The Aberystwith Observer

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. J NOBLER THAN REVENGE. BY THE Author of" The Heiress of Atherstone Grange CHAPTER L OLD MEMORIES. Images and precious thoughts That shall not die and cannot be destroyed." —WORDSWORTH. THE Temple! What a succession of vivid images are called up to an imaginative mind by the very sight and names of the musty-looking old buildings that still stand to speak of the power and wealth of the Order that once held stronghold there, glowing fancies of deeds of daring done, and knightly valour and the religious duties of stern and holy men to an„ labomination, and the soft vthi°s irom as from an unholy thing. Memorials of a pa £ —&nd. dreai7 enough now. knights and • m comparison with the the place of TA ^01DSs—have disappeared also, and CTiffini em/e.Bar kno™ no more' The cifiVona S 3 sru^r^s where once upon a time loyal ^"Cre wont to meet their sovereign with welcome whenever Royalty went eastward; and where heads of men who died for the causes they happened to have espoused frowned down on the passers by in grim significance of the state of public opinion or royal favour. The stately, inconvenient Law Courts and the new bank opposite have made a strange p'ace of the well- known corner, and country people, familiar with the London of a few years ago, look in vain for the old landmarks, and ask helplessly the way to places they thought they knew quite well. There are plenty of nooks and corners in the Temple that the hand of Time and improvement has not touched for centuries. Old World staircases with broad banisters that seem made for boys to slide down if boys ever came there and low flat steps, easy of ascent, though somewhat worn by the traffic of ceaseless feet; massive doors, telling of a past-and- gone style of building, lead to these chambers, plea- sant per;orce from their roominess and old-world as- pect and broad steps lead down to the gardens and the river froat of the old Templar's haunts. They knew how to select a dwelling-place did these bombastic, self-indulgent, saintly soldiers; and their successors, the men of law, have known how to keep It. Here in Garden Court Temple, London might be many a mile away for all sign of the hum and bustle of it that comes in at the open windows. There is bright sunshine and the twitter of birds from the trees outside, and the plash of the fountain in the court above makes it heard above the sound of patter- ing feet, which is incessant-for the Temple has naaay visitors-and the hum of voices that might be heard in any garden. There is a low ceaseless roar outside somewhere-a dull sound that seems to have nothing to do with the quietude of the sanctuary, or the old heroes who lie yonder in the church under their quaintly-carved effigies: it is the never-ending hum of the streets that, even through the night. is heard in fitful breaks, for life does not sleep in London, even 111 the darkest hours. In summer time Garden Court is a place to dream lrl, and the occcupant of the set of chambers known as I Preceptor's Corner' was dreaming most decidedly on this sunny afternoon. The old chambers had a number like the rest of the houses, but no one ever thought of calling them by it, and it is doubtful if the very inhabitants of them would have recognised them if asked for No. 18A.' They had been I Preceptor's Corner' always, as far as anyone knew, and they would remain so to the end of the chapter. It is more likely that they were actually the site of the abode of the Preceptor at some time or other, for they were not only the pleasantest rooms in the Temple, and the most favoured with light and air, but they were convenient to the river, and therefore handy for any outgoings or incomings that the Superiors of the Order did not think fit to publish to their inferiors. or incomings that the Superiors of the Order did not think fit to publish to their inferiors. Mr. Hedderwick Jarvis, the present occupier of the *ooms, was a lawyer of great repute, though he did not practise much himself now. Report said that he very little occasion to keep on his expensive chambers; He had none, as far as the necessity for business was concerned; and his friends declared that he only held them as a harbour of refuge, as it were to which the powers that be in his household at Norwood could not penetrate without leave granted by their master. This was only talk, of course. Mr. Jarvis was certainly very fond of his chambers, and spant far more time there than he did at home; and he kept various matters there that he would never have thought of showing to the wife of his bosom, or to the Prim young ladies who called him papa, and who were the counterparts of their estimable mother. It must not be imagined that Mr. Hedderwick Jarvis was a man of immoral life, or that he had two existences in any wrong sense. In all London a man Of purer mind or more real goodness of heart could scarcely have been found. Could his wife have read his inmost heart she would not have seen a single thought disloyal to her but he had his memories, and j ey were with him as he sat by his open window woking dreamily out on the river. Old memories, too, judging from the faded look of two or three letters that lie open before him, and the old-fashioned style of the dress in two miniatures that are close to his hand. Three, indeed, though there is nothing in one of them to tell when tho portrait was Jfken; it i8 simp]y a girl's h. ad, graceful and beau- u* as a dream, covered with rippling curls, the ^I'neas of which the artist had caught with mar- ell°us fidelity. There is a light drapery of lace or "oae-hing fa! Lry about the neck, but no indication of any sty!e whatever of dress. All the portraits are young. M;. Jarvis is, if not an °'d man, certainly past middle age, and will scar-e y See sixty again. People f.uiey hiin older even than that but he ia something old fashioned and b' h <<d the age in h's dress and manner, and his hair is wry White. That must he a peculiarity about, him, f ir ir. has been on far longfr than is usual in men ot his agi and easy temperament. It is a good face that bends over these relios of the past—a kindly face, alb,-it resolute and BO'JV times hard if he once make-- up his mind to anything he is not to be driven from his purpose by tho harshest of speeches, or th9 most persistent feminine nagging.' I And we were boys together,' he said, taking up the nearest of the pictures and holding it in his hand along with that of the beautiful head that seemed to have a fascination for him. Ail three of us at least they were boys, and I was a