The Aberystwith Observer

¡he f(eed of the $our$ A The need of a safe and efficacious family medicine Is felt in every home. It is a wise plan A W to keep a box of BEECHAM'S PILLS in the house. They are always ready—any hour of W T the day or riig-ht—to relieve those sudden attacks of Stomach Pain, Nausea, Indigestion, I A Colic, or Biliousness that occur in every household. BEECHAM'S PILLS are easily A jf taken by young or old, and require no preparation before administering. Their good W I effects are felt soon alter the first dose is taken. A Beccbam's Pills i i I are a vegetable remedy for the numerous ills that begin in the stomach, liver, kidneys A A and bowels. They are a natural medicine, carefully compounded from vegetable roots ■ j and herbs. That their virtues are widely recognised is evidenced by their immense sale, T A which is in excess of 6,000,000 boxes every year. Try them when you feel out of sorts, ak w and note the wholesome effect on the stomach, the bowels, the head, and complexion, w Y It's a good idea to keep a box handy. I W Sold everywhere in boxes, price liH (56 pills) & 2 9 (168 pills). ▼ -lw 4

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] THE MURDER AT THE MANOR. BY BEATRICE HERON-MAXWELL and FLORENCE E. EASTWICK. STOCKWELL'S NARRATIVE: CHAPTER XVI.—DEAD TO THE WORLD. I spent yesterday in Bayonne, and soon light- ed upon Anne's place of abode during her so- journ in that town. I went armed with a let- ter from Deville written to me during the search in Paris, in which he had promised me every as-, sistance in his power. The signature proved an "open sesame" to the official list kept for travellers or visitors staying at the hotels and lodging houses. The name of Madame Anne Clere was only a very transparent disguise for the woman I was seeking, and on pressing my enquiries at the Hotel du Sud, I came to the conclusion, by the description there given of the lady in question, that it could be none other than Anne Varley herself. She had arrived late one evening, her sole luggage a dressing- bag. She announced that she was on her way to Biarritz, where she intended taking a villa for the winter, adding further that when she had decided on a suitable house, her servants would follow with the rest of her baggage. I had a long conversation with Mademoiselle Severine, an austere damsel of mature years, who presided at a desk behind the glass parti- tion secluding her from the public gaze in the entrance hall. She told me that she had been I much interested in the beautiful stranger, who had lived in the hotel for a week. 'I "Madame looked so pale and sad, so very sad, it was evident she was in deep mourning for someone dearly loved and regretted. I have often wondered if she can now be living in Biarritz." Z!l I enquired if Madamoiselle had seen the Eng- lish lady since she left the hotel. Mademoi- selle Severine shook her head. "No—it was disappointing. Madame had not told me she Was leaving us for good, you see. She prefer- red to settle up her account every morning, and one afternoon when she had gone out as usual, I received a Dote from her to say she would not be returning here. Stay, possibly I have her letter. I generally keep my correspondence from our patrons for future reference." She looked hastily through a file of letters hung up on a peg beside her, and presently exclaimed with triumph Yes, there it is. Look, Mon- sieur, doubtless you will recognise your friend's Writing." She held a sheet of paper towards me with these words written in Anne's firm hand;- Madame Clere will not require her rooms after to-day as she has decided to return this evening to Paris. Will Mademoiselle Severine kindly send the dressing bag to the railway sta- tion immediately on receiving this letter?" I expressed annoyance at having missed see- ing "my friend," adding Then you have no idea what Madame Clere's address would be after she left here?" Not the slightest notion, monsieur—but was it not very strange that Jeanne-Marie, the young girl who attended upon the lady here, should meet Madame the following day walking a.long the road to Anglet? Looking like death she was, so white and tired, as if she could not drag one foot after the other. Jeanne-Marie, INllo is good hearted—though careless like all j young girls—stopped to ask if she could not carry Madame's bag for her or help her in any way, for s],e seeme(j as jf she were fainting with fatigue. But Madame Clere only answered: 'I shall soon have rest!' and went on towards the Convent." The Convent!' 