The Cardiff Times

CHAPTER XXIV. The Meeting in the Church. Gaaton knew nothing of Beatrice's arrival in Verona, and those who guarded him in the old house by the Duomo were at some pains to keep the information from him. He had received an ugly wound in the shoulder and had lost much blood, but a healthy youth remained to him, andhequickly began to rally and toreward Bianca for her devoted vigilance. Day by day, she entered his room to find him more wakeful at her coming, and readier to listen to her gossip and her wit. If their was no further refer- ence upon her part to that unwomanly declara- tion which passion had won from her, she be- traved herself in a hundred ways which minia- to the patient's comfort, and could not bat find him grateful. As to the old Bureeon Felippe, be appeared to pass his life in the corner by the ttove, when ho would emerge to utter various pious platitudes, and to explain what he would have done if fever had appeared. Hia cryptic proposals made to Gastou on the eve of first day were not repeated. He sat dumb in the path of the fitful light, holding his pbiaia to the droning blaze, but administering drugs to none. The days passed slowly enough for Gaston though all too quickly for the devoted Bianca. The Count slept butlittle daring the first week of bis doleful captivity, and in the silent watches of i the night lie would recall the old days in Venice, Ahe brilliant hours of fete and carnival, love Upon the waters, and peril in the house. He temembored bow be had first seen Beatrice ia the chapel of the Cathedral, his admiration of I her beauty, and theawf which attended her intel- lectual gifts. He did not love her then—he snew thac now, but she had taught him the sweetest lesson of his life and he could imagine no future which did not concern her. In Bianca's ) bouse be did not dare to ask news, if Beatrice i had come to Verona, but his anxiety grew upon him day by day. and as his strength returned his resolution to depart grew stronger with it. Now < Bianca was quite aware of that which was pass- ing in her prisoner's mind, and she showered > upon him those lavish attentions which so please > the sick and are the true antidote to pain. There were roses in Gabon's room always, roses and j »weet perfumes and the fruit and the flowers he sweel. perfumes and the fruit and the flowers he loved. An open casement to which his bed was r drawn, allowed him a glimpse of the narrow I street below with the odd figures of citizen and peasant and of the soldiers of France. Over the ¡ red roofs there was a vista of hill and valley, And sleepy hamlets, and the winding river dream- In the sunshine. Gaston passed long hours by j this window listening to Bianca as she read to him the old foik tatea and the gallant stories of mediaQval Italy, and it his years caugLl a few if bar words it was because the spirit of the Narrative awakened in him bitter thoughts, and he would reflect apou his own humiliation, the j Jorry figare be had cut in his first essay and all that his resumption of the soldier's life must cost > him. Buonaparte he feared, would never trust him again. Such a. man never condoned a failure. He, Gaston, must lay down his command, and go back to France a discredited man. He asked 1 himself if Beatrice would follow'him thither. He believed that she wonld, and he rebelled against the necessity of asking ber to share an against the necessity of asking her to share an exile so discreditable. It might have been very 1. different had fate been a little kind to him. They were reading Don Quixote to-day for their library had bat a score of books all told. and the gentle Bianca, her black hair tossed back in raven looks from her snow-white forehead, sat upon a low stool, and rested her chin upon the counterpane of the bed. Old Felippe, meanwhile, droused in his favonrite corner, not in any way grateful j for the warm sunshine or the breath of the spring wafted down from the verdant hills, j The hum of voices in the street without, distant j inusic in as cafe, the still air, the kindly day, fostered that dreamy air with which the girl road and the man listened to her silwery voice. She ¡. "as reciting the faidle of Basilim, who married Quinteria for his sonl's sake," and pleased by the narrative, she pursued it eagerly nntil tbe )Qn was declared and tbe sick man made whole love. Then, fox a little while, she rested, sckobaerving Gaston's distraction, she chlded for it. V Why should I read to you, Coant, when you not IjL-en ? 1.'J1e Count started up from his reverie, and I her with coofasion. Why do you say that I am not listening, Blgnonna f Because your eyea are closed," she per-, slated- You do not even know what I am reading about." pardon me, it is the story of a very foolish fellow, who bo little understood love that he thought that it had to do with his soul's health. And haa it not ?" she asked him eagerly., h Is there no sacrifice, then in love ?" "Absolutely none, signorina. We please onr- ttives with an indifference to consequences which is the cause of mnch of our unhappiness. Sacrifice should never be confused wth love, love does not exist when sacrifice is demanded, Friendship is something yerv different. The sacrifices to friendship are sacred. There is no one more conscious of them than myself just now." Bianca reflected noon it for a spell, resting her cam upon the pillow and looking almost straight Into Gaston's eyes. have forbidden you to thank me for any- I thing," she exclaimed, anticipating a newpro- testation of his gratitude. You know that it has given me happiness to have you base. Why do you make me speak of U., There is no sacrifice to friendship In my csse- no 1 do not believe in devoted Women and all that stuff I Woman's devotion is never logical. Ton came to me because you could not help it, and I nursed you because I wanted to. There a the bargain as I see it, and I don't deceive myself. You will not forget it all when you leave this house, and that's what you ought to do. I don't say that you will not think of me a little kindly but it must begin and end there. Something tells me Connt that we shall never meet again when you leave this bouse. I am just like one over whom a great misfortune is hanging, and I can do nothing to avert it. You are to go away to France, and I am to marry another man -yes, of course my father will in. sist upon that, and I shall not refuse. Then whereas the friendship ? Do you believe that a wife should have frjends ? I do not, and that is why they call me original.. No. I shall marry and dream away my life in Florence or Rome, and all this will be just the day that was. It i,3 better for us both." Tears glistened in her eyes, thougoher courage forbade weeping and Gaston, touched with the pity of it all, could Eay nothing to contradict or console her Yes, it were better so he thought. If, at oue time, his judgment had led^him to be- lieve that Bianca's devotion owed much to a more romantic fancy which time would dispel, he was now willing to concede to it something more womanly and touching. Ho understood tbat sbe loved him, as these Southerns love, with all the ardour and abandon of their race. And he knew I' that his honour demanded his departure from her house at the very first moment that such departure was pcsei ble. Do you expect your father's return soon. Signorina ? he askod her, desiring to avoid the more intimate confession I had expected to find him here on mv arrival from Bovoleta," he added truthfully. He is at Venice," Bianca said without in- he added truthfully. "HeisatVecice," Bianca said without ill- terest. I had a letter yesterday in which he i spoke of coming to-moriow or the next day. Let 11 ine be frank, Count I do not wish you to meet 101 father—not here. Yon will understand why, for you have known him in Venice." I understand it perfectly, Signorina your father does not love my countrymen. I am thrice Unfortunate in that.my duty compels me to op- pose him ao often. Bnt I am hoping mnch from titne-yes, I am asking myself as I lie here how 1 can serve you and your house when the day conies." A tlav which will give my country to Napoleon. sbe said with bitterness. Do you that Francis Pesaro will accept the help of any Frenchman on that day, Count ?" I do not dispair of it. Your father is too wise oignorina, to charge the individual with the deeds of the nation. If there shoald be an evil day for Venice, I will save him and his bouse-for bis oaughter'a sake." t Tho evil day has fallen already",she rejoined 'My father will never value fortune which came to him from his country's ills. No, Count, JTOO must not think'of us. If we have done our duty we can leave the rest to God." He did not contradict her, for ber words had awakened in him a train of thought more dis- loleting, even, than the avowal of her love. A *eek ago. he said, sbe had been willing to sell oiro her countrymen's secrets, to barter and traffic with them. for the gratification of a ro- mantic passion. Bat to-day sbe could speak of 'he Divine pleasure and of human sacrifice. Of 'he two minds, he named the latter for Bianca's °*a,And be began to understand how very greatly •he must have been tempted when she offered to ouetray her friends, and would have done so, at Word from him. His resolve to leave her honse gftw upon him hourly. Had his strength been ?och that he could have gone without assistance, would bave not had remained another day ot every attempt to rise from his bed bad been attended hitherto by giddiness and such alarrn- *°lfWeakne"9 tbal he was afraid to trust him- to k Ven vet • aB<* 80' s^ort °f appealing directly charity of Balland, be could imagine no hail It esc*pe. Against this course his pride re- ami ntoutly, nad he was quite frank about it kirn8"0'0 when Bianca had left ID Clor be,-aid, I must leave this house Th^ 6bp u rnaa ^ad been warming his bony jijera by the stove when Gaston spoke, and he looked up with a far from pleasant smile « *,h,B canning face. *°V he said, pray to the angels to wings, You know that it in impossible." I I do not see that it is impossible," rejoined the Count petulantly. Send to the Governor Balland with my compliments and eay that 1 | must see him." ] Old Felippe stretched ont his hands to the fire | again and let his head sag upon his breast, You speak like a, chiU," he rejoined. "Do you forget whose house this is ?" It is tbe house of Francis Pesaro, the Sena- tor. What then old man ?" Felippe continued— Yes, the honse of Fraitcis Pesaro, whose" servants so little understand their duty that they will open the gate to the soldier who is to win Verona for the French." His meaningwasquitoclear,althonghhe uttered the words without emotion. Pesaro's servants understood perfectly the value of the prisoner they had trapped. They abetted their mistre3s, Bianca, in her desire to keep him-and if the truth surprised Gaston very much. well, said old Felippe, a wiser man would have divined it sooner. Do you mean to tell me tbat I am not fres to come and go as I please ?" the Count asked i- angrily. Felippe agreed to that. As far as she is concerned,' be said enig- matically. the house and all that, is in it are yonrs but there are others, Coant, servants of my master. Ask them if they will let you go What do they gain then, bv keeping me ? "What do they gain? Does not yotrrranity i answer the question ? They gain the shrewdest head in Verona and they profit by its mistakes, Count. Such a man, they say, will not trip a second time." lia. f