hobbledehoy old enough to set them an example-which I didn't. But how we loved each other, and how two of us loved her, and-' He paused, and a spasm passed over his face, and something like a tear stood in his eyes. I Well, well; he won her before I had time to ask her whether she cou'd love ME. She couldn't have done it, of course; it was impossible with Ramsay near her. I am glad I never asked her I was glad when I saw his grief for her loss, and knew what a heartache would go with him to his grave. And to think they are both gone. Ah, how many years ago! And I am their child's guardian, and the holder pf poor Hatherleigh's wishes too. Poor Hatherleigh my rosy, contented fag at school. It seems but yesterday that I thrashed him for going after a badger and getting nearly drowned; to say nothing of the com- panionship be fell in with. He sat looking at the portraits and drumming gently with his white hand upon the table. It was a very white hand, and one of the fingers was adorned with a diamond of almost unheard of price-a gift from a wealthy and grateful client. His mind had gone back to a time when diamonds and he were strangers-when he was a lad at school growing out of his clothes and causing his parents much anxiety about his future. His future had made itself. His two boyish friends lay under the sod, and his ward, Miss Helen Ramsay, was on her way from school to place herself under his guardianship, till such time as she should quit it for the protection of a husband already chosen, and perfectly aware of his good fortune. 'It seems but yesterday,' he murmured, as he took up one of the open letters-a thin, rustling paper, with a subtle scent about it that sent the mind travelling in a flash across the sea. and presented Eastern ideas and images at once. It was in a female hand, and the postmark was Allahabad. 6 I hardly know what prompts me to write,' part of it ran. There Is nothing the matter, and yet I feel as if I could not let this night go over without writing to you, my staunch and good friend, what is in my heart. I want you to promise that, whatever happens to me or my darling, you will be a friend to our child. She is so engaging and so pretty, that ehe has learned your name, and says it in fher prayers every night; and I want you to love her and help her if ever she is left alone in the world. Archie does not lomow I am writing this—and I don't intend to tell t him. He is overworked, and lew, and nervous, and j I am anxious about him. He is not ill—don't fancy that—but he is not bright; we none of us are. The cholera is upon us it has come slowly but surely, and I expect every day that we shall be ordered away to some place where we can get a breath of air. It is impossible here, the place is like an oven. We have sent Nelly away under safe guardianship is it n 't startling to you, who knows how we love her, to think that we could do that-but it is to save her life, perhaps, and I cannot leave Archie without me, he would have no care from anyone, and he would take none for himself, and there is not much doubt what the end of that would be. I fear the future to night. I don't know why, Laore than any other night; but I am tired of hearing tho death-bell ring, and being told how many men are gone every day out ot the bungalows. Let me have a letter from you. I thins a word in answer to this would giva my heart a lilt, and mate me more hopeful.' Ih<T- was more, of it in the same strain, and Mr Jarvis rubbed his spectacles, and laid it down Old let'erf, old memories,' he muttered. What heart- aches they are! She trusted me, though she never knew that I would have given my life to save her a s;n»le sorrow and she never received my letter, and the"next news I had of her was this.' He touched another of the faded bundle of letters as he spoke. A man's hand this time, and showing by its irregularity under what pressure of agitation it •was written. • Poor fellow 1 poor Archie 1' he murmured. • No wonder it broke his heart.' It was a passionate, incoherent letter, telling of the de,th of the woman he had so dearly loved. What she had feared had come to pass: Before they had had the orders to remove from their unhealthy location the cholera had come upon them, and it was the wife, and not the husband, that had succumbed. Archibald Ramsay had rl covered to find himself a widower, with a helpless baby of three years old on his hands, and his life brolen and shattered for all time, till he too should go down into the grave, and understand, maybe, the sorrow that had come upon his weary head. I I shall come home,' he wrote. 'I could not live out here without her. Hatherleigh—you remember him—your old schoolfag is coming home, too. What I should have done without him in this awful time I don't know. I think he has saved me from going wad. He has gone through the sorrow, too-but not like me. He knew it was coming. For months before his boy was born the doctors told him what he must expect; it would be either wife or child what would go -most probably his wife, and so it turned out. He has been a widower five years now, and his boy is a fine little fellow, and a great friend of my poor mother- less little Nellie. My darling told me what she had written to you before she died. She was quite sensible, and suffered nothing at the very last; and I know you will do what she asked yon, old friend, when I am taken too.' • Sixteen years ago,' die lawyer muttered; and it seems but yesterday that I went to meet them. And Mrs. Jarvis—bah!—she does not come into any memories where they are concerned. But I do think she felt rebuked when she found that my errand to Southampton was only to meet two sorrowful men and two little children. And Ramsay's daughter comes to me to-day, and Hatherleigh's son is going to marry her; and they both look up to me as if I were their father, and Mrs. Jarvis, work at it as she will, cannot undo the old bond of friendship, thatlastseven in the grave. Mrs. Jarvis was a most exemplary woman, but she was austere, and made her husband's life a burden to him sometimes by her temper, and the knowledge that love had played very little part in her marriage with the rising lawyer. She was aware that he had passionately loved another woman, but she had seen her chances of matrimony fading, as they will fade from a lady not in her first bloom of youth, and with a reputation for a temper and tongue of the sharpest order; and she had angled for the handsome-bachelor with a persistence that left him no escape, and which resulted in her becoming Mrs. Hedderwick Jarvis, and the mistress of a fine house and almost unlimited