'I exclaimed. "Ah, yes! Monsieur has heard no doubt of j |he convent of Anglet, where the Bernardines tive it is famous." I nodded. Yes, I had heard. Then I thanked the manageress for the information, and took ^y leave. The Convent of the Beruardines," that living tomb of those unhappy ones doomed to perpetual silence and isolation from their fellow creatures! Was it possible that there T Anne's fierce spirit would be crushed in despair? Would her imperious will ever learn submission there or simply beat itself in unavailing anguish ?ud remorse against the bars of her cage? Was her life to be ended in this prison? Estella Inust know at once of the clue thus gained re- specting her sister's strange disappearance, and must act- decisively if she hoped to rescue the unhappy girlirom taking a step which would prove irrevocable. Once immured within the convent walls, and bound voluntarily by her ^ows to observe the stringent rules of the Order Anne Varley would be as completely dead to the j, Vforld and all it contained as if she herself had c-eased to exist. Late that same evening I reached St Jean de Luz. I found Estella with old Lady Maturin the latter was reading by a red-shaded lamp, and a bright fire of pine logs made the room I'!eem very home-like and cheerful, with the ruRnY familiar faces in photograph frames, and the innumerable nick-nacks and feminine im- pedimenta scattered about in every available corner. Estella was standing by one of the long unshutted windows, gazing out on the ex- panse of sea, which quivered like molten metal In the moonlight; far away to the left dark passes of cliff, sprinkled here and there with ^inkling lights, showed the dim outline of Spanish coast and mountains. Estella turned with a smile, and gave me her "and, saying: "I thought you might come to- higlit. Isn't it lovely here, and so peaceful." Her eyes shone with the trustful serenity of former days under the influence of this quiet Place, she had regained some of her former Peace of mind, and I had come as a messenger of ill to disturb it. With a woman's quick intuition she divined what was passing in my mind. „ "You have news:" she cried eagerly; then faltered, "Anne?" j Lady Maturin came to join in the inquiry, 5111 d soon I had told them the gist of my infor- I ration—leaving out part of Hazarden's confos- f and smoothing over his meeting with *Hne. While we were talking. Carmela Fort is il,me into the room, and Estella, excited with hat she had heard, hastened to say j Oh, Carmela, such news We believe Anne aKi °UI1C* a'^ 'ast- And she is quite near us prob- )'• Mr Stockwell thinks she is at Anglet, in le Bernardines' Convent." J Carmela's lips curled derisively. Anne in a convent!" She' gave a short. ''oiiical laugh. "What an incongruous idea, ou don't credit such a rumour. Mr Stoekwell 1" j dark eves shot sparks of fire at me when :r averred that I saw nothing at all incredible in the suggestion and Lady Maturin came to my ^Pport by declaring that such an action on I r'ne's part was both possible and probable. Jt'.may he by way of experiment," Lady to i i° as was also her decision j \<i eonie a boarder in M. Desquart's little 1l! ara"e *n ^mtzerland. He wrote to me often lv„°ut her while she was there the poor man Sai31 disquieted on her account, He that although she continually discussed re- 0<=i°n, and seemed anxious to obtain his opinion itt many spiritual matters, yet he could never '•$]> UCe • 'U'r a^en(l a sci'vice in his chapel. Jjj (^,Slu<l that she preferred to say her prayers the open air, in some lonely spot far up the jy ?ntain side. He believed her to be thorough- fl. earnest, bat he could not understand her stvf1.8 niind. Poor child, I think she was to fiml consolation, and I am afraid ij t{j^ J c'°ld"ess of both ritual and doctrine in 1 lss c-u,rcl1 not appeal to her ardent •W Perhaps now she is seeking for ^nJet "f °f nih)d She craved' in 1110 cof^nt at e>:es WCi'e suffused with tears, but iilo 10 kppt hers fixed upon me with a inock- 1 ignored t},e provocation she «y offered me to dispute, or-confirm 'Ladv Maturin's supposition, and only proposed in level tones that we should proceed the next morning to Anglet, and take advantage of the permission given to ordinary visitors to view the convent gardens and chapel. We might then obtain definite information as to Anne's pre- sence amongst the Bernardines. I was a little nettled by Carmela Forhs in- sisting on joining our party. I would have pre- ferred that the young lady, being so. completely out of sympathy with our mission, should have absented herself; she is actively hostile to Anne Varley, and certainly would upset any pacific arrangement we might try tomake. if we should manage to get into touch with the truant. She stuck close to Estella, with whom I found it Im- possible to get any private talk on our way to Anglet, We,.decided that the appearance of a man in the proximity of the convent