¡ CHAPTER LXVI.— A MEDICAL CONSULTATION l AND ITS RESULT. Next morning at eleven o'clock Dr. Bagufey (I and Mr Newton answered the summons they had received and were ushered by Glo^op into the library, where they found Mr Warburton. Both had a large country practice, and were men hi considerable ability. Neither had seen Mrs Stanley Brereton since her return to Beaucliffe, and there was something mysterious in her con- duct which perplexed them. I wish to consult you, gentlemen, about my daughter, Mrs Stanley Brereton," said the Squire. As you will see presently, she is in a very deli- cate state of th-coUfmn.1Dtion- I foa>~—and believes she would be mch" benefitted by passing a couple of months at N:IC..d B gulev "But I have no doubt of It, sal 3; ^-ffiuld^coSmenT^Lt her departure be de'aved for two or three months," said Mr New- ton 7 "She vvUl gain nothing. Our own climate jU'' BuTshe^Suade^ hereelfthat her only hope -t{n an immediate change," said the Squire She believes she will not live till the 'mSVhS'of the Mediterranean are not without danger," remarked Dr. Baguley. The mistral frequently prevails there at this time of year, and tliat wind is very dangerous to invalids. Just then the door was opened by the butler, and Mildred came in, accompanied by Stanley. The two medical men, who were seated, imme- diately arpse and advanced to meet her, both being extremely struck by her delicate appearance. After regarding her for a few minutes, they consulted each other by a look, the result of which was not very favourable to the invalid. Dr. Baguley likewise felt her pulse, and shook his head. You will do better where you are than by going to Nice," he remarked. Decidedly," said Mr Newton. I recommend you to keep quiet." But my wife believes that her life may be saved by a visit to Nice," said Stanley. I do," she said. And I am certain I am doomed if I remain here." Y ou are mistaken," said Dr. Baguley. I ■ could not advise you to go to Nice now—nor could Mr Newton." Certainly not," replied the other. But I mean to go, whatever may be the conse- quences," said Mildred. You must not permit you wife tQsacrifice her- self thus, sir," said Mr Newton. I really cannot help it, gentlemen," rejoined Stanley. She is determined to go, and I think opposition may do more harm than good." Of course, a great deal will depend upon the weather," remarked Dr. Baguley. "If it hap- pens to be favourable she may do very well, but my chief fear is from the dry north-west wind—or mistral—should that prevail. There are several very able physicians at Nice, so you are always sure of good advice." I am very glad to hear that," replied the Squire. "Have you any further questions to ask me, gentlemen?" said Mildred. "If not, I will retire." No, there is no need to detain you, madam," replied Mr Newton, gravely." We have all the information we require, and Dr. Baguley and my- self will consult together before our departure, and write out a few prescriptions which we will leave with your husband." We need not advise you to be very careful," said Dr. Baguley. Your life depends upon your ware." Mildred then quitted the room, attended by Stanley, who returned in a few minutes, and found the two medical men seated at a writing table, engaged in deep consultation, and looking very grave. I very much doubt whether you will be able to bring your wife back alive to England, Mr Brereton," said Dr. Baguley, giving him three or four prescriptions, which he had placed in the envelope. "Her case is a peculiar one, and I am afraid is already too far advanced to be checked. But she may be soothed, and that is important. We will see her again before her departure. "Pray do so," said Stanley. "We shall not start for a week, and you can pay her a couple more visits during that interval, so as to ascertain how she goes on." "We will come again on the day after to- morrow, and at the same time," said Mr Newton. They then took leave, and the servants in at- tendance were struck by their grave expression, as they proceeded to their carriages. When Mildred returned to her own room, she found Sister Aline and Rose waiting for her. What has been decided on ? said Rose, eaSe^jj€y have given a very reluctant assent to my departure to Nice," replied Mildred. That I fully expected. They wanted to keep you here. But what do they think of your case ? asked Sister Aline. Very badly, I believe," replied Mildred. They scarcely gave me any hopes." Never mind! Keep up your spirits cried Rose. I believe you'll disappoint them both." "I have very poor hopes of recovery," said Mildred. I felt so ill just now, when I was under examination by the medical men, that I thought I should have died. They may come again, but I won t see them. Why not ? asked Rose. "I am sure they would cure you if they could." Perhaps so," rejoined Mildred. But they cannot." Just then, Stanley entered the room. I want you to take a short walk with me in the garden," he said. "It must be a very short walk, she replied, for I have not much strength left." Taking his arm she descended the back stairs, and went with him into the garden. Evidently he had something important to say to her, but'he hesitated to say it. I a in going to ask you a very serious ques- tion," he said. Forgive me if I am wrong, but it is important I should know the exact truth. Something I overheard said by the medical men just now awakened suspicions which I myself once entertained." She became as pale as death, and trembled in every limb. Let us sit down," he rejoined. Your strength IS fmlmg you. He led her to a bench as quickly as he could. As soon as she was seated she caught hold of his arm and, looking as if she would penetrate to his soul, said,— Now tell me what you suspected." Stanley answered in a low but distinct voice— Forgive me if I was wrong. But I suspected you had taken poison—or, rather, I thought tnat poison had been given you—slow poison. I afte wards dismissed this opinion, but it has ju been revived by the remarks of the medical men. What did they say ?" she asked. "These were DrBalguley's exactwords," replied Stanley, I am convinced she is suffering from theeffects of slow poison.' 'Itlookslike it, I own,' replied the other, it cannot possibly be. "Dr. Baguley was right," said Mildred, in tones of the deepest remorse. I am suffering from the effects of poison—poison self-administered—but it failed in its object, and as left me as you see, to a miserable existence." "Gracious heaven! Is it possible ?" exclaimed Stanley, with a deep groan. Mildred made no reply-her sense forsook her, and she fell back utterly unconscious, on the bench. Stanley did not call for assistance, nor did he attempt to restore her., but watched by her side for nearly half an hour, when she revived. At first she was greatly confused, but she soon recovered sufficiently to be able to re-enter the house with her husband's support, and was de- livered over by him to Sister Aline's tender care. (To he continued)

A GOOD BTR0KE"0F BUSI- NESS. At "Y e Fancy Fayre" in the metropolis the other day, one of the first things the Princess of Wales purchased was a magnificent bouquet, for which she gave a couple of sovereigns or so. Having inspected the various stalls, she was on the point of departing, when one of the ladies who had been most indefatigable in dij^^ing of her wares, and who Vat evidently a personal friend of Her Royal Highness, stopped her: "What, are you going alrsadv ?" "Yes," said the Princess. Ol, th„svi, do give me your bouquet, and wait a moment and see what I will do with it." Her Royol Highness complied with the request at once, whereupon the pietty vendor—for she was a very beautiful woman—promptly announced to the crowd of male admirers standing around her stall that flowers from the Princess's bouquet were on sale at 10s apiece—" oily a limited number to be disposed of." In less than two minutes 30 gallants had each one in his button-hole, and 30 golden half-sovereigns had been added to the funds of the charity.

HEROISM IN MEDICINE. We learn that the Queen has been graciously pleased to confer the decoration of the Albert Medal of the first class (for gallantry in saving life) upon David Lowson, M.D., of Hud- dersfield, under the following circumstances On the 12th November, 1880, Dr. Lowson was called to attend the child Police-constable Higgin- bottom, of Huddersfield, who was suffering from laryngeal diphtheria. tie performed the operation of tracheotomy, but suffocative attacks super- vened, and on visiting the child next morning he found it in a livid statt, and breathing only with great difficulty. Seeing hat the only chance of saving the child's life sucking the tube clear, he at once, at imminent risk to himself, applied his lips to the tube and sucked out the accumu- lated mucus, thereby affoiding immediate relief to the patient. Throughout the day he continued, by means of a piyette, to sUlk out the mucus from the trachea. Notwithstanding his heroic efforts the child unfortunately di.d on the third day after the operation. Dr. Lowson's heroism was rewarded by a severe attack of diphtheria, with which hb was seized in the coivse of a few days. Other dangerous illness supeiyened, compelling him eventually to abandon his profession and to retire from a lucrative partnership. We are much gratified at being able to give readers particu- lars of an act on the part of Her Majesty which will be deeply appreciated by the medical profes- sion.—Lancet-