means. She would have picked a quarrel with him, if possible, anent Miss Helen Ramsiy and his guardian- ship of that young lady; but it was a tabooed subject in the house when the master of it was at home. Mrs. Jarvis thought she ought to have had the bringing up of the child of her husband's old friend, but he had chosen to bestow her far away from Norwood, and give her education into the hands of a genial, warm- hearted woman, whose business agent he bad been for many years, and of whose abilities he had the highest opinion. This Mrs. Jarvis chose to consider as an insult, and to hold forth upon as such and now that the young person's education was completed, (the lawyer's wife always spoke of her husband's ward as the • yc ung person') she was not considered capable of making a home for her. She was to stay with a worldly family where the daughters went about to plays and concerts, and had carpet dances at home, and were otherwise steeped to the very lips in frivolity and uselessness. Mrs. Jarvis aired her grievances loudly, but her severest strictures on her husband's conduct were only as the crackling of thorns under. a pot' in his ears, and altered his determination not one "hit. CHAPTER II. HELEN RAMSAY, A rosebud set with little wi,ftll thorns. And sweet as English air could make her, she.* —TENNYSON. A TAP at the door roused the lawyer from his medita- tions, and he lifted up his head with a short Come in,' expecting to see no one but his clerk. But, to his amazement, there entered, as it seemed, the original of the portrait before him, a fresh young girl, her pretty face all beaming with delight, and her hands outstretched to return his pleased greeting. My dear,' he exclaimed. Already ? .1 You are a full hour before your time.' I know I hope you will not bo inconvenienced,' she replied, in a sweet musical voice that somehow gave him the heart-ache. It was so very like that voice of yeirs ago, that had thrilled him through many a time, and made him lose himself in many a day dream never to be fulfilled. Madame Duhauton bad to come up by this train, and Miss Nettley thought it would be better for me to come too. I was to give her compliments to you, and say she hoped she bad not done wrong in sending me. Madam Duhauton left me only at the entrance yonder, and I knew my way here quite well.' I And your luggage, my dear ?' I I left it all at the station. Was thut right ? Ah, I am afraid I have put you out, blundering in this fashion. I forget how important every moment of your time must be: I Not so important but that I have time to spare for you, my dear. You are growing very like your mother, child.' I Am I ? I like to think so, though I never re- membered her. You knew her ?' I Aye, I knew her,' the lawyer said. And a spasm of such pain passed over his face as he spoke, that Helen Ramsay understood in a flash what the know- ledge had been, and what the bond had been between her parents and her guardian. • I—I beg your pardon,' she faltered. «I » I I loved her, Nellie,' he said and I was just look- ing at her and calling back the old times when you came in. See, you have seen this before. It might be your portrait now.' The girl looked at it and smiled, a bright flush rising to her cheek. Why, this is very beautiful,' she said, naively, And your glass will tell you the same story, my dear,' her guardian said. Nay, never blush like that. There is no harm in a woman knowing that she is beautiful. You shall have these letters to read some- time. They are sorrowful relics to me. And now about yourself. Have you dined?' I No,' was the laughing answer. We don't do any- thing so common-place on breaking-up days. Miss Pemberton 'receives* in the drawing-room, and there are plates of cake and wine-such nasty stuff-and we go away awfully hungry generally; for we don't eat much breakfast, as a rule. Madame Duhauton gave me a bun at Grassmead Station. But that isn't dinner, is it?' I No, it isn't,' said the lawyer, demurely. i Suppose we dine here, Nellie.' I Here, in these dear old rooms ? I should like it above all things. I thought the Temple was a place where people did nothing but pore over musty old books and things. I didn't know anybody ever ate or drank here.' I I am afraid a great many people would starve, if they did not,' Mr. Jarvis answered. 'A good many spend their lives here. Take off your hat, child, and I will send you something to eat. See, you can make your toilet in here, while I consider what we shall have for dinner. We'll have a pic-nic or two, and you shall toll all about Miss Nettley and the school before we start away for Hillford., I Am I going to Hillford to-night?' the girl asked, a pleased look coming into her face. I I thought that would be better, my dear—that is, I fancied you would like to make acquaintance with your new home. It won't be your home for very long, you know-only till Frcnk-' I Did you say I was to go in here?' Helen asked, suddenly opening a narrow door that led into a tiny room like a dressing-room. • Oh, this is delightful. I can make myself quite presentab'e. How nice of you to think about dinner, you dear old guardy. I declare I am quite famished. Whatever Mr. Jarvis had been going to say about Frank Hatherleigh was cut short by Helen's sudden di appparance But no thought that she had done it pi rposely ever entered his head. He summoned a clerk through his speaking tube, and bade him order a dinner from the restaurant he himself affected when he dined in town, as he not unfrequently did. And then he gathered up the letters and the miniatures and put them away, thinking the while of Helen's great beauty and her likeness to her mother. • She is perilously lovely,' he said to himself. « It is fortunate that her future is settled, perhaps. Frank is a good fellow, and she will be safe with him. If she were free, she would be a mark for all sorts of ineligible people, and I should have trouble on my hands. As it is-Ah, here she comes. My dear, you look radiant. I don t believe you have given mu a kiss yet.' I You shall have a dozen if you like,' Helen replied flinging her arms round the lawyer's neck, and bestow- ing that number, at least, on him before she left off making him think with a kind of chill of the dutiful little pecks his daughters favoured him with night and morning, and causing him to wish that those two exemplary young ladies were a little more like this fresh young creature, who was not ashamed to show what she felt, and to say she loved anyone that was kind to her. Mrs. Jarvis was very fond of saying that she was thankful that her daughters were not