cried Gaston, then they prefer my friend, Balland ?" You have said it—they prefer your friend Balland." And they act at their discretion." No, at the discretion of their master, who will be with us to-morrow." I shall see him at once he is, really, a very foolish man." persisted Gaston. Consider my friends will crack his door like an egg-shell if I lift a finger-a word from this window to the first trooper who passed, and what then ? A child would be wiser." Felippe was on ihs feet at this, resenting the loud tones and quite ready with his alternative. Hush be cried raising his finger warningly. A word to the trooper, yes and so to your friend Balland- Will he listen to you ? You do not know men if you say so. No, my eon, we must find another way, we must open another door." He was speaking into Gaston's ear now, and his voice sank almost to a whisper. Give me your bond for a thousand ducats and I will set you free this night," be went on, his avarice flogging his tongue. Do not wait until Pesaro returns. Your life may be the price of that." Gaston answered without an instant's hesita- tion. I will give you the bond when you will." He slept that day a heavy sleep, aided thereto by FeliDpe's drugs. When be awoke, it seemed to him that much of his old strength had re- turned, and he realised that he had suffered not a little in the preceding days from the dotard's j studied procrastination. His bead was clearer now, and he raised himself in his bed without assistance, and was not afraid to stand alone. The darkness of the room, however, forbade any attempt to put his strength to the proof and although his heart beat high in the hope of free- dom, he did not, for the moment, dare any farther experiment. For that matter, some little reaction followed upon his haste, and he lay back ¡ upon the bed wearily speculating as to the mean- ing of old Felippe's promises, and wondering if they would be fulfilled. He had opened the casement above him when first he awoke, and now he tried to glean of the city's voice some tidings of the hour and of events. A patch of clear grey sky, gloriously mapped out by a myriad golden stars, seemed to exalt him and to lift him up as from some, valley of darkness to celestial freedom. He found himself indulging in a contempt for mere human limitations which contemplation of the Infinite never fails to provoke. Upon the other side,and warring against this ecstacy of the night were uncouth sounds from the street below, the tipsy songs of revellers turning oat of thexafes, tbe tramp of the guard upon its way to the gates, the note of a harp and a woman's voice, the silver They were now upon the roof of the church. I bells heralding the new day. These led him to carry his mind back to the day when he had entered Verona with such satisfaction and had believed thatconcitiation would save the city and its people. Nor would be admit that anything I had happened which should change that opinion. If his strength were given back to him, he believed that the wisdom of his idea must bring French and Veronese together ultimately in an allianco by which both Rhonld profit. What he fearec, was the indiscretions of passiou. let them be the brutalities of Balland or the mad anger of the mob rising in arms against an errant power which demanded to right to guide its destinies. Yes, he believed be could save Verona even yet if this ancient Felippe were as good as his word. There was not a sound in the house even for a aotdfer s ear and the rnsh-light usually placed bv the stove bad not been kindled to-night. Gaston remembered how that Felippe had spoken of a possible danger tohimaelf, not from Bianca's headstrong passion, but from the servants of Francis Pesaro, Buonaparte's strongest enemy in Venice. It was quite possible, he thought, that Pesaro a dependants would, wish to hold Napoleon s emissary a prisoner, at least until their master's return. But when he had said this, he was still at a loss, and found himself unable to indicate what advantage could accrne to them from such a clumsy proceeding. At the worst his confinement conld be but a mptter of days. Bianca. herself, did he appeal to her, would con- trive some scheme for his release and in any case, he could not imagine how the city was better served for having Balland for its Governor. Such matters perplexed him not a little and being almos convinced, that old Felippe was but a wo boaster, be determined to sleep again and wait for day. This be did for a full hour, and when next he awoke, there was a light in the room, and Felippe himself stood bv his bed. The Count could not see the old man's face, but be could hear his voice buzzing in bis ears like the rush of blood in the veins. Not a word if you value your life. Count Pesaro has returned and all is known. Obey me without question—the minutes are precious." Gaston raised himself cp in his bed and stared about him with sleepy eyes. It now appeared that the old doctor's face waa completely hidden by the folds of a heavy cloak which fell almost to the ground at his feet. A lantern, hidden toy the same veil was disclosed anon, and set down upon a' table near the stove, where its wan light showed pens. ink, and paper already prepared. Felippe I was no longer alone a youth, in the garb of a well-to-do-citizen, watched and waited upon him in faithfol docility and, in truth, Gaston bad never seen the old man so active. It was almost grotesque to watch him darrting from place to place, or measuring his dnigg, or listening for any sounds from the roonin below, and one might have said that he was like nothing so much as some weird figure of a painter's dreams called in the pilent hours to a dreadful task. His very activities witnessed the hidden danger he feared and he worked unceasingly as though the house below had been full of armed men whom one word wonld have summoned to the stairs-head. It was the woman, however, rather tbtn the man whom old Feiippe feared. "Drink," be said Pleasantly to Gaston, pre- ferring a long glass, which be bad first held up to the light like one who judges by colour, and not by the palate. You have need of all that 1 can do for yon." The Count drained the glass, and instantly became conscious of an abnormal exhilaration, a false sense of strength and vigour, such as he had experienced when firss waking from his long sleep. Yon are a magician 1 be exclaimed under bis breath vou give me wings Bnt I take payment for them tbe old man rejoined,. "Here is the bond Coant—when, yon signed it we will go." Gaston stood on. his feet for the. second time since he hod fallen in the doorway of the house. His head swam, the lantern's light danced beforo bis eyes, bat he WAS able, notwithstanding, to cross the room to the table and to sign the bond. II I walk like a clown on Scbiavoni," he said with a langh. "Well there is your bond, doctor." I will present it at the castle in throe day's [ time. There will be a new Governor then —eh ? Very well. But we ha/e no time to lose. Here Pietro,. help my Lord the Count to dress.1' And j-then, with a white face, and startled cry, he, Pietro; help my Lord the Count to dress." And j-then, with a white face, and startled cry, he, I muttered, Mother of God, what was that V The three listened, spell-bound and motionless" Someone moved.in the ho^se below. They heard a footfall on the stair very distinctly and omin- oualy, and they said that a man was coming up step by step to the room. The weird sound chained old Felippe to tbe spot as if by a link of steel. His head was thrown back, and bis stared from bis head, be seemed to be counting the &tep3 one by one, with mumbling lips, and sagging jaw. A louder alarm brought the sweat to his forehead. The man below/whoever he was had dropped something, and they heard it go clattering down as steel jangling upon a marble pavement. Then tbe footsteps ceased. There was no further alarm. I It was Pesaro's step cried the old man, breaking the silence at last. We do not wish to hear it twice Count. Please to dress. Pietro, help my lord." Pietro, help my lord." Excitement is often as eood a drug as any known to the physicians, and so the Count found it in these fleeting moments when peril hovered 60 near him. His first giddiness and distress were forgotten in that greater desire for liberty and the freedom of the streets, and he began to move aboat the room unconscions that ho had been so long its helpless prisoner. When he was dressed, Felippe covered the lantern with his cloak, and casting one quick glance behind him to be sure that nothing was forgotten, he bade the others follow, and they went, one by one, up a narrow flight of stairs which led to the roof of the house. This they gained without further alarm, but it was not until they were out upon the leads that they breathed a full breath and began to beliove in their achievement. Where now?" the Count asked, a little dubiously— he was not sure of Felippe even yet. Your ducats were easily earned old man. Set me on the ground and I will say that you aro the cleverest surgeon in Italy." He was strangely elated, the high place,'the twinkling lights in the streets belew, the cool fresh breezes from the hills, strength returning —here was food enough to nerve a man for any venture. That he had escaped Bianca's house was the lesser thing to bim. With freedom, his ambitions came back to him as npon a fresbet of hope and determination. Yes, he would surprise old Balland this very night. There should be no delay. Verona must learn at dawn the name ot its new Governor. He would re-win the right to command. Not a second time should they charge him with indiscretion or with compromise. He would teach these people a lesson which should remain with them to the end. Weil, hp thought, that this old surgeon knew nothing of his in- tention. Quack as he was, possibly cliarlatau, some spark of patriotism must lurk with him. And if it were fanned to a flame what then? Gaston's impatience responded to this new argu- ment, while old Felippe watched bim with half closed eyes. The way lies yonder, Count," the old man mumbled as he passed the lantern to the youth. Pass three houses and you are upon the roof of the church of St. Anastasia. The dcor of the campanile is open-l have so arranged it with the sacristan. This lad here will let you out by the weatern roreb. Go, and God be with yon." Then you are not accompanying me,Fehppe. My Lord, the race is for the young. You will find a coach at the church door--do not let them say that we delayed." He covered his head with bis cloafc and dis- appeared as he had come. If Gaston suspected treachery, suspicion would scarcely help hIm at such a time. He determined to follow the yootb a.nd to leave the rest to chance. You are the servant of Dr. Fohppe, nesatd to the lad as they went. The answer was— I am his son." t Then he has spoken of me to youi 1 letro The lad shook his head. My father is a silent man, Signore. Good, that is the man I like. Are you quite sure of your way Pietro 1" A child could find it, Signore, Look, here is the church. We bave but to step across this par- apet and we are upon its roof. We shall n«tf need the lantern much longer now. Please be care- ful—the steps are narrow. That house yonder, where the lights ate, has been given to the Mar- quise de San Remy, who arrived here a few days ago. They call it the Bernese Palace, Count." Gaston said not a word. He remained staring at the boose as though a spectre was at its doors. j(To be continued.)