A MICHI(MN~YILL^OE IN ASHES. DETROIT, J une 13,1851.—The village of Luding- ton, situated on the Lake Michigan at the ter- minus of the Flint and Pere Mf-rquate Railway, was visited by a most destructive cojflagnition last night, which nearly wiped out be entire business portion of the town. Among princi- pal looses are Gebharte's clothing estabis}ixiient, Waller's grocery Singer's Sewing Machine Agency Whipple's Marble Works ijtowe's furniture store Colton's flour, and feed gtore store of Sherman Brothers, in whicl was located the Post-office William Hiygitt, drugs; Hudson's paper store; C. C. \\rd's grocery Williams and Wheeler, hardware 1. F. Alexander, drugs, telegraph, and signal offices every law. office in town and their conteij; • Shackleton's furniture store Ewing wagon shyp Aid rich's grocery, Dr. Latimer's, drugs AcC^u Drach and Co., dry goods Andrews, stationeiv Fralick and Hammond, flour and feed the Co,I gregational Church, the Episcopal Clmrch arn rectory, the Methodist parsonage, the City Hall a large number of insurance, dental, and other! small offices, saloons, dwellings, &c. The efforts of the citizens were powerless to stay the flames, which swept resistlesslv everything before them. The loss is estimated at 200,000 dols. The in- surance is at present imattainabla, but is com- paratively small, as the burned district was composed exclusively of wooden buildings. Tht: conflagration is a terrible blow to this youncr and thriving town.—Yovk Herald.