demonstrative. exhibitions of feeling were so very unladylike. And certainly, if Phyllis and Henrietta had any feeling at all, they managed to hide them with remarkable cleverness. Spiteful people were very apt to say that they had no hearts, and no feelings to be stirred Certainly, they had none that came to the surface liko Helen Ramsay's. I It's the most delightful thing in the world,' that young lady said, as she sat down r/pposite a roast fowl, to be instructed by her guardian in the art of cutting it up. I It's worth going without dinners for a week to come here and have one in this charming old place. It only wants one thing to make it quite perfect.' • And what is that, pray ? Frank ?' • No, I wasn't thinking of him,' Helen said, a slight cloud passing over her pretty face, and vanishing again as quickly as it came. *1 should like all the girls to see me, that's all. Wouldn't they envy me p > I'm not so sure I should like it,' Mr. Jarvis said with a smite. I it would be rather a formidable matter to eat my dinner in the presence of a bevy of young ladies. You are a very child still, little one. I thought you were to come back to me a woman this time.' So I have, most grave and womanly. l'm going to begin now. Mrs. Churchill shall have no reason to be afraid of my being childish. Is she very dread- ful, guardy ?' She is the sweetest and most kind-hearted woman I know,' Mr. Jarvis said. You ought to- be very happy in her house, my dear. She is cheerful, and likes pleasant people about her. You will not lack amusement! and Frank will always be welcome there.' 'Oh, yes. Frank, of course,' Miss Ramsay re- sponded. • Frank would have to be allowed to visit me I suppose wherever I went. Guardy, will there be time before we go for me j to see the Temple Church? You said the last time I was in London that I should go in; but there was something going on and t didn't.' • Plenty of time, my dear. It is a very interesting place; we will go across directly we have finished our dinner.' Again Miss Ramray had contrived to dispose of the subject of her future husband, and this time the Iawt»» noticed it. • She doesn't like talking about it, perhaps,' he said a little shy on the matter, I dare say. Well, Frank will set all that right when they meet. He is a luck i fellow—his life will not be spoilt like mine was.' I Helen's hat was soon donned, its very simplicity i making her loveliness all the more remarkable, and causing dry old lawyers and impecunious clerks alike to stare at her, and wonder who the beautiful girl could be that Kr. Hedderwick Jarvis had got hold of. It was a striking face. A bonny English face, with rippling hair above it of a soft brown that took rippling hair above it of a soft brown that took golden gleawjg where the sun caught it. Taken separately, perhaps there was not a perfect feature to bo found. The nose was tip-tilted,' and gave an ex- pression of sauciness to the bright eyes and the rosy lips that seemed made to be kissed. Helen's mouth was by no means of the prunes and prism' order it was honest and firm. No one could imagine a fa seh >od or even a conventional fib issuing from be- tween the straight white teeth, or the eyes drooping before anyone with hesitation or shame. In figure Mr. Jarvis's ward was tall, rather over than under the middle height, but lithe and graceful, with an easy carriage that showed the lessons of Miss Pemberton and her teacher of dancing had not been thrown away; Helen's governess had been a judicious friend as well as a conscientious schoolmistress, and her education had lacked nothing that could make her a perfect lady. She was to the manner born, ready made in that respect, as her mother had been before her, and her guardian could hardly believe in the years that bad gone by and substituted the daughter for the ) mother as he watched her graceful movements and listened to the bright tones of her fresh young voice. Mrs. Jarvis, at Norwood, was in her very stiffest and most uncongenial mood while her husband and his ward were wandering through the Temple Church, and Helen was asking more questions than the lawyer with all his knowledge of antique lore could answer. She was annoyed about Miss Ramsay altogether. She did not actually want her husband's ward in her house but she would have liked to be the directress of her future and the counsellor in the new life that was so soon to begin for her. It was monstrous that Mr. Jarvis should separate this girl from his own house in this fashion, and she issued an ediot that Miss Helen Ramsay should be as it were a tabooed creature, and not even talked about amongst them- selves at home. But papa will be sure to bring her here,' remarked selves at home. But papa will be sure to bring her here,' remarked Miss Jarvis, Phyllis by nime. We shall have to talk to her then, 1 suppose ?' I Of course wo must be civil,' her mother said; 'but I will have no intimacy struck up with her, girh, remember that. I don't want my house turned into anything like that Hillford Place.' 'That Hillford Place' was the home to which Helen was going, as pretty and cheerful a place as anyone could desire to live in, with the spirit of perfect free- dom prevading everybody and everything about it, but an orderly Christian household for all that. In their heart of hearts both Phyllis and Henrietta wished that their own home was as genial. They wearied sometimes of the rigid decorum that was their mother's pride. • Ma, here's Mr. Hatherleigh and his cousin!' It was the younger Miss Jarvis who spoke from her coign of vantage by the window that commanded most of the drive in front of the house. What can they want here ?' Mrs. Jarvis said, rising hastily, but with a pleased look withal for though Frank Hatherleigh was a nobody and worse than no- body, being already appropriated, the cousin of whom her daughter spoke w s a highly eligible young man, a clergyman holding a good position and free, which latter fact was more to the purpose than anything, for the Misses Jarvis, though still very young, were of marriageable age, and had the misfortune from their extreme primness and decorum to look consider- ably older than their years. Young men of the right sort were scarce, and the advent of Horace Gayford was always a source of pleasure. •I suppose Mr. Hatherleigh thinks he will see Miss Ramsay here,' Mrs. Jarvis said, with a vinegary voice. 