might be disadvantageous to the success of our enterprise so I elected to remain at a distance outside the gates, and I spent the time wandering under the trees, and considering what our next move in this intricate game would be. At last I saw the three ladies returning to- wards me; Estella was ahead of her compan- ions, with cheeks flushed and eyes glistening. I knew what she had to say, even before her trembling lips had murmured to me from afar "Yes, she is there! We have found her." We walked back together to the little railway station, and she told me rapidly the story of her meeting with her sister. They had walked through the gardens, visited the quaint little chapel, with its black robed Madonna, and had stood for a few minutes in the bare refectory. Then their guide led them towards the queer outside cells, where formerly the silent women lived apart from each other. Lady Maturin was asking the leading question as to whether any foreigners ever sought admission to the Or- der, when suddenly Estella saw a figure moving slowly along an alley a.way from them. In spite of the loose white dress and disfiguring head- gear, she felt sure she reeognished the peculiar poise of the. head and erect carriage of the woman. Seeing that the nun who was: acting as their cicerone was entirely engrossed with Carmela and Lady Maturin, she slipped away and hurried towards the tall woman, who was just about to enter the convent; so convinced was she of Anne's identity (although she could not actually see her face, which was entirely covered save for the eye-holes) that she grasped the woman's arm. crying out: Anna, Nancy! dear Nance, speak to me." The woman gave a low cry, and stood still. I knew her eyes when she looked at me," Estella told me, and I clung to her, imploring her to speak to me ,to tell me why she had done this thing, why she had deserted me. Then Anne covered her face with her hand, and moaned as if in pain. I will write to you,' she whispered at last. Go away. and for God's sake leave me. Star! You don't know. you don't understand. But you shall know—I will explain, and then you will never wish to see me again. By this time the nun, who was conducting the visitors, had discovered Estella's defection, and she now hurried up to her, saying angrily that it was forbidden to address any of the Bernard- ines, and that she must come away at once. Es- tella had achieved her purpose, and she was content to be straightway ushered out of the convent gates. "It seems as if something beyond ordinary chance had directed. us in our search," she said finally. Surely the hand of God has led us here. I feel now as if a.ll responsibility were taken away from us, and that we have only to wait, just to wait, and nothing more. Do you remember the Bishop's words, What is to be. will be, and it is no good thinking of what might have been for it never could have been.' Her face was illumined as she spoke; and gazing at its loveliness, I repeated her last words over softly to myself— It is no good thinking of what might have been, for it never could have been." (End of Stockwell's Narrative.)

CHAPTER XVII.—ESTELLA CONTINUES HER STORY. This is what Nancy used to call a "blue day." Looking out from my balcony I feel as if I were simply surrounded by a sort of cerulean glory; the blueness is above me and below me, and all round me, even the air I breathe seems as if it must partake of the same ethereal colour. The sky has not a single cloudlet in it, and the daz- zling azure—such as one sees only in the South -almost blinds me when I look at it; even the sea has no tinge of green to-day, it is just a. glorious sapphire with sparkling facets scatter- ed here and there where the sun touches the laughing lips of the Atlantic. In the background the Pyrenees loom blue-black, shading away from lovely purple tints in the middle distance; the quiet land has veiled its sleeping face under a soft haze of greenish blue, and there is a drowsy hum which heralds the sudden warmth of an early Spring. On such a day as this, one should be happy, but my heart is heavy with grief, thinking of Anne, my proud, passionate, wrong-headed Nancy, eating her heart away in prison—for such it must surely be to one of her freedom- loving nature. How she used to revel in the sunshine In summer she was out of doors all day long, wandering in the meadows or orch- ards, disdaining any covering for her head, ex- cept her own beautiful hair—Nance never tan- ned or freckled like other girls, her smooth ivory skin never showed the slightest blemish no matter how hot the sun used to be. She lik- ed to lie amongst the sweet white clover, and drink in its honey scent, or sometimes I would find her, after a long search, nestled