DELUSIONS OF A BARONESS. Engaged to Mr Austen Chamberlain." Baroness F lorence Mary Fabien 0 Bereux, said to be a native of Trinidad, was brought up on remand at Westminster Police Court, on Saturday, charged with assaulting Miss Amanda Hartmann, daughter of the proprietor of the Harrington Hotel, South Kensington. It was fttated at the previous hearing that accused knocked down Miss Hartmann because a water colour painting of Mr Austen Chamberlain which had been detained with other effects owing to non- payment of her bill was not released to be exhibited at the lioyal Academy. Inspector Brazier now stated the water colour had been taken to the Royal Academy, but was not accep- ted. Accused, who belonged to a respectable family, suffered from delnsions and some time ago said she was about to marry Mr Austen Chamberlain, which was entirely imagination. There was some doubt as to her right to the title of Baroness, and she was kno.n aa Miss Fabien. Mr Cave, who; appeared for accused's family, presented a medical certificate to the effect that she suffered from delusions. He thought the hotel and cab bills would bo paid as defendant had a small income from her late grandfather a estate. Her uncle would be coming from Trinidad shortly. The magistrate said he would have accused examined by the divisional surgeon.

"THE PRIESTS AND THE PEOPLE" Councillor C. F. Sixsmith delivered a lecture to a large audience at Dinam Hall, Barry Dock, on Good Friday afternoon, on The Priests and the People." Mr R. F. Brent, ex-president of the Bricklayers Union, occupied the chair. The lecturer dealt with priestcraft not m its re- ligious so much as in its political attitude towards the rights of the people. After giving an historical survey of the origin, sin, and decay of priestcraft, the lecturer, who spoke for nearly an hocr, declared that priests were un. necessary since the great sacrifice on the Cross. At the present time pseudo priests in tbe Church of England simply sought temporal power over men by misleading them. Roman Catholics, on the other hand, bad a perfect right to call them- selves priests because they believed. in sacrifice, aod they had ay much right to their opinion as anyone. What wonld be thought of Roman Catholic priests who taught Protestant doctrines ? In the Protestant Church of Eng. land they had the spectacle of men teaching doctrines which had no existence in the Re- formed Chorch. Mrs Sixsmith contributed ex- ceUeot violin solos, and at the close Mr Gwjn Morris, C.C., proposed a vote of thanks to the lecturer, and this was seconded by Councillor WJPaterson, supported by Mr Fred Walls, and accorded with acclamation.

CARDIFF GUARDIANS. Dispensary Committee Report. At Saturday's meeting of tbe Cardiff Guar. dians, the report of the Dispensary Committee recommended that steps should be taken to fill the position of dispenser, rendered vacant bv tbe dismissal Of Mr W. B. Taylor. It had been suggested by the Cardiff and District Pharma- ceutical Association that medicines shonld be dispensed in each district by one or more local chemists, but the report did not recommend such a change. The report of the committee was approved by the board, except the question of salary, which was referred back for further con- sideration, Mr C, F. Sanders being of opinion that £80 a year was insufficient. The Rev. J. R. Buckley, one of the delegates to the Bridgend Conference on Vagrancy, briefly referred to the decision of the conference to ask for a Departmental inqniry on the subject.—Dr. T. Richards, medical officer of sthe North dis- trict. has nominated Dr. Tudor Thomas, of Penywauu-road, as his occasional substitute.