| [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY THB AUTHOR.] WESTCROSS, A GLAMORGANSHIRE STORY. BY THE Author of "After LongYears," "Among the Welsh Hills," &c. CHAPTER XIII.—A QUIET WEDDING, When evening came, Thornton returned to the cottage. Elsie's shy glance and vivid blush were flatter- ing welcome but when he pressed for her answer she was evasive and irresolute. I a ould be such a useless wire," she objected, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands as they lay in her lap. I could not even look after your house. Besides, I have always heard that an invalid wife is a terrible draùback; a sor;, of dead weight about a man's neck. I could not bear," in a trembling, passionate tone, to be a burden to yon." You will never be a burden to te, Elsie, except," he added with a smile, when I carry you up and down stairs; and then a very precious one." Unconsciously he had hit upon an argument in his own favour. To Elsie, to whom all walking was difficult and the clitllbill of stairs particularly irksome, the idea of swift and easy transit to and fro in the safe clasp of strong, kind arms was very attractive. Thornton perceived that his words had made an iiti|«ressioi), and was encouraged to proceed, "I am ready to admit," said he, "that to a young man with his way to make in the world, an invalid wife would be a hindrance. But I am not a young man. I have fought my battle, and have attained a fair position and a sufficient in- come. I don't wish my wife to trouble herself with the fatigues of housekeeping; there will be no need. I only want her to love me, and make my house home by her presence. I want to find her ever by the hearth, with a smile and a kiss and "kind word for me when I come home. Would that be too much to ask, Elsie?" leaning forward and laying his hand on her nervous, flut- tering fingers. No," she answered in a low voice. You are generous you give much and ask little. But why you should ask this little of me—woy you should wish me. a weak useless invalid, to be your wife passes my comprehension. Tell me why ? she entreated, suddenly lifting her eyes to his, For the best of reasons because I love you," he answered tenderly. But if you want to know why I love you, I can give no reason beyond this, that you remind me of one very dear to me a sweet and lovely girl, who died loug agonheni was a youug man, too poor to marry. You Imve her eyes and gentle" ays, and beside her you are the only woman who has ever touched my hearr, This is the only explanation I can give. Does it coutent you, J £ l*ie ? "Yes," she answered with a sense of relief. The fact that she in some respects resembled Thornton's first love made his affection for her seem more natural. It removed the sense uf strangeness and. unreality that had oppresed her, and also affaced from her mind the half conscious suspicion that be might have been influenced by pity. Then you consent ? You will be my wife he cried eagerly, his grip tightening on her hand. "Yes; if you will still have it so," she answered quietly, "And you love me?" The girl hesitated. It is so sudden. I hardly know." "Then I will teach you." saiil Thornton, smil- ing, ( "'Will it be a hard lesson, think you ? Look up, Elsie, and tell me the truth." She obeyed, and read in the rugged face bending over her a depth of affection that touched her to the quick. As gazed a sense of wonder and happiness, not unmixed with awe, almost deprived her of the power of utterance. I think." she faltered, It will be a lesson easily learnt, and—and never forgotten." Amy had heard from Janet of Mr Thornton's expected visit while in London, but she was not informed of Elsie's engagement until her return home, whin she was much surprised and de- lighted, as her friends expected her to be. A few weeks later the wedding took place at Westcross Church. Mr Tresillian performed the ceremony and Amy, and Janet, and Ellis Lee, who gave aw y the bride, were the only friends present. As the bridal pair stood side by side, the disparity of age was very apparent, and a stranger might have considered it au unequal match; but one glance at Elsie's liappy face was sufficient to prove that her heart went freely with her hand. ¡ At the churchyard gate au open carriage and pair were waning to convey Mr and Mrs Thornton to Cardiff. They would drive slowty, halt on the way for lunch, and arrive at their destination in time for dinner. At Cardiff they would remain for a day or two, and then go on by lail to Lon- don, all invalid carriage being procured for Elsie, and evtry possibly precaution taken to lessen the fatisjue of the journey. When the ceremony was concluded, Thornton led his biide slowly and tenderly down the nave an i out into the porch, then, without a word of warning, lifted her gently in his arms and carried her off to the carriage. You must not walk any more to-day, Elsie. You have done too much already. You see," lie added, looking with a smile into the blushing face so near his own, I lose no time in asserting my new authority. It will be useless to rebel." But the new-mvide wife showed no signs of re- belling. Her Lead rested contentedly on her husbaud's shoulder, and she did not even trouble herself about her new bonnet A few minutes later the farewells were spoken, and Janet, with tearful eyes, stood watching the wedding carriage until it turned a coiner and disappeared from sight. The parting betwe n the sisters was keenly felt on both sides but perhaps moat by her who was left, who had now lost the object of her constant care and solicitude. But after a few quiet tears JalJet quickly recovered herself. She was far from unhappy. Her own future now lay before her, fair and unclouded. In the following October she was to leave for India, to become the wife of her faithful lover, and in the meantime was to spend a month with Amy, afterwards goincr on to London to remain with Elsie until the day of departure arrived.. Wei), and so it is the invalid who is married I first, after all," observed Mr Trissilliun, as the little party walke i back to the Rectory. c, Who woul1 have tbOll"ht iP" "Who indeed!" returued Ellis, This is not only an unexpected but also a very romantic way out of the difficulty. Is it not ?" turning to Amy. "Yes, an I a bappv way too. I hope," she re- plied. "Y ou have taken a great d^al of trouble, 3lr Le She looked up, aud their eyes met. It was for her sake that he had first interested himself in Eiste.andsheknevit." "Yes, we are greatly indebted to Mr Lee for ad his kindness," said Janet warmly, I don't know," she added, glancing at him." whether there is anything you ) a ticnlarly desire to make you happy, but if there is, I hope and wisn,with all my he it, that you may get it. Don't j'ou, Amy?" with a smile and a look of mischief, I hope Air Lee may have hatever is good for him," she replied, dea.urely but there was, a soft colour in her cheek, and she dared tiot lock "n The succeeding weeks flow rapidly bV Amv was delighted to find herself at home' again Once more amor., mine own people," she had saidt': ,,er rather, with a smile, as they drove Once more amor., mine own peopJe," she had said to ,,er rather, with a smile, as they drove tiirough the village on the evening of her return She had suffered much under Arthur's roof" but it was over now. She had escaped the a'iguish and the contlict, and the »c;nse of relief was so great that it seemed for the time as though she had letc all pam behind. Her soirit rose, and she resumed ner various duties and occupations with the energy and interest of former day. with the energy and interest of former day. danet was happy aUo. She had had doubts about I her sisters marriage; doubt, whether" a man might be trusted to take proper care of her dear invalid. But the spirit of joy and content which breathed through Elsie's letters dispelled all these misgivings a load was lifted from her shoulders, and she entered with hearty enjoyment shoulders, and she entered with hearty enjoyment into all the little festivities which Amy planned in her honour. At these sociable little picnics and unpretending al Jresco tea-drinkings Ell is not unhequently assisted, doing much in an unobtrusive manner to ensuie their success. Amy did not percive at the time how he contrived to lighten her labours and promote the enjoyment of all present nothing I was a trouble that he did for her. She did i;oc guesa how he h id counted the days of her absence, and how he rejoiced at her return, for he was now to conceal his feelings. The first keen glance showed him that she had suffered. There was a tired look on the pale, lily and the sweet dark eyes turned towards him with a shade of ap- prehendon which struck him with remorse. Never again should she he pained with any words of his. He had resolved beforehand how he would comport himself towards her in the future, and took up his new rule tho moment they met, maintaining it on all occasions with such stern eelf-cwntrol that Amy soon ceased to think of him as a cruel lover, and began to lean on him as the kind familiar friend, whose help aud advice were always to be relied on. Sometimes her confidence filled him with delight, at other times witli dismay but whatever he felt he gave no sign, and if the struggle was hard he had his reward in the smile of welcome on Amy's lip that no.v greeted his appearance. He would hear anything rather than that sue should shrink from him. It is the happiest days, alas! that fly the fastest, and all too soon the time came when Janet must say good bye to Westcross and the friends she loved. For all her bright prospects her he at was heavy, as her eyes rested for the last time on the Rectory garden and the green Colhugh, on the quaint rambling old village, and the sweet flowery lanes which slie iidght. never spe again. By the time shehad reached London,however, she had recovered I er spirits and a day or two later sent Amy a long and amusing letter, giving a full and particular account 01 Elsie's new home and surroundings. It you could see her," she wrote, "you would think she had been married for months, so well does her new position suit her, and she it. You know that I have had fears and doubts not a few. The affair was so sudden, and altogether unexpected, but now that I have seen husband and u ife together, and wituossed with my own eyes the care he takes of her, I can go to India with an easy conscience, for I know that it is a happy marriage." Aud Janet was right. It was a happy marriage. The husband and wife not only loved, but suited each other. letter, and the smile, the kiss, arid the kind word were never wanting, A wife fond of society, who made her own engagements if respective of his Ci mini's and goings, would not have suited him at all. But he never found Elsie out.Enrly or late, wet or fine, she was always waiting for Idui. In the winter her easy chair was piaced by the fireside, in the summer by the window but wherever 1'1* might be her eyes always turned to the door, her face always brightened when tie entered. To come (into his wife's sitting room, and find her bright «nd happy with her books, fancy-work and lowers; prettily dressed, and surrounded by every y>mforf. that affection could sagaest, was a con- tnnal delight to the busy, hani-woiking mrgeon. left all worries ami professional cares outside he entered that gentle Dresence. andbrnathed for a "bile the refreshing atmosphere of domestic peace and felicity, Klsie's white hands were not very industrious, perhaps, bnt they did that which stronger and more active fingers might have failed to do. They wove into the w .rp of her husband's life the golden threads of love, gladness, and con- tent. CHAPTER XIV.—WON AT LAST. A year passed away, and again it was summer. One sultry afteinoon Amy was returning to West- cross through the meadows, having taken a. message from her father to a neighbouring farm. Mr Tressillian had bidden her to walk quickly for the glass was falling, and he feared a storm but it « as haymaking time and he had DO one else to send. Amy obeyed and walked rapidly but now she was half wav home, the storm did not come, and islie was getting tired, and insensibly her steps slackened. It was the anniversary of Elsie's wedding-day. How quickly time had flown it seemed but as yesterday, and yet a whole year had rolled away. "I suppose I have been happy," she thought, with a sellse of surprise, and uncan- sciously her lips parted in a smile. Yes now she came to reflect, life had flowed plea-antly of late. The last year had been marked by no great events, but it had been a time of rest and tran- quillity after the storm of paiD, humiliation aud distress which had preceded it. She would never forget the misery which the news of Arthur's marriage occasioned her, nor the pain she had endured while under his roof. She looked back upon that visit to London as to a kind of fiery ordeal through which "he had passed by her own decree. The experience had been salutary; she had come out victorious and" on back her peace of mind, But the victor had been bruised and wounded, and though the scars were hidden, if a rough or sudden hand were laid upon them she would wince even yet. She had conquered, but she was naturally faithful and could not forget. But Amv's mind just now was not occupied by any but pleasant themes. She was engaged in reviewing the past year, and" as a^tonisned to fimt ho in all its small events Ellis Leesti od for- ward a central figur., How.kind and goo i he had been to her When she had felt dull and lonely after Janet's departure. ow wauy little things he had done to cheer her. When once she began to remember his kindnesses they spread out into a long list too numerous to be couuted. And never bv word or look had he distressed her by any allusion to that scene on the mariner's path some 15 months ago. Of late she had often won- dered if he remembered it, and the words he had then used. He appeared to be quite contented, and dropped no hint of anything wanting in his life. And yet his words had been, "Is all be waiting, waiting always,"aad Amy did not like to think that ho had forgotten. But what -as this patte ing down on the top of her parasol? The rain had come at last W' ile she had been engrossed in thought the storm had been steadily drawing nearer and nearer, and now the sky II as black and threatening, and an omin. ous flash rent the murky clouds. Amy g ized round in ahum, and seeing a cottage on t e other side of the field, ran to ards it with all speed. The thunder rolled and the r ain fell in torrents as Ellis Lee hurried along a bye road in the vicinity of High Meadow on his way home from visiting- a sick child. "Dilly a face at the window," but the sight of it was enough to arrest his progress, and bring him promptly to the cottage door. What.in the world are you doing here 2" he exclaimed, as Amy met him on the threshold. I have been to Sweetwater Farm, and was overtaken by the storm on my way back, and ran here for shelter. There is no one in," she added, seeing him glance round. ''They are all out haymaking, I sni pose." No doubt. Have you been here long ? Half an hour I have been looking out of the winuow and longing to see somebody come." A re you afraid ?" he asked kindly. "Not afraid, exactly," she answered, colouring, "But I don't like to be quite alone in a thunder- storm" And I don't care to be out in one." said Ellis with a smile, shaking the water from his hat, 0: How it does come down You have not escaped altogether," he added, noticing the limp condition of her pretty blue muslin dress. Oh, that is nothing. What should I have done if there had been no shelter near? or fit these good, unsuspicious folks had locked the doors behind them when they went out hay making ? It was very fortunate they didn't," said Ellis, approaching the fireplace. The fire had been carefully damped down, but a judicious poke from the doctor caused it to show signs of life, and with the aid of a few sticks lying near, a cheerful blaze soon sprang up. Then he looked about, and finding some small logs in a corner, promptly threw one on, "I know old Rogers and his wife who live here," he explained, They are a respectable old couple. I'll make it all straight with them. Come to the fire, I am suie you must be cold," She obeyed, and stood beside him, looking round the room" itla more attention than she had hitherto bestowed upon it. It was a neat, homely kite en, and contained a substantial chest of drawers, and a dresser wetl supplied with willow-patterned plates and dishes. A short, chequered curtain shaded the window, and before it stood a deal table, another smaller one, with three legs, occu- pyillg the ceutre oi the Hoor. On one side of the fire place there was a wooden arm chair, and op osite, with its back to the window, stood a small settle capable, perhaps, ot holding two persons ar, a pinch, Won't you sit down ?" suggested Ellis. "Sit here on this settle and you won't see the lightning so much," for he noticed that she instinctively sought to cover face whenever there was a pariicularly bright flash. Amy sat do n and Ellis took the armchair. I he log on the fire was now blazing merrily, and the ruddy flames lightened the gloom that every moment grew deeper. The storm was cer- tainly getting worse. Their ears were deafened with the roaring alld cracking of 'he thunder over- bead, and the forked lightning v as almost continuous. Amy cowered in her corner, and covered her eyes that she might not see the terrible blue light that filled the room. Ellis left his scat and stood be-ide her, He wculd like to have taken her into his arms if he had dared. "How long will this last, do you think?" she enquired anxiously. Oh, it will soon be over now," he answered, in a reassuring ton«. "T think it is moderating alreacx ° They relapsed into siieuce again. In a severe thunderstorm ordinary conversation is not only difficult but displeasing. It grates against the feelings of most persons as irreverent and out of place—like laughter in a church. But though they did not speak, each was acutely conscious of the other's presence. They had never been alone for any time since that memorable interview on the cliff, the thought of which, by some subtle link of sympathy, was now present in the minds of both. The strong, bearded man whose tender glance rested on the gill's bowed head, was wondering whether the time had come when he might ven- ture to speak again, Hope had sprung up in his heart of late, for he felt that there was a change in Amy. He felt, but could not define it. It 1\ as penetrating but impalpable, like the sweet breath ot spring in the air, which delights the senses and defies analysis. He had said that he would remain silent until by some token of encouragement she gave him leave to spek, Migiit he venture to interpret this lieW, iK'tfiscribhble something in her looks and manner as the sign^ lie sought or would it be better to wait a little longer ? She might not as yet be aware of any difference in might not as yet b aware of any difference in her e'f, and though his love y-a3 p seionate and his need of her great, v.ouirt Vait for months or years rather thiS :"cur the risk of wound; an:| distressing her as e had done befoi j, Ellis was so absorbed in his reflections that !:& did not perceive that the stotm was abating until Amy looked upwind said with a smile, "I wonder what Mis lvogers wonid say if she could see us making ourselves so much at home in her kitchee," I She wouldn't object, lam sure. I shall take the earliest opportunity of telling her all about it." As he epoke lie moved towards the window, and Amy followed him. The sky showed signs of clearing, but the rain still fell, aud the narrow lane in front was con- verted into a water-course. ABlY eyed the muddy stream with some appre- hension, I wonder how deep it is. Or if-" You are not thinking of walking ?" interrupted Ellis quickly. But I must; my father will bs anxious. You I see the storm is nearly over now." Yes, but the roads will he in a terrible state, not fit walking for ladies. Do you think I would let you go through that ?" pointing to the turbid water. "I will drive yon home. My iiouse is close by. If you don't mind waiting fur ten minutes or a quarter of an Jour, I "ill be back with the dog-cart in that time." You are very kind," said Amy, grateful but hesitating. But—but you will have to go tiirough the wet yourself. And it is giving you so much trouble. Trouble he echoed,and his fine eyes said as plaiidy as words that nothing was a trouble he did tor her. In-a little over the time name the do cart drew up at the cottage door and Ellis sprang out. •' I have va feminine wrappings to offer you, but I think this might do," said he, unfolding a grey Scotch plaid. Amy hwked doubtful, I don't think I waut anything." Yes you do," said he decidedly. Do you consider a imiftHn dress and ecarf suitable attire for driving in the rain ? Come, let me put in on." He spoke with kind authority and she sub- mitted standing meek and silent, her dark lashes sweeping her cheeks, and a faint blush coding and going. Perhaps the doctor w as more susceptable to the electrical influences in the air then he would have cared to admit, for his hand trembled a. he arranged the folds of the shawl around Amv's shoulders, and once when he accidentally touched her warm, white ncok he felt a positive shock. In a few minutes they had taken their places, and were bowling swiftlv to •ards Westcross, Amy declined an umbreila, anddre.v a corner of the plaid over her heat), The rain is nothing now, and I like to look round. It is so pleasant driving in a high vehicle like this," Lee thought it pleasant also, with her for a companion, too pleasant to continue at that pace, or their destination would be reached in a few minutes, and he accordingly took advantage of the first gentle ascent to check his hoise to a sober walk. Yes; it is Elsie's wedding day. It does not seem a year sines she was married, does it ? How quickly 111110 has flown," He locked pleased. "I am glad you think so. I i\ as sf.aid you ¡ would find life at Westcross very dull, and the place uninteresting, after your visit to London." On the contrary, I like it better new than I ever. "And the people ?" he asked eagerly. "The people are much the eime, I think." Havt.ii't yotir feelings changed towards any of them he persisted. h Is there DO one whom you like better than you did—bay fifteen mouths ago ?" .l "I don't khow whom you mean," she answered nervously. "Yes, you do, Amy, love," and the man's very soul seemed breathed in those low.toned words. Have Too nothing to say to met'5 1 The eirl trembled. What shall I say?" "Give me leave to speak," There was a pause. Ellis saw that she v, as much agitated. His app al had touched a chord that had never vibra ed before, and for a few minutes she could not speak. He waited. Gradu- ally her Jips ceased to quiver; the sweet lily face was slowly turned towards him, iind a soft voice Whispered, tC Speak; I am willing to listen." ¡ With the sound of «edding bells my story closes. Amy made a sweet > ife, and was popu- larly considered to be far more attractive and charming as a matron than she had ever been as j a irl, though there are one or two well-informed persons who even no will never allow her girlish fascinations to be decried. In the course of time 1 children's voices and happy laughter rang through the old rooms and quaint gardens at High Meadow; and if any trace of the old pain lingered iu the young wife's heart it vanished for ever at the first touch of baby lips. Ellis continued to follow hi« profes-ion, and became well kilo, nand much liked in the vicinity and although he never became rich, and was never heard of beyond the limits of his own lleighhourhood, I think he may be considered a successful man, for he bad attained his heart's desire, and was grateful, happy, and contented. It was a rare thing for husband or wife to leave the home which they so dearly lowd. Arthur Tressillian is a Q C. and a member of Parliament, aud further distinctions are supposed to be in store for him. His ability alld success are often spoken of, and if he is ever haunted by teuder memories or vain regrets none klows it but himself. To the surprise of his friends he has turned out a devoted husband, and the sil,dow is gone from the face of his beau iful wife. Augusta writes a long, kind letter now and ihen to Mrs Lee. and thus ec oes from the world of politics and fashion find their way to 1 iitrh Meado v. Amy likes to hear what is going OD, but no tinge of envy mars the serenity other hap. y life. [THK END.]