away in the forked branch of an old apple tree, watch- ing and listening with lazy enjoyment while the birds sang to her in their own domain. And now to think of her shut up within walls on such a day as this, dominated by routine- she, who could never endure the smallest re- straint or control. Oh, my poor foolish Nancy, into what depths of misery is your self-will leading you? It is many days now since I saw her in the convent garden. I shall never forget the look in her eyes, their hungry. feverish ex- pression will haunt me for ever; it was like a despairing cry from one condemned to death. Since then I have tried again and again to see her; I wrote both to her and to the Mother Superior. At last one day my importunity was rewarded. The door which had always been closed in my face was opened. I was "ushered along a dim corridor into a bare room. There a white-robed, white-faced nun received me. I took her at first to be the Reverend Mother, but she told me that she was Soeur Elizabeth, who had been deputed to see me by the Head of the Convent. What did I want? she asked. I told her that my request was a, most simple and natural one. I only wished to see and speak with my sister. Soeur Elizabeth regretted this was impossible. Apart from the regulations of the convent, which were very stringent on this subject, and even if the Reverend Mother had seen fit to relax them in my favour — yet she must refuse my request, as my sister utterly de- clined to see me. or in fact to hold converse with any person from the outside world. "Your Fister has joined us of her own free will, she claims the protection of our home, and shelter from a world grown distasteful to her, which she is steadfastly resolved never again to re- enter. Under these circumstances we consider ourselves bound to regard her wishes, and guard her from the intrusion of any visitors." I urged that for practical reasons, as well as those prompted by love for my sister, it was im- perative that I should see her. Our interests were bound up together, and we were joint owners of our home in England. It would be impossible for me to transact any business apart from my sister. The good nun listened atten- tively—she was impressed by my argument, which I had used at Brian Stockwell's sugges- tion. "I will tell your sister what you say—that isi all I can promise you at present,; I am sorry— indeed I am very sorry I can do no more." I saw her sympathy was genuine—and also that no matter how long I continued to press my re- quest to see Nancy it would be of no avail. There was no sign of yielding in the quiet, im- moveable face before me. So reluctantly I took v ■■ mm my departure after announcing my intention of writing a final protest to my sister. I. sent her. a piteous appeal, dwelling on our childhood together, and the love that I had al- ways.given her without stint. I reminded her of the time, years ago, when she lay at the; point of death, and I had nursed her night and day until all danger was passed. "You said to me then," I wrote, "I will never forget your goodness to me.' But have you forgotten, Nancy, not my goodness, but my love, which is as strong and heart-whole as it was for you then? Save for you, I am alone in the world, dear. Can. you separate yourself utterly from me without even a word of farewell. When we part from our dead, we lay a last kiss upon the cold lips and whisper, 'Good-bye, good-bye.' Do you grudge me this final consolation before my heart is left desolate. My appeal was not in vain. This morning her answer came in these' closely written sheets, headed "My Confession." I brought the letter out here, and read it sitting on my balcony, with all the signs of hope a.nd budding life around me. I thought when I saw Nancy's writ- ing on the envelope that here was the chrysalis, from which must emerge the winged messenger of peace and comfort. Alas, there is no life within this shroud of words—no life, no love, no hope, and my own soul seems numbed by the cold and cruel meaning of its contents. I will lay it here between the leaves of my book, where from time to time I have written down a record of my thoughts and feelings. Nancy's Confes- sion is part of my life's history—one of its sad- dest pages; just now it appears to me almost unintelligible, a foreign language which con- veys little real meaning to my mind. Perhaps in some. days to come I may be able to return to it, when if a clearer vision is vouchsafed to me, I may gain an insight into Nancy's intention and thought. Until then I will pass no judg- ment, I will try to feel no bitterness. I will only pray that peace of mind may be given to her, and that at last her heart may turn to me with the old love again. (To be Continued.)

