Weekly Mail

A CONFESSION. Most men would hesitate at telling such a story of themselves. But I am convinced that it will afford a. suggestion of mercy toward such as do fall, and some may be turned away from tempta- tion by its recital. I had been an under clerk in a large establishment for many years. Naturally economical, my savings had attained to such a respectable sum that I ventured upon married life, quite as much as a refuge from the monotony of my inexpensive style of living as in obedience to those yearnings of nature which a man is either very foolish or very bad not to heed in due season. Like most men, however, whose adventures of this kind are not followed by the comfort and ease which depend upon money for their possession, in the course of time I came to repent the under- taking for I was in debt, and my family had increased, while my income had not kept pace with my expenses. My wife lacked the courage to practice the proper self-denial which would he consequent upon a retrenchment of our expenses. I was daily annoyed by duns. I had borrowed money in every available quarter, and a walk in the public streets was litarally denied to me by the fear of encountering someone to whom I was in debt for house expenses. Returning home late one night, jaded by a list- less stroll through the town, I found the junior member of the firm awaiting me. The house had received intelligence, after business hours, of » transaction entered into on their account, which required the immediate transmission to an isolated inland town of several thousand dollars, together with certain papers and statements necessary to conclude the affair. It was too important a matter to be entrusted to the insecurity and uncertainty of the mail. Upon a consultation of the members of the firm I had been selected to perform the necessary two days' journey. 1 ac- cepted the mission with alacrity, for the reason, among others, that it would be such a recreation as would divert my thoughts for a time from the perplexities of my miserable condition. With the usual foresight of the firm, everything necessary to my prompt departure had been pre- arranged. The needful papers and accounts, and the indispensable money required to finish the transactions wore placed in my hands in an enve- lope addressed to the gentleman who had acted as agent of the concern in the matter. A letter of instructions was also enclosed. I remember well the bright September morning, on which I started on Horseback and alone on my journey, of which I accomplished half the first day, arriving at a farmhouse, whose occupants unhesi- tatingly granted my petition for a share for the night in its humble hospitality. The weather had grown colder as the evening came on, and by the time I had readied the house I experienced a sensible chill. I had with me a flask of liquor, and was furnished, at my request, at bed time, with a small quantity of hot wit/>v, with which to compound a sort of punch, as an antidote to the cold I apprehended having taken. ] had removed the package of money from my pocket, and laid it on the table, with a view of putting it under my piiiow before going to bed. As it lay on the table the address was uppermost, on the left hand corner was a memorandum, "$5,000 enclosed." I was standing with my back to the door. Succeeding a few moments of entire silence, 1 heard a step behind me, and, I almost thought, a breath upon my face. Turning sud- denly round, I beheld my host with the hot water I had called for in a tumbler in his hand. He was quite beside me, and his eyes rested, or I fancied they rested, on the package .upon the table. I must confess I was sensibly startled by this incident. My concern was not diminished by observing that he had removed his boots from his feet, and was then standing as he had come up, in his stockings. My first impulse and act was to take the water out of his hand. Not being quite ready to use it, I put the envelope of money on the top of it as the most convenient thing to keep it hot. I did not turn the superscription downward, because I feared it would betray the suspicion which I now positively entertained, of evil inten- tions on the part of my entertainer, who had quitted the room as noiselessly as he had entered. I imagined a great many ways in which he could have become acquainted with the cause of my journey, and came rapidly to the conclusion that my employers' funds were in danger. That they were actually so became evident before the night had passed. I recalled the man's countenance vividly to my recollection, and examined from memory his features,so as to make some estimate of the character with which I had to deal. Physically he was more than my equal. When I first alighted at the house it struck me I had seen him before, and after some moments of further and profound reiiection, I distinctly recalled him to my mind as a merchant who had dealt with our firm, during my earlier connection with it, and who had failed through the dishonesty of friends whom he had assisted. I remembered him as having been spoken of as disgusted with trade, and as having sought a home in the wilderness with his family, and earning a living, literally, by the sweat of his brow. There were but two bedrooms in the house, both on the same floor, a passage which commenced at the head of the stairs dividing them. While the thoughts which I have related were passing through my mind I heard voices in the other bedroom, and quietly opened my door, which my host had closed behind him. Standing out in the passage I could distinguish a man's and woman's voice. At first their language was unin- telligible, but gradually my ear became accus- tomed to the duty I endeavoured to put it to, and I could distinguish that the burden of their talk was their domestic expenses, and the general cur- rent of their thoughts was the difficulty of getting through with certain undertakings they had in contemplation or had commenced. It was evident that the man was more hopeful than the