On Friday evening, while a little girl named Florence Mabel Williams, aged five, of 108, Dinas-road, Plasmarl, was playing on a waggou in a yard near her house tbe vehicle was set in j motion and ran over an iocHne. The child fell off- and the wheel? {meaed ev«fcer: tody, caosuig fatal injuries.

I Complete Story. i l THEMIDNIGHTCOACH. BY KATHERINE TYNAN. Author of A Red, Red Rose," The Honour- able Molly," The Dear Irish Girl," L| That Sweet Enemy," &c., &c. I was used to the eeriness of Eilmacsbogue j from my infancy, yet I never ceased to "be terri- I fied of it. How many nights I have pulled the j coverlet over my head so that I might not hear the woman's voice crying in the trees outside and if the house had been on fire I do not believe I shonld have descended the stairs after dark, lest ) I should meet Them coming up, or worse, bear therr silken skirts falling with a liquid sound like water as they came down the stairs, along the ghostly corridors behind me. But worst of all was I frightened of the car- riage that swings through the entrance gates at midnight all along the avenua, and draws up at our hall door. The person who sits in the carriage was murdered a hundred years ago in a. rising of the country-folk. And if I should see him, I know what 1 would see. His brains were blown out by a chance pistol. Sibbie Doran, my nurse, haa seen him often, and told me an about it. The coachman also drives with his head under his a.rm, and I have no wish to see that. It is bad enough to listen to the rattle of the wheels as it drives round to the stable-yard on some night of high wind. Besides if I looked I might see a hearse which comes for a death in our family. And that is the great- est. of for there are only my grandfather, Liord itilahandra, and my grandmother, Lady KIlshandra, and myself. Meave MacNeill, and we love each other dearly. I have no other tie on earth except with my cousin, Theobald Carew. and he was away in the wars fighting, and if the hearse should come for him it would be the worst of all, for he is alsomv Vu co.ute I am attached to the servants" and my pony and all creatures nnrnnnn on/T of Kilmacshogue, and to many features outside the walls, but my my grad mother and my Cousin ,tw u eTe are 'be three creatures on earth without whom I could not live. Ve were very poor at Kilmacshogue. Often my Imtndfather used to say that the Inck had gone with who was my uncle, and went if killing a friend in a duel, and no more had been heard of him. J?asLt^ son, and it was a cruel thing LiW, h4,ve left them in that way. an3 we co d hardly doubt that he was dead, though my g-randfatber would not believe it. nor would 5 e'.nor *^ose Doyle, the housekeeper, nor Branmgan, the butler, because Ihe banshee had ne ver cried for him. And I believe in his heart my grandfather also took comfort from that, would shake bis"handsome old head £ °wd5f, flew, over the follies of women tihh v e 118 ifngered the great bunch of seals tbat hnnff from his fob. I had been an orphan so early that I never fl *nd raother, though of the latter L, 0t-DR but whether it is of miffi!1 to my bedside in sickness as I know not, but think it in inf«M eD B0, since she was taken from me twiCy* know she had mild brov n eyes •na<*est lj«ht in them, and the fair cnrl ijd llpa' and a loUS neck aU^ soft water 80 much you may see in the hnnb i Dortrait Of her that bangs in tbe k °kroom, and my grandfather will have it that <ra^hara/4 fJ r 'a no memory at all, but nicture, which Sibbie ustd to KW^ J°0k UP°D f«>m mv earliast days. 2! ia buried in trees, and has as tv,8U » °w tbe earth as is above it. tatter days we lived in the storey above grouod rather than that below, because ?0or to burn the many wax candles below required for their illumination. flrJn 9°a8'Q Theobald and I were chil- ±ut»«f those downstairs rooms were some- XJ,31*"0'1* treasure-houses to us, with and «li l,9ra *»PDed in bolland bigs, ana ail the mirrors veiled, and the furniture »bl £ »i'a the gloom, th* fwI £ .Ll,ooc Kilmacshogue, yet till the time that Theobald went out to the wars tmlf't?1?!. Never was any old couple so ahanHre Lord and Lady Kil InnnpT childhood and our youth, and IS Qp under tb*ir emiles and ble3" sr.^vn very like each other, as I have h w ohl couples devotedly attached I They had rosy cheeks" as pink as ?h«m an ^with little fine veinings through ilTrJW1 th« rose-leaf had wrinkled. tbe Wnsst eyes, and the same, soft, kind, dreamy expression. They spoke to each other as though they were still yoang, he treating her like a lover, and she still wearing ^,C°rlne'u of the mistress. And they re- joiced when the ]ove aprang ap between me and Cousin Theobald as though they were young again and new iowera. Even the though of Uncle Luke had not (ower to sadden niy grandmother indeed, tbe hope of once again seeing him made so bright a flame in her life that I often thought she would die if it were extinguished. I know the old ser- vants kept his room exactly as though he might come at any time, and I remember the awed interest with which Theobald and leaving found Rose Doyle in high good-humonr one day, were perautted to gaze upon his flowered waistcoats, and silk coa.ts and breeches, and white silk stoclnngs and buckled shoes, and the fine yellow underiinen, all of which proved Uncle Lake to have been a prince of bucks in his day. indeed, all that time before Richard Darner came or the scene looks to me now like a fair, genUy-amiliog landscape by contrast with what followed. For suddenly tbe bolt was launched ir?™ the blue» and all that peace and love were before the breath of flame, and what deatrtrped B° b&PPT Was now 11,1 parched and fi ^,Feinetnber coming into the drawing-room and turning my grandfather and grandmother sitting stiffly-quite unlike their gracions, poute selves—entertaining Mr Ditmer and his Bon, who had come to live in a great house, Port- macsun Abbey, of the neighbourhood. We had beard of Mr Damer and his guineas, even at AQ3aC8bogne. He was an old yellow man, as as hia guineas, and he wore a bottle-green coat and small clothes, shining with much wear, ^d His expression was crafty. However, it was not so much him I minded as the youth who accompanied him, and whom he introduced as his son Richard, like myself. I felt his cold Oiack eyes upon me the minntc I entered, and burned with an odd feeling of fury and shame, as though someone had tried to do a wrong to the love between Theobald and myself And all the time I sat there, with my eyes down, looking at my mittened hands in my lap and the toes of my scarlet shoes, 1 waa conscious of that inso- lent gaze. It was something I had to endure io- the time to come, for the Damers, in spite of their cold welcome, came again a.nd again, and although Lord Kilshandra threatened tbat Brannigan should say Not at home to them, somehow that never came to pass, and the reason I pre- sently discovered. It was that Mr Tlamer had known Uncle Luke and had somfebow rendered him a service. The reason,.be sure, prevailed with my grandmother if it did with my grandfa.ther, and the end of it was that we had Dsmew, Darners, Darners, notb. iQg but Damers, and if they were not dining or sapping, or visiting at Kilmacshogue. then we were at Portmacsun, which was very fine, and crowded with tall footmen to the doors, and silver plates for our food, and all a-glitter with candles and torches, and I know not what fine doings. I think we all went unwillingly. When brannigan, who could be coachman at a pinch, mounted the box in a livery too big for him, and drove us to the Abbey, I had seen a look in the dear old rosy faces which said they were not happy. We met other company there—people thought only of Damer's gold, it seemed, and not at all of how he had won it-bot Lord and Eady Kilshandra seemed ever the principal guests, which «aB as it should be. But I have aeen my grandfather wince when it was Kil- shandra here and KiJshandra" there, and my grandmother would wear a bewildered look as though wondering to find herself in such Company As for me, Heaven help me, I never guessed at what was coming, northat young Richard Damer would force his suit upon me, knowing that 1 was already promised to my cousin Theobald. The blow ten on me, indeed, with a startling suddenness. One evening my grandfather had sopped alone at Mr Darner's houss. Neither my grandmother nor I had been bidden to tbe meal, and for that I think we were both grateful. We supped together in the little Oak Room, which was bright and pleasant with its tire of logs and its wax candles in sconces, and we were happy, though we missed LJrd Kilshanara'* company. It was quite midnight when he entered, and I know we both turned a little Dale when he heard the carriage drive to the door. for fear lest it should not be he, but the ghost. That was a fear that recurrea every midnipht, although, perhaps, because we had grown used to it, it did not greatly trouble our days. However, we heard the carriage stop and the great doable doors open and my grandfather's foot in the hall. Yet it had a wandering and un- certain sound, and when presently he opened the door of the Oak Room and stood on the threshold we saw that the rosea of hio dear old face were withered. He looked like a man stricken by a heavy blow. He came nearer, and looking up at him I saw thin films drawn over the bine of his eyes, such as I would die ten thousand deaths, rather than bring to eyes I loved. Lady Kilshandra stood up with a sound like a moan, and took bis hand to her breast for a second. Then they sat down side by side hold-: ing each other's old hands, aDd we carted for him to begin. He sat for a few seconds as though be could I not speaR. Then