WELSH ARCHEOLOGY. IMPORTANT MOVEMENT FOR SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH. The important scheme for the scientific ex- ploration of Roman and other archaeological sites in Wales Sncl the marches which have been initiated by a representative committee of Welsh men in conjunction with the Liverpool Univer- sity School of Archaeology was successfully launched on Thursday afternoon at a largely at- tended meeting, mostly of prominent represen- tatives of the Principality, at the Liverpool Town Hall. The Lord Mayor (Dr Richard Caton) presid- ed, and, himself a noted archaeologist, expressed warm sympathy with the movement. He moved that in the opinion of the meeting the time had come when the early history of Wales should re- ceive a full and systematic investigation, aided by all the resources of modern historical and archaeological science. Principal Sir John Rhys seconded, and re- ferred to the many known forts and Tumuli in Wales and the border country which were await- ing exploration. His own work ,he said, had been, as it were, only rubbing the moss off the stones, and it now remained for them to take in hand the greater and more systematic work of going below the surface and revealing the his- tory of Wales. So far Wales was actually with- out a reliable test book of its own early history to place in the schools, and one of the products of the research which must begin with archae- ology would be to produce such a book which would place the children of Wales on an equal footing with the children of England, Scotland, and Ireland. For lack of such an organisation as proposed, a number of people were digging in various parts of Wales, and in the full confi- dence of their ignorance they were destroying material which would be of untold value to the skilled archaeologist. In one spot in North Wales the sea was attacking an old ruin. and it was a pity that Neptiine should be the only ex- plorer. Professor Kuno Meyer, in supporting, said that the movement was a very wide revival, in- cluding as it did not only archaeology, but also history, language, and literature. Welshmen would no longer be content to accept the pre- juqiced Welsh version, but would interpret their historical characteristics themselves, with the assistance of those associated with them in the real scientific work. Mr Edward Owen, of the India Office, sup- ported, and the resolution was adopted. Sir Marchant Williams proposed the appoint- ment of a committee to carry out the preceding resolution. He remarked that there was no jealousy in the enterprise, and it was because the Welsh University were unable to take it up that the Liverpool University had stepped in. Colonel Mainwaring seconded, and Sir Ed- ward Russell, the Rev Aethwy Jones, Archdea- con Barber (Chester), and Owen Rhoscomyn (the organising secretary) spoke in support, ex- pressing the hope that the movement would en- list the wide-spread financial support of Welsh- men, and not be left to rely on the large dona- tions of a few rich men. The resolution was passed. Messages expressing cordial support of the movement were read from Lord Mc^tyn, Sir Harry Reichel, Professor Anwyl, Mr O. M. Ed- wards, and Sir John Williams.

FASHION AND THINGS FEMININE, BY MISS IDA MELLER. A WINTER COAT AND SKIRT COSTUME. One of the smartest and cosiest of modes for the winter is the long coat, which forms, is it were, a double skirt to the costume-bms ?< n- dered very warm and particularly suitable for travelling and for those who are obliged to be about in all weathers. The long costume-coat is of two distinct kinds, showing respe.•ti,'e.y Empire and ordinary waists. Tall women carry off either type to advantage, particularly Ulf long-waisted. tight-fitting coat, which looks very well both in cloth and velveteen, the skirt of the coat nicely fluted from the waist downw ards and the upper part arranged with a simple idl- collar that descends in an unbroken line to the bust. Costumes, for instance, after the fash- ion of our full-length illustration, the origins I coat and skirt being of navy-blue cloth, tr m- med with black silk braid, and a Prussian co'jar of astrachan. Regarding hats, those of blocked felt, with bowed brims and trimmings of feath- ers of the new bushy kind, are prime favourites and others that share honours are those with brims rolled back slightly in front and trim- med, perhaps, with quills and big bows of vel- vet. A binding 'of velvet is a great improve- ment to a felt hat and gives importance to the millinery. A VELVETEEN BLOUSE. With Christmas so near upon us a question that concerns a great many is what to wear for coming family gatherings and other friendly meetings. A dress of taffetas silk or velveteen will assuredly prove of the utmost service— china-blue taffetas, checked or otherwise, and green or golden brown velveteen