A CHICAGO GUNPOWDER j PLOT. The Chicago Stove Works, located at the corner ] of Blue Island Avenue and Paulina-street, came ] very near being the scene of a tragedy recently j on a wholesale scale such as even the Molly c Maguires in their palmiest days never attempted, i The calamity was averted by the nearest chance. ) A moulder and his helper happened to notice i that the clamps upon a flask which they were s about to charge with molten iron were not £ fastened as they were when the flask was closed c Thursday night, and while attempting to re- c close them properly were prompted to examine the condition of the mould within the flask. First one i thing and then another excited their suspicion, ] and the final result of their investigation was the ] finding of about two pounds of gunpowder wrapped i up in a newspaper, the corners of which were pmned together, and which had been placed in a i holescoopedout for the purpose in the sand directly beneath the flat surface of the mould. Joseph La- ] fleur, or Platt as he is called by some, the moulder < m question, carried the parcel at once to the com- i pany's office, and called upon Sessions, the helper, ] and other workmen to verify the story which he told concerning the find. As the news became noised < about the workmen upon the premises became tumultuous, and it was with difficulty they were i prevented from sallying out to punish some union 1 moulders who were loafing about the premises, whom they blamed for the plot. Wiser counsels prevailed, however, and the matter was at once called to the attention of the police by the manager of the works, Mr Moore. Owing to the lateness of ] the hour it was impossible to do much, but Capt. O'Donnell has promised that attention will be given the matter bright and early this morning. The discovery that the flask had been tampered with was made just in the nick o' time." A few instants more and the molten iron would have been poured into it. The explosion that would have instantly taken place would have been terrible. From two to a dozen, and perhaps more, workmen would certainly have been killed out- right, and the chances are that not a man in the shop would have escaped uninjured.—New York Herald.

THE WEATHER AND THE CROPS. There have been showrers and, in some instances, heavy rains during the past week, but on the whole the weather has been fine, and dry temper- ature normal. There are wheat fields not yet in ear, and a very considerable acreage of spring corn remains in a backward condition, apparently stunted beyond the possibility of a crop of straw, or of an average crop of grain. There is now no prospect of an abundant harvest. The deliveries of native wheat are now so restricted at market after market that there can be no doubt that the crop of 1880 is very small. The few samples on offer have realised Is to 2s per qr. advance during 1 the week in several provincial exchanges and in J London on Friday Is improvement on Monday's rates was in some cases refused. English flour is J moderate supply, and brings in 6d to Is per sack more now. There is nothing like animation J in trade, which is carried on within the smallest practical limits. Trade for barley is quite nominal, and the scarcity of grmdmg sampls keeps prices firm. Malt is unchanged. There is a better feel- ing in the oat trade, and values at the close of the week were firm. A shade higher for beans and peas, with a slow steady trade.—Lane 1 Express.

1 VITRIOL WIN vj IN ) WOLVERHAMPTON. A case of vitriol throwing occurred in Wolver- hampton late on Saturday night, which might have*terminated fatally. Henrietta Connolly, an operative's wife, was crossing the London and North Western station by the tunnel, when she came upon a man and woman quarrelling. The •woman threw a glass bottle containing vitriol at the man, but it missed him, and struck Connolly, who put up her arm to shield her face. Connolly fainted, but was removed to the hospital, where the burns in her arm were dressed. A great part of her clothing was burnt off. The woman who threw the bottle decamped.