lie began a rambling tale of how uncle Luke's honour was in Mr Darner s bands, how he bad lost a great sum at cards to Sir Theophilus Hoare, how the next morning he had fought and lied and Mr Damer beld the I.O.U.'s, and they had not been paid, although Sir Theophilus Hoare's sisters had beggared themselves that their brother's name might go 'clean. He trembled piteously as he told the story and my grandmother's face became as she heard it as piteous as his, although sbe fought bard for courage, as I could see. And the end of it?" she said, when he had finished. "The end of it? said Lord Kllshrandra, is And the end of it?" she said, when be had finished. "The end of it?" said Lord Kllshrandra, is that he requires Maeve's hand in marriage for j' his sou." But yon told him," 1 cried out you. tol £ him that T was already plighted to my cousin." Lord Kilshandra's head fell on his breast. "I told him that," be replied, "and his an- swer was that the I.O.U s. should be made public." I looked from one old face to the other, and never have I seen such trouble and terror. If it were anything but honour," said my grandfather," I would bid him do his worst. If it were only property, though he stripped us bare. I offered to redeem the I.O. U's. I should do it if I had to sell the last stick in Kilmac- shocue. But he would not hear of it. )cour hand was the price of theLO.U's. and .failing that oir dead son will be dishonoured, and our name blackened for ever.' "Our dead son will be dishonoured," my grand- mother repeated, and I realise*? that at last she believed Luke was dead I stood up and went to the mantelshelf, and laid my forehead for an instant against tbe cold marble. Then I turned to the two who had always been so tender to me. DeM Heaven.' I cried, what is it YOIl want me to do." They looked at me helplessly, and I saw that their own trouble had made them forget mine. The entreaty in their eyes stabbed me like a knife. rihey had never refused me anything. And Theobald," I said what of Theobald." Theobald would sacrifice himself for the family honour," said Lord Kilshandra. ''You can marry me to Richard Damer," I said, but I had rather you thrust a knife in my heart." And then I tnrned and went out of the room. All that night I heard the woman cry in the trees outside, and was not sure if it was her or my own voice that 1 heard. I was distraught with trouble. I was sure of one thing, that I would not live after the shame of my marriage with Richard Darner. Perhaps Theobald would forgive me-and think of me as white once more, when I was only a poor dead girl, and he knew why I had done ít. As I bave said, the Damer's were not people to let the grass grow under their feet. Before the next day was over, I had Richard. Damer's ring on my finger and his kiss on my lips. And 11 do really believp that from that hour I began to die. After the first night of fierce struggle, I fought no more. I was like an animal led to tbeslaugb- ter-honse, incapable of resistance. My very soul was sick with tho shame of his caresses, and I think I was dying of that sickness. And it seemed that the more I shrank from this new lover of mine the more he desired me. He was one who liked the pleasure of the chase rather than the capture, and I have heard him swear that he would not give two pins for any woman, however beautifal, who was ready to fall into his arms. So the days turned round to my abhorred wed- ding day. I had stood up in my bridal gown of silken tissue, with my grandmother's old lace upon it, and seeing myself in a long mirror I was aware that I was not less beautiful for the fire tbat was consuming me, but rather more. I had sprung up very tall of late, and were unnaturally bright. There were flickering flames in mv cheeks which had used to be soft and pale. None but myself seemed to know that the fire was feeding upon my life bat I knew and was comforted. I should not long live as Richard Damer's wife. After I had worn the wedding gown, and he had beheld me in tt, and gloated over me. and hung me with pearls and diamonds, so that I was like an Eastern slave and noChrstian woman, be departed and left us together. We sat that evening in the little oak room, the same to which Lord Kilshandra bad brought the tale that had broken my heart. We sat clinging together and saying little. Once my grandfather tried to console me, saying that Richard Darner was a fine, generons, handsome lad of spirit,, unlike his father, and that many ladies would have welcomed his wooing. To which I said nothing. And remember, Maeve," he want on, that he knows nothing of his father's bargain. He is not to be blamed for his father's sins." For a second I had a wild design of telling my bridegroom and flinging myself on bis mercy, yet on second thoughts I relinquished it. He would not give me up now for anything; I was too sare of that, whatever he might have done earlier. You will never Jet cousin Theobald think j that I did it for anything bat for love of you, I iaid. Why, child/' cried my grandmother, any one woaid think that you were going to die ollr bonny Maeve c-. At that moment above tbe clashing of the wind in the trees outside, there came the roll of wheels j and the sound of horses' feet. And almost at I the same moment the great clock in the stable yard began to strike twelve. It is the ghost," said my grandmother ttrrn- ing pale. "It is the death.coach," I cried out in a I feverish exnltation and it comes for me. Perhaps I shall not live through to-morrow." I For you I" cried Lord Kilsbcandra Why you are young, child. It comes for me." 1 heard my grandmother groan. My grand- father had taken one of the silver candlesticks in his hand, and gone out to the great dark hall, whither we followed. I' "Whoever comes, he is welcome I" said my grandfather, holding the candle above bis head with one hand as he fumbled with the great bars of the door. Suddenly there was a grea.t knocking at the I door. The bars fell with a crash into their sockets. The door swung open and we saw the tall figure of a man between us, and the coach with its lit lamps. He stepped into the ball without a word. Then there was a cry from my grandmother. Luke, my boy, Luke. Down went the silver candlestick with a clatter on the floor of the hall; and then the big stranger lifted my grandmother in his arms aa though she had been R. child, and carried her back into the Oak Room, where he laid her tenderly on tbe conch. Then he tarned to Lord Kilshandra, who was trembling and cry- ing, as though all at once his-age bad found him out. Father,' he said. Lake, my boy," cried Lord Kilshrandra, clinging to him. Do JOU know what Damer says of you my boy ? That you lost a great sum at cards to Sir Theopbilus Hoare the night you shot him. He showed me the I-O.U's. I ought not to have believed him. Now that you are here I believe him no longer. Indeed, looking at Uncle Lnke, it was difficult to believe that he had ever done anything so dishonourable. Ah," he said with a flash of his white teeth. I shall flog Damer for a car and a liar. I paid the sum before we fought. Afterwards I lost the I.O.U.'a in my night and be or his fellows must have picked them up. I have poor Hoare's signed receipt for the money. I thought all these years I had killed him. and that I was better dead than be tried for killing my friend. I only heard lately that be bad diedof an old trouble of the spleen. 1 have been cruel to yon and my mother, but I never meant it. And I bave brought home money enough to fliag guineas with Damer himself. My grandmother was looking at him with eyes of adoration, as thoagh she could never look enoagh. You will leave us no more LaKe," she said. Why no mother he answered, never again. I would never have stayed away if I had not believed that my return would bring yon woise sorrow. I have been in strange lands. places where gold grows instead of grass, else I should not have gone ignorant so long." Yoa come in time, Luke," said Lord Kil. ahaadra, who was standing with his hand on his son's arm, looking so proud and pleased that it seemed has if 20 years had rolled away from his head. We would have married Maeve to Damer's son to-morrow to save yonr honour." Then Uncle Luke turned round and seemed to see me for the first time. What, little Maeve I "he cried. "She was a toddling child when last I saw tnr. Sbe shall never marry a son of Damer's. A better man shall marry her." She will not have to seek him," said Lord Kilshandra. She was promised to her cousin Theobald Carew, now at the wars. She is a good child, a good child. For the honour of our family she was ready to sacrifice herself.' She was too brave said Uncle Luke,a great softness and compassiou flooding bis face. "We shall have to bring the young man home from the wars to nurse her back to health." And indeed the fever which had been in my I veins had somewhat died out^and I felt weak and trembling. Then Uncle Luke put me on a chair, and fetched some wine and held it to my lips, and I fell asleep there after ? little while. I remember that the last thing I heard Uncfe Luke say was Tell menow Is Mary Sallenger still unwed." And I remembered, though with a noise of water in my ears to have heard that Miss Sal- lenger, our beautiful, pale neighbour at the Mount, bad remained nowed for Uncle Lake's sake. and I rejoiced weakly because at last she would be happy. ¡ After tbat I was ill. And when I came to my self, I was three months older, but the whole face of the world was changed for me. for my lover Theobald was by my side. And as soon as I was able to drive to chorch there was a doable wedding, my Uncle Lose marrying Miss Sallenger at the same time that I became Lady Carew.