suggesting themselves as eminently desirable for the pur- pose.. The bodices might advisedly be of the pinafore or kimono type ,or of the blouse" order, and as regards the latter, a velveteen model worth copying is sketched herewith. The blouse is cut low at the neck and filled in with a vest of spotted net, of which, also, the tight- fitting cuffs or undersleeves are composed; a band of guipure trims the neck, and is finished with a tie or scarf of crepe de chine, and the sleeves terminate at the elbows with bands of guipure. This blouse might, of course, be worn with a cloth or cashmere skirt, or, again, it might be made of taffetas eilk or soft satin. It is. however, extremely pretty carried out in dull turquoise-blue velvet or velveteen with guipure lace of an old mellow tone. Another blouse, also of velvet, worth mentioning, is pleated on the shoulders, the fronts falling in almost straight lines from thence to the waist and opening over a waistcoat of embroidered lace, the sleeves in this: instance being puffed to the elbows, and concluding with bands of lace matching the waistcoat, which, I should add. is cut out at the neck to a small point and filled in with plain net attached to a high col- lar-band of the same. A SIMPLE EVENING BODICE. For evening festivities, when a decollete bodice is required, our remaining sketch may prove of service, as offering a suggestion on how to make up soft silk or satin in a simple, effective fashion. The bodice is cut, in the first instance, with extra-wide fronts, and these are turned back to form natural, deep laurels, j faced with their own material embroidered in pearls or tiny paillettes. A charming scheme is pale pink Oriental satin, embroidered lightly with golden paillettes. At the bust is a I ehou of satin and above it a small chemisette of -1 1 11; I I

pink or white chiffon headed by a band of lace, while the puffed sleeves are arranged with bracelets of lace or paiRetted satin. Should there not be sufficient of the dress material to make the sleeves these latter might be of white or pink chiffon, agreeing with the chemisette. The bodice should, of course, be of the skirt material. PERFUMES. The use of perfumes is of very ancient origin, j The.Hebrews and Eastern nations of old knew very well the medicinal value of certain anoint- ing oils and perfumes, and we hear of sugh things as myrrh, cinnamon, sweet calamus. frankincense, and cassia from Biblical times. Afterwards they were highly esteemed by the 0 Greeks and Romans, who imported the most precious oils and spices from Syria and India. Attar of roses, the sweetest and most precious of perfumes, comes from the East, and the fete held there in honour of the roses is described thus by a poet: But never yet. by night or day. j In dew of spring or summer ray. Did the sweet valley look so gay As now it shines, all love and light. Visions by day and feasts by night! A happier smile illumes each brow. With quicker spread each heart uncloses. And all is ecstasy—for now The valley holds its feast of roses! SWEET COFFERS AND POMANDERS. Perfumes were never richer, more elaborate, or costly, perhaps,, than in Queen Elizabeth's day. Her Majesty's taste for scent wa.s pecu- liarly fine, and in the royal apartments were sweet coffers impregnated with some favour- ite odour. These coffers were considered a ne- cessary part of the furniture of state chambers, and their form and richness were matters of mo- ment. The bottles of perfume connected with the common business of the toilet were called casting bottles," and the pomander, which originally was meant as a preventive of infec- tion, just .as we use the camphor ball to-day. became an article of fashionable luxury amongst people of rank. It was really a little ball of perfumed paste, worn in the pocket or hung round the neck. and became fashionable as a gift, and was set with costly gems. Many pom- anders were presented to Elizabeth as new year's gifts, and among the list enumerated by an old chronicler is the somewhat puzzling item a favre gyrdle of pomander," by which we can only gather that a perfumed girdle is in- tended. There were various economical ways of resus- citating the virtue of a pomander when the per- fume was weakened by time. In one work we are told that six grains of musk, ground with rose water, and tempered with a little civet, shall fetch 'her' again presently." Queen Elizabeth had a cloak of Spanish per- fumed leather, and even her shoes and gloves were scented. MINCEMEAT. The season has come round again when mince meat making is being discussed and recipes for the same hunted up. The following is recom- mended as excellent, and the young housekeeper with an eye to Christmas fare may care to jot it down in her notebook. Take one pound each of suet, currants, stoned rasins, and sugar, two large apples, one lemon, a quarter of