FATALITIES AT SEA. A CAPTAIN AND SIX OF HIS CREW WASHED OVERBOARD. The barque Davina was abandoned at sea after encountering a terrible storm, during which Capt. Scott and six of his officers and crew were washed overboard, and the second officer had his thigh broken. The captain's widow and child and seven of the crew were exposed to tremendous seas for two days, but a length were taken off with great difficulty by the Liverpool ship Cardiganshire, b}T which they were landed at St. Helena, and eventually brought on to Plymouth, where they were landed on Monday. The barque was seen afloat two days after, abandoned.

A WILL SUIT ARRANGED. In the Probate Division on Saturday, the suit of Irving v. Kartington, in which the will of Miss Mary Amy Bruce, of Brighton, was propounded, involving a fortune of £50,000, was before the court. The Marquis of Hartington, as Secretary of State f0r Indií, opposed the probate, and set up a previous will, by which the money was left to I founding a charitable institution at Calcutta. The case was withdrawn after opening, and an arrange- ment come to by which plaintiff would receive £20,000, the other £20,000 going to the charitable institution.

SHOCKING ACCIDENT AT GREENWICH. Shortly after 110011 on Monday, a shocking acci- dent happened at Huntley's Coal Wharf, Brew- liouse-lane, Greenwich. A wall against which 1 many tons of coal were ¡.;toc1,ed fell, l-'8.rtia.lly burying ten persons. These were extracted as soon as possible, and taken to the Seaman's Hospital, where eight now remain, the lives of a waterman named Burgess, and one child are dispaired of.

EXPLOSION ON BOARD A SHIP. An explosion occurred on Saturday morning on ) board the three-masted schooner Iteneishav, off Sunderland. It appears that two of the crew went into the forepeak and struck a light, which caused an accumulation of gas to explode. Both were severely injured, but the vessel was only slightly damaged.

SERIOUS TRAMWAY ACCI- DENT AT WOOLWICH. A tramcar on the Woolwich and Plumstead line was overturned on Sunday afternoon by restive horses. All passengers were more br less injured, several being removed to Woolwich In- firmarv*

THE CHILDREN'SHOUE: COLUMN FOR GIRLS AND BOYS. ¡ DY MAGGIE SYMINGTON. Between the dark and the daylight, When the nights beginning tv lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupation That is known as the Children's Hour. Lowjjelhitr. AN INTRODUCTION.—FUTURE CHATS.—OUR PLUM PCDHING.—DAISYPENCE.—CHAUCER'S FLOWER, EYE OF THE DAY.—LEGEND OF THE DAISY.— FAIUIKS AND FLOWERS.—LA MAEGUEEITE.— FREXCH, GERMAN, AND SWIsS CUSTOMS.— ACBOSTICS.—A FKKNCH PUZZLE. It is generally the case that when one person wishes to be introduced to another person, a. third person is called in to present them to each other. But it sometimes happens that no third person is conveniently near to perform the ceremony, and then the first person is obliged to say to the second person," I am so and so, find you are somebody else, let us shake hands and be friends." Now, this ispre- cisely my position at the present moment. Unless we can, just for the fun of the thing, imagine my pen to be a person, there is nobody to present me to you, nor you to me, dear little readers, who- ever you may be, and wherever you may Le. So let us just shake hands and begin at once. I cannot quite tell you who and what I am at this present moment, but once upon a time I was a little girl; and that is not so long ago yet that I have for- gotten what it is to feel like one. I hope you will ¡ discover before very long that I can understand what both boys and girls feel like at times, be- cause it is necessary for us to have much sympath v with each other if I am to do as I propose, and gather you all about me from week to week, and hold chats directly with you. I don't mean to say that I can gather the hundreds of little children who will search this column about me really, but there is a clever fairy called Imagina- tion, who can make these meetings almost as real as if we saw each other face to face. Nor do I mean simply to chatter to you, and nothing more. Under the guidance of this same good fairy we will now and then take rambles abroad, try to learn from the hundreds of flowers and grasses, and may- be, seaside weeds and shells, something about the God who made them. We will try to learn more still from the lives of great and jood men and women who were once little children like yourselves, puzzling out big questions in their little brains, and some- times finding it very hard to be good, just as you lo. Then, when the winter winds blow and the snow lies white on the ground, when we draw the :urtains snugly and gather about the warm fire- side, I hope to tell you of many old and new jamss at which you can play, to set you puzzles of ill sorts, to suggest work for your busy fingers, to Dell you stories,and to talk to you about the doings of men and women whose places in the great world you will have to fill some day, and now and then to set you laughing with some merry rhyme. It seems to me that this weekly hour may "grow to be a very pleasant one both to you and me, bhat we may possibly begin to count the days until it comes round, that you will be wondering what [ shall have to say next, and in my turn shall svonder what you will think of my next budget. rhere is one thing to be borne in mind, that a josy chat cannot be all on one side therefore I nvite as many of you as like to do so to have a mice in the matter. If you give me your opinion >f the things I tell you, I shall know what pleases rou most, and, sometimes, but I do not promise ilways, your opinions shall guide me in my choice )f subjects. We never can tell what a pudding is ike till we taste it; so I will make no more promises now, but trust you will find our pudding is nice as I shall endeavour to make it. I suppose you have all of you tasted plum- widding, and remember quite clearly what it is like. Perhaps you can give a good guess, too, as to what it is made of. 1 believe some little Sly- boots amongst you has been into the kitchen and actually seen what cook puts into the pudding. I fancy I see her with one finger thrust into her nouth, and oh such a knowing look in her eyes. Sow tell me Sly-boots, how cook makes a plum- judding. "Lots of plums," says Sly-boots sagerly, and sugar, and lemon-peel, and suet, md some flour, that's all I know." Sly-boots puts the plums and sugar first as the most Ïm- )ortant ingredients, but it would be a very funny ort of pudding if it were made of all plums and ugar and no tlour. Now although the flour is me of the most important things, when the pud- ling is properly mixed and boiled, it tastes almost is sweet as though it were all made of sugar. This s just what I want our pudding to do. I shall put many other things into it besides sugar and plums, but I mean to do it so carefully that they rill not in the least spoil its sweetness. What a deliciously hot day this has been The irst day of the holidays, and how tired you all ire with scampering about gardens and fields, etting off the superfluous steam that has been compressed for so long When I was a little girl ive used to earn pocket-money in the holidays by picking daisy-heads from the lawn at a half-penny 1 hundred. This was something like the tribute )f wolves' heads that royal Edgar instituted. Do f-OU remember when, and upon what people, this ;ax was laid ? It served two purposes, it ridded the kingdom of a scourge, and enriched those by whom it was paid. So with our daisy work. But now-a-days the lawn-mowers take all the heads off the lawn daisies so cleverly that you do not get the chance of picking them. Suppose we pluck one out of the many that are growing all about us, and examine it closely. A common thing to make a talk about, but common things tell us most about Him who made us and them. At this hour all the snow-white petals (which I dare say you call leaves) are carefully folded inwards over the golden tufts of florets that form the centre. Did you ever look closely at a daisy, and notice how wonderfully it is made? If you never have done so, I should advise you to do so now while I am talking to you. It is a curious thing how this little flower shuts up all its pretty pink-tipped leaves when night comes and not only at night, but before a storm also. How does it know when a storm is coming? Well, that I cannot tell you that is a little bit of the great wisdom we cannot fully understand here. The wisest man that ever lived could not tell you. You may see that it is true for yourselves if you like. I have seen a meadow glimmering white with thousands of daises in the mid-day sunshine, and, a little while after, clouds sweep up over the sun, the storm winds rise, and then when I looked again I could not have told that there was a single daisy in the meadow all the petals were closely folded down over the golden eyes to protect them. There was an old poet once, called Geoffrey Chaucer, who loved the daisies so dearly that he used to get up in the grey morning light to see ;hem gradually unfold their white leaves'; and at vening he would kneel beside them on the grass ;0 watch them cover up their golden eyes. Don't f-OU think it a beautiful picture ? I must confess ;hat I do. The wise old man, who had read books .ipon books, and written lots of grand poetry, on lis knees beside a little daisy, learning from that ;0 lift his heart to the Maker of flowers and men, le called it the dais-eve, or the eye of da7, and ¡ tang about it so sweetly that the fclsy is "called Chaucer's flower. Many poets have had chortling thoughts about t iaisies, and somew^ 1: have read this lmty I Ittle legend. A tuing is said to be legendary when it is <_i'' y tn;e in fancy, not in fact; true in Tat not absolutely so in incident. LEGEND OF THE DAISY. Once upon a time in the long, long, long ago, the daisies were all stars shining up above in the blue sky. They were not satisfied to be only stars, they wanted to be something bigger and brighter. I am not sure whether they did not as- pire to be the sun itself, certainly they wanted at least to be the moon. So the same thing happened to the daisies that happens to most people who try to be what God does not want them to be, they tumbled out of the sky altogether, down to the earth, and they took root and grew as flowers. But they never forgot that they had once been stars. All through the long, bright sunny days they stared straight up into the blue heavens with their golden eyes wondering how they could get back again. And when the sky was covered with clouds, or the dark night came, they covered up their starry eyes sadly, for it seemed to them that they could never, never again shine brightly over-head that although they pointed out the way to other people, they could never find it for themselves. Can you pick out what is-true in this story; and what makes it a legend ? For fear that you cannot I will tell you. The truth is this—that we should never try never even wish to be other than God has made us. Of course, the daisies never were stars really, but they look so like them sometimes that some poet fancied they might have been, and this makes it a legend. A writer, who is a poet too, 01 our own day, had also some quaint fancies about daisies and other flowers. He pretends or imagines that he can see fairies in all flowers, and that these Bower fairies are very much like the flowers them- selves in mahy things. He says, The flowers seem a sort of house for them, or outer bodies, which they can put on or off when the please. Just as you could form some idea of the nature of a man from the kind of house he built if he followed his own taste, so you could, without see- ing the fairies, tell what any one of them is like by looking at the flower till you feel that you un- derstand it." And this is how he describes the fairy of the ùaisy-" A little, chubby, round-eyed child, with such innocent trust in his look! Even the most mischevious of the fairies would not tease him, although he did not belong to their sect at all, but was quite a little country bumpkin. He wandered about alone, and looked at every- thing, with his hands in his little pockets, and a white night-cap on the darling. He was not so beautiful as many wild flowers I saw afterwards, but so dear and loving were his looks and little confident ways. In France the daisy is called Marguerite, and a girl professes to tell whether or no her sweetheart loves her by pulling of the leaves one by one, say- ing as she plucks them. "Il m'ainie un pen, pat- Ù)11(!mel/t, pas dv tant." In England we should say, He loves me a little passionately not at ail." In Germany they have a longer string of questions, and in Switzerland it is different still. This is a pretty pastime, and one with which you may all amuse yourselves as you sit to rest under the shade of the trees in the meadows some hot summer's day. You need not only try whether some little friend or schoolmate loves you, but you can say, Shall I be rich when I am a man?" and then pluck the leaves to-" Yes—No—Yes— No," &c. You may ask and answer all sorts of funny questions in this way. Only be sure to remember that this is a game, and do not trust to answers that you get by chance. I could tell you many more interesting things about the daisy, hut perhaps I have said enongh for the present, as I am anxious to explain to you what acrostics are, and set you one to guess before I say goodbye till next week. An acrostic is a kind of puzzle that has been very popular amongst both old and young people of late years almost every magazine that is lJUbli8hed now contains some. They may be mad very simple, or immensely difficult, for very clever people some- time employ themselves in making and guessing them. Suppose I want to make an aci e.>tic upon the OaÙJU. I set down the^RFE LETTERS thai;, spe-ll ( it underneath each other in a. line, then find five words that begin with these several letters, thus 1. D iamond. 2. A-ppie. 3. I-nk. 4-. S-aturd!J.,v. 5. Y'-ew, These hv. words are tie, Bllt "hell I want to pu>e you, I describe those Unkis without mentioning the words. I say 1. A precious stone. 2. A fruit. 3. Used to write with. 4. One of the days of the week. 5. A tree. My primals (first letters) give a flower. To guess the acrostic you must first find out the lights, then take the first letters of these lights to get the answer. Now try and guess the fol- lowing, and I will give you the answer next week. (Lights) 1. A song-bird. 2. Part of your body. 3. What the bells do. 4. A domestic pet. Primal- nnne an English song-bird. AUNT MAGGIE.