FUNERAL Of MRS GABE, YSTRAD MYNACH MILL. I The funeral of Mrs Gabe, Ystrad Mynach Mill, took place on Thursday at Llanfabon, and being an old inhabitant, a very large number of relatives and friends attended. It may be men- tioned tbat her predecessors have occupied the above mill for some hundreds of years. The coffin, wbich was of solid oak with btass furni- ture. was supplied by Mr Lloyd, of Yatrad Mynach, and the hearse and carriages by Messrs Stone Brothers. Cardiff. Wreaths were sent by her children, also her sons-in-law, and her grand- children, and a. magnificent wreath was aisasent by Messrs Richards ftod Blosse, of tbe Ystrad Mynach and Lkvynmadog estates. Rev. J. Pampsaant Jones officiated at the house, and Rev. H. Thomas, vicar, a.t the chnrch. The pro- cession moved in the following order :—Hearse first carriage, containing Mr A- E. Richards (son), Mrs John Rees, Mrs B. Elston, Mrs John Lewis (daughters), Mrs A. E. Richaxds (daughter- in-law), Mr Thomas Williams, Mr Jobn Lewis (sons-in-law) second carriage. Mrs Meyrick, Mrs Edwards, Mrs Lewis, Miss Edwards (nieces), Mr T. Richards, Mr E. Lewis (nephew). Rev. H. Thomas, vicar, and Rev. J. Pampsaint Jones third carriage, grandchildren, including Mr Tom Rees and Miss Rhondda. Williams, Mr J. Qnick. Mr John Harding Gee, and Mr W. Phillips tourth carriage, Mrs Thomas, Mr James Jones, I Mr Phil Jones, Mrs Hughes, Mrs Row, Mrs W. Phillips, and Mr Ben Gabe; private carriages and saddle horses.

Despite the cold. and uncertain weather, there was a considerable jnftux. of visiters to Llan. drindod Wells for Easter.

1 Welsh Agriculturists. i PROPOSED NATIONAL SHOW. A meetingof the council of the United Counties Agricultural Society (Carmarthen, Pembroke, and Cardigan) took place at the Boar's Head Hotel, Carmarthen, on Saturday, Mr C. Morgan Richardson, Noyadd Wilym, presided. i The Chairman said the secretary (Mr D. H. [ Thomas) had read letters from members with J respect to the resolution passed at the last meet- ing in regard to the starting of the so-called Welsh National Agricultural Show at Abervst- wyth without consultation with the older j j societies in tbe Principalitv. Mr J. C. Harford, j of Falcondale, Lampetsr, agreed with the views j of the United Counties Society, and Mr W. i Bucklev Roderick, Llanelly, felt that the J Aberystwyth people should not bave adopted the { title of the Welsh National Agricultural Society. J without th general consent of the representatives ] of other agricultural societies in Wales. He sug- j gested that a printed form of resolution, con- i taining a strongly-worded protest against tbe adoption of the title, be sent to every agricul- tural society in South Wales, and that a" copy of the resolution, together with the names of the societies adopting it, be sent ti every Welsh member of Parliament. The Chairman said the resolution of protest passed at the last meeting had beeniorwarded to several societies. Some of them, hovever, had already adopted a similar resolution, amongst them being tbe Pembrokeshire Society and the South Wales Society of Black Oattle Breeders. A great deal had been said abont the action taken by the United Counties Society, and some people had attributed it to jealousy. (daughter.) He thought they could say very plainly that it | wa3 not owing to jealousy,but because the scheme I had been started on a wrong foundation. Their views were well expressed by Mr Buckley Roderick. They had every confidence in the f future of their own society, for it had come to stay. (Hear, hear.) The Aherystwytb show J was one that couldyne\er be a national show, j and it could only have the probable effect ot t doing some amount of harm to the United Counties Show whilst doing no real good to I themselves. No leading landowner in South Wales bad joined the new association, and it was vary marked that no representative from Car- ] marthecshire or Pembrokeshire attended the (House of Commons conference. The Chairman, j then read a letterffrom Mr Lewes T. Loveden I Pryse, secretary of tbe new scheme, regretting ( the resolution passed by the United Society, I and that the latter's chairman should have abused a smaller and yoanger society. The Chairman appealed to them to say whether he I had been in the least degree personal at the last | meeting. (Cries of "No.") When be saw that I letter of Mr Loveden Pryse he turned up the reports of tbe last meeting and was astounded at his own moderation. On the following day the secretary received another remarkable letter. I from Mr Loveden Pryse as follows :— I Dear Sir,— £ this morning received from a j member of the United Counties Society a | letter enclosing a circular sirred by you as secretary and dated February l&th, in which I the following sentence occurs—' The attention I cf the Council having been called to tbe pro- posal of the North Cardiganshire Agricultural Society to form their society into a National Agricultural Society, &c.. &c.' Farther refer- ence of tbe same sort was made in the proposi- ¡ tion to the North Cardiganshire Agricultural Society. I think it my duty to warn you that in sending out these circulars you are render- ing yourself liable to legal proceedings. It is open to a person at a private meeting to make a false statement abont another person or society, as the occasion is privileged^Jut it is a very different matter sending a circular roand, not even marked Private," containing that false statement. I must ask you to contradict this wherever you have circulated it.—Yoars faithfully, Lewes T. Loveden Pryse. P.S.—I have no doabt myself that the resolntion was passed owing to the members of the Coancil be- lieving the statement that was made aboat tbe North Cardiganshire Agricultural Society. The Chairman remarked, amid laughter, that the secretary need not beafraid of the threatened libel action, and he himself would be qnite pro- pared to join in it. Would the action be brought by the representatives pf the defunct North Car. diganshire Society or by the parents of the then unborn National Society ?" (Laughter.) Major Weblev-Parry-Pryse, Noyadd Trefawr, a native of Aberystwyth, thought it a pity, as there seemed to be a demand for a Welsh national show, that the successful United Counties Society should spurn the money that is being offered by prominent gentlemen towards the carrying out of that project at Aberystwyth as a start. Two gentlemen—one from North Wales and the otber from South Wales—had offered to give £500 apiece to start a national show,bc.t made it a condition that it should be beld at Aberyst- wyth. He did not think tbey ought to bark any Welsh National movement. To his mrnd the Welsh national show shonld be a movable show, but let Aberystwyth have the honour and glory of starting the movement. There were a great nnmber of Welsh members of Parliament behind the movement, and a very large number of agri- culturists had subscribed towards it. Colonel Lewes. Llysnewydd, said they had no objection to a show being held at Aberystwyth, bnt they did object to the Aberystwyth people calling that sbow the national show of Wales. Mr Bowen, Clynview We do not object to the scheme, bnt to the way it has been done. Mr W. J. BuckleyJkPenyfai, said he had had the honour of judging at the Aberystwyth show, and it looked to him as if it was kept going by trippers, as far as the money was concerned. Mr David Evans, Llwyncadfor Stnd Farm, said no one was a stronger supporter of the United Counties Show than himself but, on the other hand, he thought they were taking a wrong view of the Aberystwyth movement. At Aber- ystwyth last year there were entries from every county in Wales except Radnorshire. He was present at the Hoose of Commons meeting, and there were gentlemen there ready to support Aberystwyth because in was central for North and Sooth. The Rev. R. G. Lawrence proposed tha.t a copy of the resolution passed at the last meeting be sent to all existing Welsh agricultural societies, and their opinion be asked upon it- Mr C. W. R. Stokes, Tenby, seconded, remark- ing that if the existing societies had been con- salted, no doabt some truly national scheme would have been unanimously adopted. Mr Morgan Richardson had acted most disinteres- tedly in the matter, because there were very few cattle that could be brought to Aberystwyth from anywhere that he could not beat with his own stock. (Hear, hear.) The motion was carried without a dissentient vote. Practical steps were afterwards taken to im- prove the finances and the railway facilities for the next show of the society.