a pound of candied peel, half a nutmeg, a quarter of a pound of bread crumbs, a pinch of salt. and one gill of cooking brandy or rum. Peel, core, and chop the apples, grate the rind of the lemon (also the nutmeg), squeeze out the juice, and chop up the suet and raisins. Mix all together with a wooden spoon and squeeze the whole with the hand until thoroughly incorporated. Put up the mincemeat in pots and tie down with brandy paper. ORANGE AND LEMON SPONGE. Lemon sponge is a favourite sweet with :il- dren and quite wholesome. It makes a pretty dish for parties, and is easily made. Take the juice and rind of two lemons, loz. of gelatine dissolved in one pint of water, 3oz. of loaf sugar rubbed on the rind of the fruit (this is better than peeling the latter), and stir all over the fire in an enamel saucepan until the sugar and gelatine are dissolved. Then pour the mixture into a basin, and when cool add the whites of three eggs stiffly whipped, and beat the whole till it is light and frothy. The sponge may be served turned out from a mould or merely ar- ranged roekily in a glass dish. Orange flav- ouring may be substituted for lemon, if pre- ferred. HOME HINTS. A Hint in Stoning Rasins.—Rub a little but- ter on the fingers, and on the knife (if a knife is used). It will prevent stickiness. Fire-balls.—To economise coal, by using up coal dust, proceed thus:—Tear up some old newspapers a.nd soak them in water. Form them into hard balls. dip these in coal dust, and let them dry. Then sprinkle, charily, a little para- ffin over the balls, and roll them again in coal dust. Finally dry them well in the air. Cleaning Oil Stoves.—In cleaning oil stoves use a small gum brush. This will pass easily into minute crevices, and does its work thor- oughly. To Remove a Musty Odour from a Teapot.- A teapot that has stood by unused for a period often incurs a musty smell. To avoid this, put a, pinch of tea-leaves in the pot. THOUGHTS FOR THE WEEK. All that we require for our spiritual life is given us, and the rest is in our ha.nds. The highest, clearest, truest which man can see and contemplate, that is for him the truth. The misfortunes and misery of mankind arise less from an ignorance of duty than from a mis- conception of duty.-Tolstoy. Faith is the force of life. The true office of faith is to give a meaning to life which the fact of death cannot destroy. Power dwells with cheerfulness; hope puts us in a working mood; whilst despair is no muse, and untunes the active powers.—Emerson. The earth is sown with pleasures, as the heavens are studded with stars', wherever the conditions of existence are unsophisticated. --=-410. ABERDOVEY. TKMPKRANCB.—Th« weekly meetinssr of this sooiafy was held on Sunday evening, MrJ. EvaD8 in the chair. Addtorsea were rlelivered by the Iters Evan", Birmingham and Lloyd OweD, M.C., Bon(dda, Dolg^lluy. Miss Jane Laura Daviea gave a solo and Master Llewellyn Owen rendered recitation. 1 WKSLifT Gcild.—On Wednesday evening the members meet at the We&levan Chapel under the presidency of Mr E. L. Rowlands, J.P. The following raperg were read,—"Conversion of Saul", by Mr J. ldtis Owen "Life of Gipsy Smith", by MisstJane L. Davirs and "Twelve Welsh books by Weslayan ant.horR", by Mr D. C Davies. Comments were passed by Messrs 11. Griffiths, Lewis Edwards, nd W. Spooid-y. A vote of thanks to the several readers waii proposed by Mr J. ¡AI.: Jones 'and seconded by Mrs James Lewis. MONTGOMERY CKIOKET CLUB CONCERT. A very successful concert in aid of the funds of the Cricket Club was held in the Town Hall on Wednesday evening. There was an excel- lent attendance, and the chair was taken by the captain of the club (Mr C. S. Pryce), in the ab- sence of the Mayor who was away and there- fore unable to attend. The programme opened with a pianoforte duet by Mrs Bunner and Miss Ruth Williams, which was very much enjoyed. Miss Cissie Jones (Rockley) sang the charming song" Queen of Angels" in the most perfect manner. Mr W. E. Palmer followed with Sweet eyes of Dine," and gave a nice render- ing. The next song was" Love's Coronation by Miss Kitty Powell, for which she obtained a, well-deserved encore. Mr Andrew Withers fol- lowed with that well-known composition Thy Knight (Coleman), and in response to a vocif- erous encore sang "The Radiant Morn." Tha next item was one of the most pleasing of the evening being a dance by Miss Noel Pryce, tlta young and talented daughter of the worthy cap- tain of the club (Mr C. S. Pryce). for which shEf gained a rapturous encore. This was followed by a comic sketch by Mr and Mrs Walter Jonca entitled Packing up." Both sustained their characters extremely well. and the performance created roars of laughter, and was very highly appreciated. Mr W. Sinclair Jones, of Welsh- pool, who has never before sang in the county town, met with a splendid reception in his