Y GOLOFN GYMREIG Dymunir i'n pohebwyr G ymreig gyfeirio eu goheb- iaethau, liyfrau i'w liadolygu, &c., fel y canlyn: —DaJydd Morganwg. Hirwain, Aberdare."

AT EIN GOHEBWYR. Y mae n anhawdd gwybod pa fodd i ddechreu yr wythnos hon, oblegyd daeth liwyth pedrolfen yn agos gyda eu giiydd, ac y mae enwau yr awdwyr yn ddigon o warant am eu teilyngdod. j Y mae Cariad a "Hedàwch" yn dyfod o'n j blaen yn mlaenaf; ac y mae y rhai hyn yn ad daw < yn dda am y lleill. Yn nesaf, dyma "Gusan. Beth all fod yn fwy naturioi i ganlyn cariad a 3 heddwch? "Y G olomen.Dyma unheddychol dros ben eto. Y Fesen."—Rhyw newid yr ymadrodd, a newid enw yw hyn—llinell bert yw yr olaf—" Hi ddeora ar dderwen." Y Deryn Du.—Dyma englyn o'r hen style. Yr Ehedydd."—Y mae'r lime.ll olaf fel y tueddu trespasu tros y ffin. Lot."—Gocheled awdwr hwn rhag i'w fis gael ei osqd yn y tan poeth, am agos rhegu. "Y Ganwyll. —Haha Pwy iucidies gyneu y ganwyll hon, er na cidaetn yn direct o Ganwylldy Heol y Felin. "Yr Hen Fab."—Dyma fe boo tipyn. "Y Wybren."—Pert, frawd-pert. Ho ho J "Dyma Hen Fab" arall. Mae hyn yn galw i gof y chwedl am yr hen bregethwr hwnw a arferai ddweyd—" Yr hen lanciau drosodd drachefn," wrth ddarllen Dan. 3. Dim."—Y mae hwn yn dda, ond y mae Gwdderig wedi curo'r byd ar ddim, yn englyn yr Hen Hosan." Barnwch chwi os nad yw :— "Hen hosan, a'i choes yn eisie'—ai brig Heb erioed ei ddechre A'i throed heb bwyth o'r ede'— Hyny yw Dim, onide ?" Yr Awen."—Da iawn, Hywel. Yr Hunllef.—Y mae hwn fel yr hunllef ei hun, yn ddigon a pheri i ddyn waeddi wbwb wrth ei ddarllen. "Uwch ben Maelfa.'—Yn wir, frawd, ambell faelfa sydd yn deilwng o hwn. "Y Veil."—Y mae'r awdwr yn sicr o fodyn agos i lygad ei Ie, wrth ddesgrifio y clwtyn hwn. "Yr Hen Ferch."—Paham na fuasai hon yn ceisio gwneyd bargen ag un o'r ddau hen Fab y soniwyd am danynt? Dichon y deuant i dernis rhywdro. Yr Epa."—Trueni fod y llinell gyntaf, yn enwedig ei dau ben, dipyn yn llwyd gan henaint. "Diareb."—Llawer mewn ychydig, fel Diareb ei hun. "Y Ddafad."—Desgrifiad manwl a da. U Dod yn ddiweddar i'r Capel."—Cynghor rhagorol, a rheswm da drosto. Cysgu yn y Cwrdd. "—Yn wir, arferiad drwg gd^rw; ond y mae eisiau muff yn y pregethau "Y Penadur."—Y mae hwn yn werth punt rhwng dau leidr. "Jonah yn mol y morfil."—Druan o'r hen brophwyd—y mae'n achwyn yn dost. Daiarfochyn,"—Desgrifiad glew iawn. Y Rhagrithiwr.Gwyn fyd pe darllenai pob rhagrithiwr y rhai hyn, er iddo weled darlun cywir ó hono ei hun. Menyw."—Cynghorem yr Awdwr i geisio staff o Bobies i'w amddiffyn arol ymddangosiad y darn hwn. Rhian Bert. "-Chware teg i'r bardd, y mae hwn yn ddigon 0 iawn dros y flail, hyd yn nod i'r menywod. Y Dyn Iach."—Dyna yw hwn. "BerfaDrol."—Mae hon yn un dwt a chryno iawn. "Y Fynwent.Gallem feddwl ein bod ynddi wrth ddarllen y darluniad cywir hwn. I "Iechyd."—le, ond buasai afiechyd yn llawn mor briodol penawd. Y mae hwn yn dda iawn. "Einioes."—Da iawn eto. Dyma ni i'r "Fynwent" eto. Dyma ddull y byd—o Einioes i Angeu, ac oddiyno i'r Fynwent. "Adre' i Farw."—le, er mai mab ieuangc ydyw, y mae yntau yn myned i'r Fynwent i orphwys. "Y Wlad Well."—Y mae yn goleuo yn awr. Y mae goleuni y tu draw i'r bedd. Dyna res o ddarnau yn werth eu cyhoeddi yn Uyfryn gyda'u giiydd. "Yr Eisteddfod."—Penillion addas i fiwsig yw y rhai hyn. Trugaredd."—Gwelliant ar y bryddest hon fyddai gadael darn allan-o Pe bae Trugaredd," &c., hyd "Fe'i ceidw dan amddiffyn Kef," &c. A foddlona'r awdwr i hyn ? Bwbach y Brain."—Dyma dymhor teyrnasiad hwn, felly y mae yn amserol. "Anerchiad i Dafydd Morgan Jones."—W2t byth i'r anerchiadau yma, er eystal ydynt. Y Tafarnwr."—Y mae hwn yn dduchanus i'r eithaf. Beddargraff Cenfigen."—Beth ? a ydych gladdu y feiden yn fyw? Os ydyoh, da chwi gosodwch hi wyneb i waered. Yr wyf yn ofni y cewch chwi ddigon 0 amser i gyfansoddi awdl cyn y trenga. hi. Y Bore."—le—good morning. "YFory."—Y mae'r pennill cyntaf y goraf a wnaethoch erioed, yn 01 ein barn ni. Gem yw'r I burned linell. Gwyn y gwel y Fran ei Chyw."—Y mae'r hen ddiarebion yn destynau rhagorol, ac y mae yn y llinellau hyn wirionedd y gellir ei deimlo. Afon y Bywyd."—Celfydd a chymeradwy. Y Llosgfynydd.—Y mae hwn yr. boeth ofn- adwy tua'r diwedd. Y Nos."—Darn yn Gyrrwys Uawer o farddon- iaeth dyner, mewn U^ysgrif hynod gymeradwy. Arthur Woodwell Rees."—Yn ei dro. Cyng- li an eddied cryf a gwych. (Yr ydym yn ail-argraffu y gan i Llinos Cenydd oherwydd anhap a achosodd i rhai o'r llinellau i fod yn anweledig yr wythnos ddiweddaf.—Ap R.)