6 He would'naturally suppose that her guardian would bring her here, instead of taking her away to that place as if she were something too precious to be brought near his wife and daughters. Of course I am at home, Danvers,' she added sharply to the servant who bad entered to ask the question before admitting the visitors. Show the gentleman up at once.' r 4 I'll take my oath she said she was at home to no one not an hour ago,' muttered the aggrieved Danvers, as lie left the room discomfited but there's never any knowing how to take her. No wonder the master's taking the young lady somewhere else. She wouldn't have much peace of her life in this house. He ushered the gentlemen into the drawing-room, where they were received with as much warmth as the lawyer's wife ever permitted herself to show, Frank Hatherleigh looking round him with something of disappointment. Isn't Fairy here, Mrs. Jarvis?' be asked. 'I beg your pardon, I mean Miss Ramsay, of course. I always call her Fairy myself, you know, and it slipped out.' No, she is not here,' was the chilling answer; • we do not exoect her. She was to go straight to Hillford.' And we have just come from there We've made a muddle of it somehow. The fact is I forgot whether Mr. Jarvis told me he would bring her here or not, and I called at Mrs. Churchill's and found no one in but the servant, and she didn't seem to know more than that everything was ready for Fairy when she came, and as my cousin was coming up to town I thought I would come with him and see if she were here with you. 'I think I can arrange that she shall be,' Mrs. Jarvia said. 'If you gentlemen will stop and have a scrambly sort of tea. with us. We dined early to-day, being alone so we are equal to a high tea, if you can eat such a meal, and I will write a note to my husband and ask him to bring Miss Ramsay here for the night. (To be continued.)

ALGERIA OF TO-DAY. A Lady Touriet" writes An important event in the history of Algeria and Tunis has recently been (eleirated-namely, the official opening of the rail- way which unites the two capital cities. The line has been actually completed since November. During the laft month we have ourselves traversed it from end to end, the train proceeding cautiously, however, at times, owing to the friable nature of the soil, and the consequent danger or laildslips- On the opening day every litt'e wajside station was gay with tricolours and ehieldt- btaring the initials R.F. The pillars were wieathed with palm leaves, and brilliant garlands of marigolds hung to the whitewashed walls. Crowds of white-robed Arabs were grouped behind every barrier and filled all the third-class carriages; and while scan. ning their placid, contented faces, and noting their lazy but good-humoured interest in the festive arrange- ments for the day, it is difficult to believe that these are the same ferocious savages who so strenuously opposed the introduction of that railway which now they make use of so freely, or to remember how short a time it is that the French have been actually in possession, and that the greater part of the last 50 years has been fpent in deadly con- flict with those barbarous races who are taming eo rapidly under their influence. It is but six years ago since a horde of these same Arabs descended from their mountain fastnesses upon the station of Oued Zergiia. They tore up the rails for many miles, they roasted the station-master alive, and massacred the railway officials, to the number of 10, under circum- stances of extraordinary barbarity. (The passing traveller may see the graves of thet-e railway victims in tl e garden of the station at Beja.) We travelled in the train with a gentleman who had been through tbo Algerian campaign, and his practised eye detected cn the heights many an Arab settlement which would otherwise have escaped our observation. Broad brown tents, not two feet high, exactly the colour of the soil -tiny stone huts, hardly to be distinguished from the rocks under which they nestled. "You would scarcely believe," said our companion, "howpopulous these mountains are Our regiment would be march- ing along, not a living soul in sight, when suddenly, at some secret signal, 10 000 Arabs would spring, as it were, out of the earth, and the hills would be swarming with life." This gentleman, having served his time, had now taken root as a settler, and was the owner of an estate near Bordj Bouira, a sort of half- way-house" station between Algiers and Constantine. In answer to our questions as to sport he said he bad trapped two lions on his own farm, and grumbled as to the impossibility of keeping any cats. The rail- way people, when they had finished this bit of the lioe, left me a legacy of twelve but it was no use Every cat has disappeared—the panthers have eaten them all!" Borcj Bouira itself has been totally destroyed three times but it has risen like a phoenix from its ashes, and is now a tidy little French settlement of some fifty houses, with a neat little market-place and tiny boulevard of eucalyptus trees. There are three hotels, and, wonder of wonders three omnibuses. The little hotel we honoured was primitive certainly in its ar- rangements; but the beds were good and clean, and the cooking very much to be commended. As many travellers are likely to break their journey here, now that the line is open, this little place will doubtless in a few years become an important town; and similar little settlements are forming rapidly in every part of the country. At present the line is a single one- one long spinal cord, with an occasional rib on either side, leading respectively to the edge of the Sahara on the south, or some important seaport on the north. But the traveller who wanders down the rib ba3 no choice but to return the same way. He may, of course, if he pleases, take ship to some other port, but of roads across country there are hardly any; and, except on horseback, no possi: bility at present in Algeria of making what is usually called "a tour." But all this will come; the event which has been celebrated is but the harbinger of still more wonderful changes in the future. The Arab proper is essentially a lazy being, content to vawn out his days; but the Kabvles are hardy, intel- ligent, and industrious, and take kindly to the arts of civilisation. The French are admirable colonists; they are conciliatory in their manners, and they have had the good sense to respect the religion of the native races. At the door of every mosque the order is written in French-" 11 est defendu d'entrer ici sans se dechausser." Under these circumstances the old hatred seems to be dying away. The country thus freshly opened out is deeply interesting in its present state, and with such a soil and such a climate there need be scarcely any limit to the prosperity one may prophecy for Algeria in the future.