PLAYING WITH MATCHES. Fire at Cardiff. On Sunday morning three children were play- ing with matches in a spare bedroom at 79, Partridge-road, Cardiff, occupied by Mr Ernest Jones, marine engineer. There was a quantity of furniture in tbe room, and after tbe children had left it was found to be on fire. Neighbours were called in to assist in extinguishing the fire with buckets of water, and P.C. Sheeban gave the alarm to the central fire station through No. 5 box. Superintendent Geen a.t once turned ont with a tender, and the Roath hose was also despatched. The hose was attached to the hy- drant and the fira quickly put out, but tbe furni- ture and property bad been damagud to the ex- tent of £50. The loss ia not coveted by insur- ance.

MYSTERIOUS DROWNING. Girl Wife's Sad Case. The Birkenhead police are investigating a mysterious drowning case. On Saturday night they were informad by Alfred Lee, a clerk, his wife and be had some words, and while his back was turned she climbed tbe gate of Birkenhead Park and disappeared. It was dark at the time and though he searched for an hour he could find DO trace of ber. On Sunday morning the police dtagged the park lake and recovered the body. Deceased was only 18. and had been married six weeks. The husband afterwards lost his situa- tion, and tbey lived apart, she taking a situation in ctehop.

EVICTED AT ABERDARE. Discussion at the Guardians' Meeting. On Saturday, at the meeting of the Mertbyr Board of Guardians, Mr John Rogers in the chair, Mr J. Prowle stated that an Aberdare family, consisting of husband, wife, and eight children, had been evicted from their house, and he wanted to ascertain what the relieving offi- cer's position was in the matter. Tbe unfortunate people had nowhere to go, and the officer bad been criticised on a former occasion when a family, under similar circumstances, was given a note for admission into the Workhouse. He wanted to ascertain what the position of the woman and family would be if they applied for a ticket for tbe Workhouse. The Clerk said the first-question was whether the woman and the children were absolutely destitute. If so, it was the relieving officer's duty to give them re- lief in kind a.nd bring them before the board. or, if they had nowhere to go, to bring tbem into the Workhouse. ^ylr Prowle. in reply to a qoastion, said the hnsband was working, but be wouldItaveto^ro into lodgings unless became into tbe Workbonse with tbe family.

iii — MR tELl, M.P. AND THE A.S.R.S. Keply to Recent Criticism. Speaking at Aberdare, on Sunday, Mr Bell said that for some time past his action had been criticised iD tbe Press and it might remove the cariosity of some of those present if he was to tell them that the position he had taken in this matter was one he bad taken up entirely in the interests of those men whom be served and whose intereEts he desired to serve (Hear, hear.) He conscientiously believed that he was doing the greatest amount of good to those whom he served by the policy which he was pursuing. (Hear. hear.) If he thought their interest* would bf better 3erved by another policy he would readily adopt it. He had striven to do all in his power for the cause of labour and had taken advantage of every opportunity to accomplish something for those whom he represented. Wben he had betrayed labour and the confidence of those be worked for there would be some caase for criticism. (Cheers.)