YR ANGEL. Yn rgwawl ferth, diengol fod—yw efe, Penaf was y Duwdod Ei geinwych wenwisg hynod, A'i wen giaer, dywyna'i glod. Sirhowy. GwENTWYSON.

YR AGERDD. Y chwilgar fryd uchelgais, Drwy ei eon, gyson gais A'i nerthol aidd wna wrthiau lu, Er i bechod ei grebachu: Rhydd brawf o fawredd a bri Yr enaid a'i fawr yni Mewn niwl er hyn mae'n nelu, Dro maith cyn gwneud campwaith cu; A'i waith saif i berffaith son, Am daer awchus ymdrechion. Allwedd i borth llwydd y byd, Yw dyfal astud hefyd Ac yn addfwyn weis gweinyddfawr, Fe wna hwn hyf elfenau'n awr. Yn raddol ar fron gwareiddiad—y gelf Gain agora'i llygad Er ein lies cawn riniau llad, Ei blagur mewn dadblygiad. A thyfa gwyddoniaeth hefyd—yn wych lawn wrth ochr celiyddyd Cyfrinion gan hon o hyd—gawn er llwydd, Dysg i'n afrwydd dasgau yn hyfryd. Ein masnach yn gwan hepian oedd, Y n iael mewn evnoesoedd Ac hon ni allai gwnu, j I'w hoff lwydd cyn magu'i phlu. Diffyg cyflym rym mawr oedd, Blin eisiau y blaenoesoedd A wnai hoff dasgau'n eon, A dewr waith ar dir a thon I mlaen i weled, Mor o wir lwydd mawr ar led. Yu ein tud ni feddai'n tadau, r Enfawr werth wnai firain wyrthiau, Yn gyffelyb i geffylau, Hoenus oeddent eu swyddau. Tramwy certwyni irymion—•wrtbya^ Hyd iwybrau serth ceimion, Wnelent, a darnient don. Yn rhychiau mewn ymdrechion. Pall ydoedd y gwraith .p,mydiol-idrlynt; Yn chwyddo'n anferthol; A llwythi ami llethol—clywid weithian Duchan a gruddian y gweision greddfoL Eto o wych rym at waith Fc elwid am fwy filwaith Am nwyddau trymion oeddynt 0 wydd byd, dan gwrlid gw'ynt. Haiarn a glo pur ein gwlad Er elw daeth mawr alwad, A cliodi'i phen gan wenu 'N wych ei gwedd wnai masnach gu; Ymagor wnai dor y dydd, O'i blaen cai drem ysbienydd; Gii,elai "i siriol hud'ol haf," A gwen wiw ar gynhauaf. ■v-11 je? Syfn°d 'iw"n gwnaed da gafnaa 1 n y daaearen, ac ami ddorau A thramwy'n hawddach a thrymion nwydcUBfc1* A mwj- iiwylusiant wnaed drwy gamlasau, A r clwfr heo orphwys gariai fawr bwysau. i. n ei wal ddyfnaf, grulaf. o-u-Hlia. Ar ei war heb baid a'i gwvr a'r badau, Ac rw notf hwylio caed help csffvlou, n adnewyddol am ein hadnoddau riant' Rnw-ydd agor wnai masnach-ddorau—11 wwM- Er rhoi hwylusiant—budd i'r oloesau. ChwydSo tra'n rbwyfo afon-a nertb Dyn i hwylio'n eon Trafnidiaeth a aeth weithion Yn gryf, ac yn hyf fel hon. Enillodd newydd allu Ar- ei thaith i droi o'i thu 1 lion i deg weini daeth Gv-. eis unol mewn gwasanaeth Heinyf oedd fel meinwen fad, Ar deg wawr y diwygind A r hynotaf rin eto, 'deuai o'r glan ddwr a glo dd yn nerth oedd yn ol i r agerdd chwiin mawrygol, Ac wele'r grymusder maith, Pur rin fri peirianwaifch TnraetJia dyn byth werth y da o gain orehest gynyrcha. J11 rym i raddau'n Ngroeg oieu we; vvyd, Eithr.i w- wyddor pryd hwnw ni threiddiwy(| Am ei dda elw ychwaith nis meddvliwyd, Ond er ei gyrhaedd y dor agorwyd At hwn mewn oloesau doniau dynwyd, A i elf enau cudd, a'i fudd ganfyddwyd Ac yn ei swydd wedy'n y cain was ddodwyi^ A 1 ddiail yni i'n gwydd ddilenwyd Em Hynys at waith ddiliunwyd—-drwy eirife A bywyd aiflin drwy r Dyd a daflwyd. Enw Watt serena eto,—y prif Un wnai'r prawf ohono; Llaw hwn fu yn cynllunio—'n odidog I'w droi yn s wyd dog dewr, hoenus iddo. 'E aeth aeth amser maith i ymson—ar hwa Cyn rhoi gwisg am Samson Ei fawrion mewn myfyrion—ddilenwyd, Ac a goronwyd mewn teg gywreinion. Yn anterth ei nerth a'i nod,—yn ei ddydd Ni chadd ei g-anfod; Bendith agerdcf mewn babandod Iddo yn da! ydoedd yn dod. Ager fu nod hygar fywvd—dyfal Ein Stephenson hefyd Gwelai fodd drwy'i gelfyddyd—i droi ca. I rawd enillfawr. i droedio'n hollfyd. Ac wele'r dyfeisiwr, gwr rhagorol, Dan odiaeth benaeth rodd draed buanol, A thra byddo y gweithiwr buddiol Yn anadl heini peiriant olwynol, Sai' enw'r gwr yn swynol—fel seren der, x n ei ■wych loewder yn anfachludol. Ei hynod daith ar wisg deithiol—agerdd Sy'n brawf teg. rhyfeddol, '0 0 nerth bryd oedd yn wyrthiol-yn gweiai Y It ei bur yni mewn swydd beirianol. Y newydd allu yn hoew—oedd yn Llawn o chwydd a berw Lli' o yniant, sef blaen llanw,—grym m Ddewr fwriau eihvaith i'n dirfawr elw. A chan ei fod ar gychwyniad—yn gryf, T' Yn lion greu adfywiad Ni ddeall un gynydd llad-ei olfri, Wrth ddileni ei nerth a'i ddylanwad. Gwedi gun wregysu'n gaeth, Rhoes hwn ei bur wasanaeth; A neshau i'w wydd yn swil, Heddyw fel baban e'iddil, hwn fu'n bena'i rym, Yn gweini fel gwas genym. Ond arch-was yw'n gwneud erch SWD A'i enau fel ag anwn Ac mal eonfawr gawr gwyllt, Yn ei agwedd ffyrnigwyllt, Yn frwd mae'i gynhyrfus fron, Fel yn llawn o hyf alon; A gloes o'i esgeulusaw, A sydyn ddychryn a ddaw, Pan fyddo'n darnio mewn dig Haiarnaidd wisg yn ffyrnig. Ca'dd ef wisg gref yn ei grvd, o fuddiol law celfy'ddyd A rhagorach glog i'r gwron, o riniau hardd yn awr wna hon,— -> Edrvcb am ei wrhvdri- Dwyn ei nerth a'i dawn wna hi; A'n cawr hyf hoff yn cryfnau Yn ei gedyrn wasgodau Gorchestion ein Samson sydd A'i glod yn synu gwledydd. Y mae'r difeth beth byw weithion—yn cliwytO A chwai droi'r olwynion, Ar ei sedd dyd yr oes hon,—a hi ga Ei gwyn gynaua' drwy'i gain egnion. Mae iawn elfenau dymunol fwyniant Yn hoff wenu yn hwn er ein if yniant, Ac anifeiliaid teg, heini folant, Am Iwys obaith o gael melus seibiant; In eu hanafal ryddid mewn nwyfiant, Jubili o head rhyfedd a brofant Mae'r gwaith mawr ei bwys oil a'i orphwysant Ar y mawreddog gawr am hyrwyddiant Dyma weithiwr heb nod methiant.-mae Ei allu a'i ferw megis llifeiriant. [llanw Heb ei rin, byddai n meithion beirianau Yn anghynes a diles fel delwau, Yn ddiwasanaeth ac yn ddiseiniau, A rhydlyd o hyd byddai "u haelodau Agerdd wi hoen yw anadl eu ffroenau, A berw hwn yw y grym sy'n eu bronau A'i allu ar unwaith yn eu holl ranau, Yn hynod gywrain i wneud eu gorau Chwai rede& gylchdroadau—-mae pob olwya Yn hyrwydd ac addfwyn wrth ei bur ddeddfau. Ac anhawdd rhoi rhif ac enwau-vr oil Res o'r gwych beirianau, Gan Agerdd glan sy'n mhob manau—ar fa's Y n heirdd weis addas mewn myrdd o swydd8ll;" Er bod crotliau creigiau crog Ein gwlad yn dra goludog, A'n budd yn anhysbyddol 0 dan bob"mynydd a dol; Eto vr oedd dan v trwch, 0*r golwg mewn dirgelwch, Yn llechu, heb neb yn mwynhau Hufen doraeth dyfnderau, Ives anturio'n eon ar Ddiwyd dyllau y ddaear, At y drud olud helaeth Oedd is ar, mewn carchar caeth. A'r Ager, uwch y dvnfnderau,— a wnai Yn hyf ryfeddodau Ac o lawnion galonau—ein creig frid I glawr y mynid y glo a'r mwnau. I iselle at oesol log, Boreu y dydd gwyr ewybr da Yn Uengoedd i lawr ollynga, I dir na 'nabu 'deryn Olwg hardd yr haul gwyn, Er hoenus rwygo'r haenau- Hen oludoedd celloedd cau A'u hwylio yn chwyrn eilwaith I'r man y mae ager maith Yn hyf roi ei hiraf fraich, A'i erfawr rnn am fawr faich, I'w ddirwyn ef yn ddewraidd Yn y brys mewn eiliad braidd, O'i wal i hyfryd olau, Haul a'i swyn i'n mawr leshau; Ac ar win mewn awch aibali, Un llwyth sy'n dilyn y llall; Nid yw mawr ddyfnder ond man I hwn ollwng hoen alJan. Ac adrodd am ddigydradd waith A wna heb orphwys yn berffaith. Dibvnu ar y da benaoth—a'i aidd, Wna'r hyf lowr odiaeth, Er hwylio'i lafur helaeth-o dad len Ar dirfion aden vr lioew drafnidaeth. (I barhau.)