SAID the gilded youth What's the use of my kick- ing against the price my tailor sets on a suit of clothes? I used to do it, but one day, after I had argued a couple of hours with him, I suddenly thought that it was a ridiculous waste of time, as I should never pay the bill. WHAT has become of the "low, rakish pirate Ichoouer" of romance ?—Philadelphia Inquirer. It is in the beer saloon, dear boy, in the beer saloon, and the pirates rake in a nickel for a great deal of froth and romance and very little beer.—Boston Commercial Bulletin.

l?U0Utr$i)3 ycttffS. JOHN ROBERTS^ S P I R I TAN D WINE M E R C H INT GOGERDDAN ARMS AND LIGlSf HOYAL HOTEL ABERYSTWYTH, Y A U L T S — 2, BRIDGE STREET. s s S -j ••• from 2 3 per Lottie Sr^^T^L^V r t IKISH WHI-KEY 3 0 •. OPT fr 'm 2 u Per b0 £ tl SCOTCH Do. 3 0 VlKS\IA 2 PALE BKAxDY d o (M AT-kt J HUM 2 9 1 3 Champagne and all Sparkling "Wi: es of qual't- SOLE AGENT iou WORTHINSTOVS CELEBRATED "DIXXER ALES 3s. PER JJOZEN IMP. PINTS, LOCH KATRINE SCOTCH TVHISKEY, 38 CD PER BOTTL- COFFEE ROOM LUNCHEONS FROM 11 A.M. ro 2 P.M. BAILY. IrZ- Breaks for the Devil's Bridge leave the Hotel. W. H. WINE AND SPIRIT MERCHANT, QUEEN'S HOTEL WINE STORES, MARINE TERR ACE. Per Bottle. s. d. s d ••• „T from 2 3 SHERRY 2 o' IUlaH WHIisKY 3 0 PORT 2 6 SCOTCH WHISKY 3 0 MARS 1LA 1 9 PALE BRANDY 4 0 CIAEET ,13 RUM „ 2 9 CHAMPAGNE 3 6 WINES DRAWN FROM THE WOOD. THE CFLEBRATED EDINBURGH ALE-3s. PER DOZF>< IMPERIA PINT BOTTLES. Sole Agent for—GLENROSA SCOTCH WHISKY. AND AT THE BELLE VUE ROYAL HOTEL, MARINE TERRACE. All ORDERS over £ 2 scut Carriage Paid to auy Station on the Cambrian and M. & M. railways.

WHY MARK TWAIN LEFT THE ARMY. At a banquet of Union Veterans in Baltimore recently Murk Twain gave his war history as follows: -When yonr secretary invited me to this reunion of the Union Veterans of Maryland he requested me to come prepared to clear up a matter which he said had long been a subject of dispute and bad blood in war circles in this country-to wit, the true dimen- sions of my military services in the Civil War, and the effect which they had upon the general result. I recognise the importance of this thing to history, and I have come prepared. Here are the details. I was in the Civil War two weeks. In that brief time I rose from private to second lieutenant. The monu- mental feature of my campaign was the one battle which my command fought-it was in the summer of '61. If I do say it, it was the bloodiest battle ever fought in human history; there is nothing ap- proaching it for destruction of human life in the field, if you take into consideration the forces engaged and the proportion of death to survival. And yet you do not even know the name of that battle. Neither do I. It had a name, but I have forgotton it. It is no use to keep private information which you can't show off. In our battle there were just 15 men engaged on our side—all brigadier-generals but me, and I was a second-lieutenant. On the other side there was one man. He was a stranger. We killed aim. It was night, and we thought he was an army of observation; he looked like an army of observa- vation—in fact, he looked bigger than an army of observation would in the day time; and some of us believed he was trying to surround UP, and some thought he was going to turn our position, and so we shot him. Poor fellow, he probably wasn't an army of observation, after all, but that wasn't our fault; as I say, he' had all the look of it in that dim light. It of observation, after all, but that wasn't our fault; as I say, he had all the look of it in that dim light. It was a sorrowful circumstance, but he took the chances of war, and be drew the wrong card; he over-estimated his fighting strength, and he suffered the likely result; but be fell as the brave should fall—with his face to the front and feet to the field-so we buried him with the honour of war, and took his things So began and ended the only battle in the history of the world where the opposing force was utterly exter- minated, swept from the face of the earth-to the last man. And yet you don't know the name of that battle; you don't even know the name of that man. Now, then, for the argument. Suppose I bad con- tinued in the war, and gone on as I began, and exter- minated the opposing force every time-every two weeks-where would your war have been ? Why, you see yourself, the conflict would have been too one- sided. There was but one honourable course for me to pursue, and I pursued it. I withdrew to private life, and gave the Union cause a chance. There, now, you have the whole thing in a nutshell; it was not my presence in the Civil War that determined that tre- mendous contest-it was my retirement from it that brought the crash. It left the Confederate side too weak.