A.S.R.S. IN SOUTH WALES. MEETING AT ABERC/NON. Speeches by Mr R. Bell, M.P., and Sir Alfred Thomas, M.P. A public meeting was beld on Saturday night at the Bethania Hall, Abercynou, lieder the joint auspices of the local Labour and Liberal Association and branch of the A.S R.S. The chair was occupied by the Rev. tlr Jenkins, who was supported by Sir Alfred Thomas and Mr Richard Bell, M.P.'s. Mr John Rhys Morgan, checkweigher, pro- posed and Mr Collier seconded a resolution pro- testing against the action of the Government in ignoring the claims of the workers and the dsmo- craay of the conntrv, and urging upon all Pro- gressive members of Parliament to do all they can to call attention to their needs, to restore Trade Unions to their:former positions, to secure for the people education upon broad, popular and unaectarian lines, and to prevent the adop- tion of slavery in South Africa. Mr Bell, who was cordially received, remarked that the only benefits which he had observed the Government had conferred during recent years were some reforms which they had made, not in the interests of the working classes, bat of its own friends. The education of the country should be snch as would give the children of the working classes opportunities and facilities which would enable the brightest of them to attain the highest positions in the land. (Hear, hear.) Anything short of that he would strenuously oppose. (Hear, hear.) Referring to the present position of Trade Unionism, he remarked that he was speaking at the seat ot all the commotion which led to it. The Taff Vale judgment wa3, in his opinion and in the opinion of the greatest lawyers of the country and aJso of the Colonial Secretary, contrary to the Trade Unions Act. The railway men were hit first, and the South Wales and Yorkshire miners were then hit in turn, and now tbe National Boot and Shoe Operatives' Union was being hit in the same way. There was, however, a general awakening, which he believed would have its effect sooner or later. If a body of Union men refused to work with non- Unionists they were liable for damages because fthey conspired to injure their employers. That was monstrous. He claimed the right to say that they shoald not work as Ions'as they legitimately tendered their notices. (Applause.) What they asked in their Bill of last year, and also in that of this year, was to have the same rights and privileges in la.v as employers' associations had. lie congratulated the miners of South Wales upon their perfect state of organisation. They had gone through great fights and brought some pressure to bear on some non-Unionists. He did not condemn those miners who felt they could not work with ncn-Unionists, but the employers, who realised the strength and value of Trade Unions, condemned them. (Laughter.] Two years ago he brought forward a motion asking the Government to appoint a committee of in- quiry into the state of the law as compared with the judgment of the Honse of Lords. The Government defeated it by 29 votes, and after rejecting tbeir Bill last year appointed a Com- mission of inquiry. It was of course impartial— (laughter)—yet there sat upon it a representa- tive of the organised employers in the person of Sir W. T. Lewis. He did not desire to say one word against him, for the Government bad a right to choose whom they liked from the em- ployers' side. That was not his ground of com- plaint, but tbat this impartial Commission had on it Sir W. T. Lewis, who was one of the greatest Trade Unionist opponents in the world, who never enjoyed himself better than when fighting some trade organisation. His complaint was not that he should uot be on the Com- missioD, but that there should also be upon it a strong lighting force representing Trade Unions, so that both sides should be fairly represented. The Trade Unions had struck, and had abso- lutely refused to give evidence to the Commis- sion. (Applause.) The Trades Dispute Bill would be brought before the House on the 22nd inst., bat it would be opposed again by the Government with the excuse that a Commission was inquiring into the matter, and that until it reported they conld not support it. But such pressure mast be brought to bear on the Govern- ment as to get them to support the second read- ing of the Bill in spite of Mr Balfour and his party. (Applause.) Sir Alfred Thomas, who was well received, "aid that disgusted as they might be with the present Administration, their concern must now be to prepare for, the coming campaign. That the country was anxious to give its verdict on the policy of the Government was only too apparent, and only awaited the opportunity. But what gave some anxiety to old campaigners was the fear that they might, as in the past 17 years, fritter away the enthusiasm of the Progressives with a number of party cries. When the Liberal party achieved a great victoty at a General Elec- tion,.such as in 1868, it was when they had only one motto on their banners—the Disestablish- ment of the Irish Church. Probably in no period in the history of our country were so manv great reforms passed aa in the Parliament of 1868. Yet in consequence of the compromise made in the Education Act of 1870, they were in the present difficulty with'regard to education. Compromise has ever been our greatest enemy. At the present time the air was full of compromise. There was every reason to believe a long lease of power was in prospect for the LiDeral party. John Bull took a good deal to move him, bot, he was aroused he was not easily tranquil There came the Question of tbe leadership of the Liberal party. Just now they had a few too many leaders. (Laughter.) They had some splendid men, snch as LordRossbery, Mr Asquitb, and not the least, Sir Henry Campbell Banner- man, who had stuck to the standard so gallantly and so long in the Honse of Commons. (Applause.) He was grieved the other da- when he heard that Sir William Harconrt—(cheers) — a grand old figbtsr—was going to lay aside his armour. He (the speaker) had often thought since of what they could do to show tbeir appre- ciation of him. bathe would not talk of that now. The people, not only of his constituency but of the whole of Wales, deepiv regretted losing snch a grand fighter, one of the grandest of the last century, and he looked upon him as the last of the giants. (Applacse.) The resolution was carried, and on the motion of the Rev. Mr Ptigh a hearty vote of thanks was accorded the speakers.

UNEXPECTED WEALTH. ROMANTIC STORY ROM BRISTOL Young Man's Inheritance. A young man named Moore, who came to Bris- tol shortly before Christmas, has just inherited a fortune under romantic circumstances. When be reached the city he was in such poor circum- stances that he was befriended by members of the Young Men's Christian Association, and a situation was obtained for him, which he held np to a week ago. Some time since he wrote to friends in London, who appear to have known that Mr Moore was in reality Mr Stephens, and that he was heir to a considerable fortune. By means of these friends a well known firm of London solicitors was put into communication with Mr Moore, who on Thnrsday last bad an interview with them. He then discovered that bis real name was Stephens, that he was the son of the late Rev. A. E, Ste- phens, of Cambridge, and that he was entitled to a fortune of £47,000, plus a rent roll of £10,000 a year. Mr Stephens, a gentlemanly-looking youc^ fellow, says he was born at Cambridge, anel attained his majority in March. As a boy he wa& sent to school at Ealing, but both his parenta died. and he bad had to rough it ever since. After the death of his mother and father be war looked after for a time by an old servant of tb" family, but latterly be had been wandering aboat. Arrangements are practically complete for th. estate to be handed o.er to Mr Stephens, who has already begun to participate in the benefits. With some of the first money he received Mr Stephens recompensed the friends in Bristol who had befriended him in the hour of need.

ANGLER'S SAD DEATH. Haverfordwest Man Found Drowned. Considerable sensation was caused in Haver- fordwest on Saturday evening when it became known that the body of a well-known townsman named George Richards bad been discovered in a small brook about two fniles from town. Deceased, who was 28 years of age. carried on business aa a tinman. lie was fond of fishing and seems to have gone out on Thursday evening in pursuit of tbis pastime in company with hi? brother, who is gardener at Cottesmoor, some two miles from Haverfordwest. He slept with his brother that night, and parted with the latter about E¡.30 on Good Friday morning. As he did not return home on Friday night, inquiries were, set on foot on Saturdav morning, and then a search was instituted. It was not until well on in thaafternoon that Mr John Lloyd,in company with two youths named William Evans and William Davies, found the body face downwards in the brook about three-quarters of a. mile from the Crow Hill bridge. There was only about three feet of water, and the banks were scarcely more than a yard wide. Deceased's rod was under- neath him, and there was a small trout on the line. but none in the basket, which was still strapped round his shoulder. Deceased had suffered occasionally from fits. There was no evidence to arouse even a suspicion of suicide. On Saturday evening at S.30 the Coroner (Mr H. J. E. Price) held an inqnest on the bedy ic Bethesda Schoolroom, when the jury returned a verdict .of "Fcund drowned," and gave their fees to the parents, with whom much sympathy is felt throughout the town.

THE KEEPING OF DOGS. Surprise for a Maesteg Trainer. At Bridgend Police Court on Saturday Joseph Davies, sinker, 19, Picton-street. Nantvffyllon, Maesteg. was summoned for keeping a dog with- out a licence Davjea said he had the dog for training purposes, and produced the licence beld by the owner. He had lived in Monmouth- shire, wbere the Excise officere had alwayp allowed him an exemption for the dogs he war training. The magistrates informed him tha- it was the person in whose possession the dofc was wbo should take out the licence. As he seemed vo have been ignorant of the law he wouK Only be fined 5s. Davies seemed very much sur- prised.

The annual concerts of the Wesleyan church, Oxford-street. Mardy, were held on Thnrsday and Friday evenings, presiasd over by Dr. Detta, Ferndale, and the Rev. — Lsach, Femdale. Thaze was a crowded audience at each concert and the artistes aemittrrt tbnmpelvsp wP.