THE NEW SEAHAM COLLIERY EXPLORATIONS. Operations are now going on at the New Sea- ham Colliery which cannot fail to attract general attention throughout the scientific world. A com- mencement has been made in the work of re- opening the Maudlin seam, after that portion of the colliery has lain for nine long months—we cannot sa) in the silence of death, although it has retained the corpses of 28 victims of the dreadful catastrophe of September last—but subject to the unrestrained play of those dread forces of nature which were so terribly manifested in tht. explosion. This circumstance would alone suffice^ to invest the operations with a powerful degree of interBSt. But the work is attended by another feature of even greater moment, and that recall? the memory of the venturous trials which G eorgt Stephenson made in Killingworth Colliery of th« safety lamp, which has since proved the means of preventing innumerable explo- sions of firedamp in the course of the miners' perilous work. It is some time since Mr Fleuss proved the efficacy of the appa- ratus called by his r ime for sustaining animal life under water, but we believe that the practical trial to which it is now being subjected at New Seaham is the first occasion of its being applied on a large scale to the purpose of supporting life in an atmosphere of noxious gases. The apparatus may be briefly described as an ingenious arrangement whereby a person immersed in water or gas is supplied on the self-containing principle with at much oxygen as is requisite to sustain the vital functions. In an ordinary diving dress a person is made to literally depend foi his life on air being: Bent down to him through a tube, the severance or interruption of which would be attended with fatal consequences. In the apparatus of Mr Fleuss, hovrever, the necesary air is obtained not from the upper atmosphere, but from a store contained within the apparatus itself. The principle of this storage, it is easy to see, involves possibilities of the most startling magnitude, and applications of most varied kinds, hence the keenness with which the present operations at Kew Seaham Colliery will be watched throughout the kingdom. Oa Monday men employed in explorations had ad- vanced within about one thousand yards to where it is supposed the remainder of the dead bodies will be found, with the aid of the apparatus men- tioned above. The men can work as easily as though they were in the best current of pure air possible. The Fleuss lamp, another wonderful invention, is also being used. This ingeniously- contrived instrument, which is a modification of the lime light, can be carried to parts of the pit filled with bad gas without the least danger; whereas the ordinary mining lamps would either be extinguished or explode the gas. It is antici- pated that some important testimony as to the cause of the explosion will be ascertained durinff the present explorations.

ENGLYNION I'R TAXWR TANDDAEROL. I (Buddugol yn eisteddfod Pisgah, Pill, Dydd Calan, 1830.) Hoff, a enwog ddiffynwr-y glowyr i Glew, yw'r tanddifiodwr; A chywrain wych awvrwr Llwybrau,r gwyll obry 'yw'r gwr. Un mawr ei fudd, yn mlierfddion—da-ear, Diwyd wYliwr nwyon Anhefelydd ofalon—a ddengys E o fewn dyrus ogofau'n dewricn. CYNFFIGWYSON.

LLIKOS CENYDD, CAERFFILI. (Ton—"Y Gwenith Gwyn.") O Llinos Cenydd, hawddgar, Ion, Llawn o brydferthion ydyw Ei swvnol lais, fel arian glych, Ddadseinia'r entrych heddyw; Ei chlodydd aeth ar led trwy'r wlad, Brwd siarad Sydd am dani; nÎarwol yw, medd uchellef Henafol dref Caerffili. Ein Llinos hoff yn llenwi sydd Gyngherddau'r dydd drwy'i thalent, Ac Yn gwefreiddio pawb a'I clyw O'i diluw—hwy hadlonent 0 enau hon y dawnsia can i Ysbrydol gvnghan odlau, A ch erfia ar bob mocsol fod Deilyngdod ei thalentau. Hawddamor iti'r Linos lan, Yn ngwlad y gan uchelfri, Mae llwybrau clod o'th flaen heb OS— Ti ddeui'n Llinos Cymru. I ofal lor rho di dy hun, A glyn wrth orsedd Celi; Dan fenditli Duw ti ddoi'n ddiffael, Yn ail i Madame Patey. Groeswen. Er HEDJTTGTDD.