HISTORIC BONES. An interesting discovery was made the other day at Winchester Cathedral during the construction of the monument to hold the skeleton of Bishop Courtenay. A workman, on making an opening in the choir wall, exposed De Blois' leaden coffer in which that bishop bad enshrined the bones of his uncle Richard, the second son of the Conqueror, who was killed by a stag in the New Forest. Richard's bones were thus pre- served by King Stephen's brother, and the coffer, after some seven centuries, remains perfect. The inscription denotes that the coffer contains the bones of Richard, but the words Beorn Dux leads anti- quarians to believe that the coffer also holds the bones of Earl Beorn, nephew of Canute. An examination by order of the dean will at once solve this deeply interesting problem.

DINING ON SNAILS. Jay Gould has set New Yorkers to eating snails. Nearly every afternoon since his return from his Far Western trip the great financier has stopped at the office of a transatlantic steamer company, stayed a few seconds in the agent's sanctum, and emerged with a brown paper parcel, which he carried home with the air of possessing something very precious. These packages contained each about a quart of snails, of the species eaten in some parts of France, and specially imported by some of the steamship men as a favour to friends. Mr. Gould got his appetite for snails in New Mexico, however, and got it bad," as one close observer declares. He has the things cooked under stringent order3 to boil them first in their shells, then submerge them in a highly- flavoured sauce, and finally roast them. They are served in the shells, which by this time are thoroughly browned. When eaten they are piled hot on a plate, after the manner of roasted clams, and the eater extracts them by holding a shell in his left hand, while with a fork in his right he gets the curious morsel out. The taste is pleasant, if one isn't squeamish, and a liking is easily acquired for the escargots," as they are called in the restaurants, where they have been this week suddenly introduced. Some are brought from France, but the bulk are gathered by boys in the outlying districts. Mr. Gould has hitherto been famous for a plain diet, and so his mania for snails is all the more a Wall-street wonder.

-==- fli^-ALL WHO USE glNCLAIR'S COLD- WATER S OAF Should see tha.t they get the REAL ARTICLE —a& some unfair Shopkeepers, for the sake of extra gain, have been detected in palming off counterfeits, trading on Sinclair's reputation. ALWAYS ASK FOR glNCLAIR'S SOAP Which has won favour with the Public for its MAGIC CLEANSING PROPERTIES, and thorough sterling value. A boon to rich and poor alike. Everybody buys and everybody, sellp glNCLAIR'S COLD WATER SOAP Sold by GBOCEKS and OILMEN Everywhere. J. SIKCLAIB & Son. Sonthwark St., London, S.E. and ¡5, Whitechapel. Livemogl. 'to f- .:A. SiJiOEGE'S PiLE AND GRAVEL PILLS, Fatewrdsad 1. several eminent Phr«ciaii3 and SurgeflBfe and UNIVERSALLY lieli in high esteem. TJsoufrh you suffered and despaired for years and trteC Etm^ijits in vain, be assayed 'Lere is stiii a safe aDd. Bpeedy cuie you at a small cost by using rj EORGE'S PILE & GRAVEL PILLg, vJ. wlii.-h sire n w recognised by all as bei-'g lie befl| Medicine yet discovered for fiLH AN if GRAVEf,, as well a* for 'be feliowii'g- pains, tvli'.cli in Ninety-nine Cas-soBI of c, Efy Hundred, are cius-d by those ui Maladies; Tain in the rock. Flatulency, Grij-ia?, Colic, A sense of weigh1- in the back and loins, Parting pains 211 the region of the heart, I1" r and Kidneye, ConBtipa/ion. Fans in the thi.-hs, sometimes shootiug down to the ca)f of the leg and foot, Suppression :uù retei.t'on of urine, r:¡,ins in tha Stomach and all Liver Complaints. Tho^snnds have been cured by these Ti ls, ni many wU Lsvd been pronounced hopeless have >1 ■ > 11 thoroughly ) estcred to their health bj their uss. ONE BOX WILL CONVINCE THE MOST SCEPTICAL ag TEE IB KT-TICACY. In order to snit all who may b': suJT-rin.r fro T1 One or Bjtlk of these Maladies, the Proprietor prep«re8 this Vegetattt lierufcdy in the folio ving ;o'-ms Xo. l.-GEOHGE'S FILE AVD GHAVEL PILLS. No. 2.—GEOttiiiTS GRAVEL PILLS. No. :GEuRil.E'j PILLS fOR TilE PILE3. Imp Trant Testiiioaiala from Doctors, Chemists, and r. vaiids, from all parts of the country, will be forwarded tar nddivt s on receipt cf a s: [IIDP envelops. Sold in Roses, Is. l^d. and -a. 91., by all resp-ct^bfe Llienut: by Post, Is. 4J and 3s., in postage stamps. EVERY bOX IS PROTECTED BY THE GOVERNMENT STaMP NOTICE.