woman. My excited imagination at once framed the theory that the treasure in my possession was designed by them to solve this difficulty, and that the reluctant man was being urged on by the less scrupulous or bravor woman. A sudden movement of one of them toward the door caused me to retreat into my room. I heard the bolt of their door moved, and supposing it was to unfasten it, I hurried back into my own apart- ment and caught at the envelope, intending to hasten it out of sight. In my eagerness to grasp it, it fell off the tumbler with the wafered side uppermost and opened The wafers had been so far dissolved by the heat and moisture as to split in two, leaving one-half of each (there were three) on the flap, and the other half of ea.ch on the body of the envelope. Meanwhile, there was no sign or sound of an inroad into my room, of which 1 had seen it was impossible to fasten the door save by moving gome of the furniture against it. I became convinced that as yet everything was safe, and yielding to a feeling of curiosity, I drew the money from the enclosure and counted it over. There were ten one-thousand-dollar bills! I was astounded, and for the time forgot the fear that so recently harassed me. I looked at the memo- randum on the back of the envelope. It was §5,000." The letter was opened before me. I read it over. It named$5,000 as the sum enclosed. There was evidently an error, I counted it over again. Ton thousand dollars was the sum before me Again and again I counted it. I had been URed to handling large sums, and counting large sums of money daily; but I actually found more difficulty in arriving at the actual count of ten bank bills before me than I ever before or since encountered in counting any sum, however large or however numerous the noles. Finally, putting a chair against the door, I spread the notes out singly on the little table, in a row, and counted them with my finger. Then I made two rows of five notes each and again counted them then five rows of two each and counted them. I finally, though slowly, became satisfied that I ha.d in my possession double the amount of money I was expected to deliver to my employers' agent. Temptation entered my soul. Five thousand dollars would relieve me of all my debts. Here it was within my grasp. I had but to seal up the envelope by re-Vetting the wafers, enclosing but half the money, and deliver it saaled to the agent, and my trust would be, to all appear- ance, faithfully discharged. Once the thought occurred that possibly it was a trap set for me by my employers. But their confidence in me was unbounded, and the suspicicn was formed only to be dismissed. I do not attempt to glaze over the dishonesty of what 1 contemplated. Rut I had been so unceasingly worried by domestic troubles arising from limited resources, and so persecuted by creditors, that I almost argued myself into the conviction that appropriating the money was simply authorised self-defence. I would pay all my debts, get clear with the world once more, in- sist upon my wife's adopting my views of living, save money, get into business for myself and finally pay back the sum. I concluded to leave the envelope unfastened till the morning, so as to give myself that much more time before finally deciding upon an act which all my arguments with myself had not made entirely reconcilable. Arrived at this conclusion my atten- tion again turned to my host and his wife. I could hear his voice alone now. It had been sounding alone in an elevated tone for some moments. I crept quietly to the partition dividing their apart- ment from the passage. The bright autumn moon, which was on their side of the house, shone through their window and through the spaces between the shrunken planks of the partition, and out into the passage and upon its floor in brilliant bars of light. It was easy for me to see what was passing within the room. Man and wife were kneeling at their bedside in prayer. The ma.n with uplifted head and closed eyes, uttering an earnest supplication, his wife beside hini, and one arm passed affectionately through one of his, and her head resting against his breast. They were kneel- ing at the side ot their bed opposite me, and his face was plainly visible. Its calm and pious ex- pression at the moment was a sufficient rebuke to my unjust suspicions. I began to listen in time to hear him say: Pardon, 0 merciful Father, not only the sins of Thy humble servant and his household, but turn the hearts of those who have done evil unto him, who have wished him injury, and who harboured unjust suspicions of him. Bless such, 0 Lord, and preserve them in order that they may turn from their ways and seek the path of righteousness." His serious, earnest and manly voice sttuck a chord in my heart, not only in sympathy with the honest and tender supplication that was passing from his lips, but contrition for the wrong I had done him by my suspicions. I involuntarily com- pared him, whatever were his good or bad deeds, at least an humble penitent before his God, with the wretch that I had decided but a few moments ago to make of myself, by the misappropriation of my employers' money, and still, however, by the relief it could obtain for me, would not quite give way to the feeling of repentance which was knock- ing for admission at my breast. I had half decided to turn away and drive these better thoughts from my mind, when I observed something moving in a small crib that was placed at the side and toward the foot of their bed. Its occupant, a grandchild, whose parents they had informed me were dead, awakened probably by its grandfather's voice, rose up, looked around, and settled down upon its knees, and clasping its little hands as its grandfather's were clasped, and looking upward, out through the wmdow. at the moon, whose bright light, fell full upon its darling face, began moving its lips as if trying to repeat the words. Nothing so like an angel ever met my sight. The grandfather began the Lord's prayer. The little fellow