song There's a land," which was given perfectly, his intonation being excellent, and, in response to an encore sang "Father o' Flynn." Miss Cie- sie Jones followed with." Thora," which she- sang in a veiv sweet manner and obtained a hearty encore. Mr Andrew Withers gave The Noble Boy of Truth" very finely, and he was followed by Miss Millie Jones, who sang" The Carnival" in a most perfect voice. The con- cluding item of the first part of the programme was a song Lighterman Tom by Mr Sinclair Jones, which he gave in capital style, and on being encored sang Lucky Jim." During the interval Messrs W. J. Jones and W. E. Palmer gave a. comic duet entitled "I would, I would which was greatly enjoyed, the local "hits" be- ing very amusing. Part 2 consisted of a most. interesting and highly amusing farce entitled "lei on Parle Franeais." performed by the mem- bers of the Montgomery Amateur Dramatic Company. The new scenery, which had been made and decorated by Messrs J. J. Powell and W. E. Palmer, with the assistance of Messrs T. H. Evans and C. G. Statham, was really beauti- ful, and gave a most pleasing effec-t to the farce. Each of the actors performed their parts in a. first class manner, and to individualise would be impossible. From start to finish the audience were quite enraptured, and it is agreed on all hands that nothing like it has ever been given in Montgomery previously. The following was the caste:—-Mr Alpheus Spriggins (landlord). Mr Walter Jones; Major Regulus Rattan (late of Cape Coast Slashers), Mr J. J. Powell; Vic- tor Dubois, (a Frenchman), Mr W. E. Palmer; Mr B. Ookworm (book agent), Mr Hugh Powell; Mrs Spriggins (landlady), Mrs Walter Jones; Angelina (her daughter), Mrs J. E. Tomley; Julia (wife of Major Rattan), Miss Rhoda. Owen; Anna Maria (maid of all work), Mrs R. H. Bunner; Pauline Quilldriver a.nd Laura. Votem (women suffragists). Miss K. Powell and Mrs J. J. Powell. The Rector (the Rev J. C. Whall) proposed a hearty vote of thanks to all who had taken part. Councillor C. Davies (vice-captain of the club) seconded, and the mo- tion was carried with acclamation. A very en- joyable evening closed with the National" An- them. —— SIR LEWIS MOHRIS. MEMORIA IN ETERNA." Death claim < i lie. Poet, not the Name— He lea7es u> livn in heart?, his fome— While his yreot sou!, aflame with genius bright, Wings its way npwaid, to yon golden light. In r< gions far beyond our finite kcD- Low at God's feet, he lays hi3 laurt I crown—and then Receives the diadem-a.bove this -world's rerown. It is not râght-thrJ' dark the way To difct-snt st,ores of endless day-- Where, Spirir limitless, and uneonfined has space- To ope' like a flower before the Maker's face- The vital spttrk in heaven ne'er can die 'Twill breathe yet grander strains to God on higb. lie is not cleRd-hut in transition's sleep While loved ones wtltch his still form ar d weep, His eyes behold the rosieatn dawn of !ife immortal- The Htory, t i.' argelic best thro' Heaven'* portal. Unfilled, the void his pasf-ir.g hence has left The world of brightest ornament bereft, And those who knew Hm loved from fame apart, The man — his noble nature, and his kindly heart. Wales, laud or h:s birth thy suearns end moustAins aid inspire » Onr greatest Poet with poetio fire, Pioud'y you claim him—eadly yon deplore That lhn/ well loved hill and dale he'll wander- never more; Gifted-a wide world homage he has snrsly won E'er Lis um srt his task wag sb'y done, Although his lips are silent, yet his works will ppetik— Their beauty te; ch men higher aims to seek. ALICIA CBARLOTIK Mosaic*. Dmas Mawddwy, NOT. 18, 1907. DOLGELLEY. FAIR. The annual November fair (horses anct cattle) was held on Friday. i?ALE—Mestrs Daniel, Son and Co., held an, important sale by public auction of household furniture at Tyr.ycoed, Arthog, the reaideuoe of the Rev M. E. Welby, M.A. There was a largfr attendance and good prices were realised. GxxMostTT.-DrJ. Myles has kindly presented 9 trle Institute library with twenty six volumes. AMBCLAKCE. The first class of the seasoll was held on Monday night week. Dr MJlea is the lecturer, LITSRAITY SOCIETIES.—A lecture way di-livered at Judah Baptist Chapel or, Tuesday by the Rev Moses Roberts, LlansolleH, on The 'training of the mind.On Thursiay night, the Ref" A. Tlhomis, Johnctowu, addresaed a meeting at the English Congregational Church Schoolroom. The subject; dealt upon was The elements of trae flÍoud..hifi." SCHOLASTIC Amongst the ■tuden's whoreceired th»ir B.A degrae at Aberystwyth on Friday Mr A. J. Glyn Edward*, Kiriaufa. Mr A. J. Glyn Edwards, Kiriaufa. WTOD-HG.-A marriage was solemnised at tha Paush Church, Baiavrayo. Rhodesia, on Wednei- £ y" • correcting partieg Cb&Ijeg Ernegfc (Ernie) third ton of ifr John Wordsworth, late of Mount Pleasant, Dolgelley, and Mar*a-*t daaarhter of the late Mr J. E Lay ton, Bala warn,