—The title .6 PILE & GRAVEL PILLS" is Copyright, and entered at Stationers' Hall. Proprietor, J. E. GEORGE, M.R.P.S. HIRWAIN, GLAMORGANSHIRE. J O H X MOsdAN, PRINTS H, Observer Office, Aberystwyth. ffrinting of every description executed at the Observer Office, 1 North Parade. Estimates furnished. Moderate Charges. BOOKBINDING OF EVERY DESCRIP- TION AT' EDWARD EDWARDS, GREAT DARKGATE-STEEET, ABERYSTWTTII Back nnmbers of Serial Works Obtained. REES REES, BILL-POSTER, &c., LITTLE DARKGATE STREET, ABERYSTWYTH, BEGS to inform tlie Public that he leases the most JD prominent Pobtiiig Stations in Aberystwyth. Orders for Town and Country strictly attended to. R. R. begs to inform the Public that he is a Mem- ber of the United Kingdom Bill Posters Association. ONE BOX OF CLARKE'S B 41 PILLS are warranted to cure all discharges from the Urin- ary Organs, in either sex, acquired or constitutional. Gravel, and Pains in the Baok. Sold in Boxes, 4a 6a each, by all Chemists and Patent Medicine Vendors; or sent to any address for 60. stamps by the Ma.kers, THE LINCOLK £ MIDLAND ."COUNTIES' DRUG COX- PANT, Lincoln. Wholesale-till the Wholesale Houses. WINDOW BILLS, "¥his House to Let," may be obtained at the Observer Office, price ona penny each. WORTH A GUINEA A BOX. BEE CRAM'S PILLS ARE admitted by thousands to be worth a GtrnmA A Box for bilious and nervous disorders, anoh Ml wind and pain in the stomach, stok headache, giddineat, fulMia and (welling after meal*, diuiness and drewiirtes*, cold chilli, lushing of hutl, low of appetite, shcrtneM of bNath, foatir*- ness, scurvy, blotches on the skin, disturbed altap, frifhtfal areams. and all nervous and trembling aenaationa, fee. ft. fint dose will give release in twenty miriutei. This is no flctiM, or ther have done it in thousands of caaes. Brery mfferer 18 earnestly invited to try one box of tke" Pills, and they will 118 acknowledged to Do WORTH A GUINEA A BOX. For female* of all ages thtae Pilla an inralaable, as a few doses of them carry off all gross humours, open all obstructions end bring about a'i that in required. No female should b# witfc- out them. There is so rnedieinr to be found to equal BEECHAM'S PILLS for removing any obstruction or 1rNpt- larity of the system; If taken according to the to the directions tiTen with each box they will soon rcsto e lemal.. of all agw lit lOurd and robust health. For a weak stomaeh, impaired digestion, and a&jMrdomst the liver, they Mt like "MAGIC," and a few doaes will 118 found to work wonders upon the most iirjierUnt organs in tM human machine. Tney strengthen the whole muaeular aystSill, restore the long lost complexion, bring baek the keen edgo m appetite, and arouse infT action with the ROSEBUD or healthy the whole physical em -ty or the human frame.—Theaa art "FACTS" admitted by ;}¡ollJand., embracing all eluMI ai •oeieiy, and one of the best guarantees to the nervous sat lebilitatfcd is, BEECHAM'S PILLS have the largest lal. patient medicine in the world. BEECHAM'S MAGIC COUGH PILLS. Asa remedy for Coughs in general, asthma, difficulty <4 sreathing, shorten of breath, t ghtness and oppression of do thest, wheeling, cc., these Pills stand unrivalled. TbW speedily remove that sense of oppression and difficulty m kreathmg which uightly depiire the patient of rest. Let sap peraon give BSKCHAM'S Cores Piixa a trial, aad the most violent cough will in a short ftte be remoTed. CACTIOV.—The public art repeated to notice that Lbe words "BRECIAX'§ PILLS, St Helena" are on the Soruwem tfliied to etch hot of the Pills. If not on, they ara forgery. Prepared only a&d sold wholesale and retail by the proprietar, T. BnxOiW, chemist, St Heleas, Lanca*h:i«, in boxes at Is, 11 aad 2s 9d. each. Sect pottfree from the proprletorf er 19 or ti ttMtpe.—BeM by all druggists and patted M«dieta« Deiton la kit MJ^-tall tosetlwt aw rws witt ssA fcsa. TV] OTICES TO QUIT, from Landlord to Tenant JAI and Tenant to Landlord, may be had atths Observer Office, price one penny each. FOR THE BLOOD is THE Lins.—CLARKE'S WORLD. FABtED BLOOD MIXTURE is warranted to cleanse the Hood from alllmpurities from whatever cause arising. In Scrofula, Scurvy, Skin and Blood Diseases, and Sores of all kinds, its effects are marvellous. Thousands of Testimo- nials. Sold in bottles, 2s. 9d., or 33 Stamps, by all Chemist* and Mediciue Vendors everywhere.