seemed to have this by heart.. He repeated it word for word, his tiny, silvery voice ascending in sweet accord. I could not turn away, nor any longer resist the better emotions which I had hitherto kept down. A rush of repentant feeling passed through me with an effect that shook every fibre. I fell upon my knees, and with tears streaming from my eyes, joined in the concluding words of the prayer. I need not say I changed my mind with regard to the money. I passed a quiet night and rose early, hastening away toward my journey's end, so as to give myself the least possible time or opportunity for changing my new-formed resolu- tion. In handing the packet to the agent I said to him, that as there was money in it, it might as well be opened in my presence to see that it was all correct, &c. He, of course, discovered the error and handed me back the amount that was over, With which I returned home and delivered it up to its proper owners in due time. It was fortunate for me in every way that I pursued course I had adopted. It appeared that the money had been obtained from the bank after bank hours, in the absence of the teller, from one of the officers. There were no loose notes on hand of larger denominations, but there were sheets of thousands and fivb. hundreds signed by the president and cashier. Either two sheets were picked up in mistake for one, or the wrong batch of sheets selected from—that is thousands wer; taken instead of five hundreds. The notes were hurriedly clipped, strapped, and endorsed 85,000,"without recounting, and so enveloped and returned to mo. The bank had discovered the error, and no doubt was entertained but that the missing money was still with me. Whether I should have the face to withstand the imputation, even with the apparently undisturbed condition of the envelope in my favour, is more than I can say, but I doubt it. But tho notes, in pursuance of a precaution still in use at some of the banks, wero payable to the order of one of tlia clerks and had not been i endorsed by him. I could not, therefore, tiav, .1 used them, or, if so, they could have been traced back to I found also that the numbers had been carefully ascertained of all I had taken with m, and thus another chance of detection existed. What an escape! Upon returning and entering the counting-room I handed the sifrplus back to my senior, with a feeling somewhat of pride, but mixed up with other feelings not easily described. My precaution of having the money opened by the agent in my presence wat: highly commended, and the possibility of his misappropriating the un- due amount, as very little personal knowledge of him was possessed by the firm, was duly discussed. What was caid on this point brought blushes to my own cheeks. In course of time my senior accountant wis taken into th firm. I was put in his position, and with hio salary I saved money, finally got into business on my own account, and "m as you know. rich. I never forgot my former host and his grandchild; but at the death of the former I took charge of the boy. He is now my partner, and the husband of my daughter.

ODD HOURS WITH ODD PEOPLE. Bv THE REV. F. WAGSTAFF, F.R.H.S. INTRODUCTORY. 1 Th.) literature of eccentricity forms library or itself. If mental derangement and absolute insanity be taken into account, as well aj what may be termed mere mental obliquity, the subject assumes gigaatic proportions. These matters, however, lie beyond the scope of our present design, which is to deal with that border- land lying between sanity and insanity and the illustrative examples we propose to bring before our readers will mostly be taken from some part of that neutral ground. But as the boundaries that divide the sane from the insane are in many respects hard to define, and as much that passes for eccentricity under certain circumstances must be regarded in a graver light under other condi- tions, a few preliminary remarks seem to be need- ful by way of introduction to what will, we trust, prove a. source of considerable entertainment to m&ny. Monomania" is a. term used to designate cases of partial mental derangement. It implies that the person afflicted is deranged only on one subject, or in reference to one object, or in one par- ticular train of thought or faculty of thinking, and that his intellect, judgment, and emotions are otherwise sound." Such a definition, however, can scarcely be regarded aj very accurate. It is to be doubted whether medical experience has ever met with an instance in which the patient has possessed a mind perfectly sound except in one particular. Circumstances may, indeed, tend to the development of tha incipient insanity in such a fashion as to lead a superficial observer to conclude that it is confined to one subject. Tho very prominence given to the special delusion has a tendency to throw into tha shade other peculia- rities, which thus escape notice, and the patient's friends accustom themselves to say, "Ah! poor fellow, he's sane enough on everything else." Thus, too, both the sufferer and his attendants have their attention increasingly drawn to the one prominent symptom by which the nascent insanity was first detected; and the disease is, so to speak, fed by the very measures adopted for its repression. Still, the term monomania" may be properly employed when there is any one morbid impulse or delusion sufficiently prominent to form the characteristic feature of the case. Melancholia is a term more specially appli- cable to tho mental disorder from which numbers of persons suffer, who are yet so far from being regarded as insane that they are frequently left unguarded and unwatohed till serious results have ensued. Much that passes for mere eccen- tricity may, in reality, bo an unsuspected form of this mental disorder. Persons so affected are extremely sensitive to external impressions, alarmed by the slightest cause, irritable, and im- patient of interference. They convert everything into a new source of distress, and dwell without ceasing upon their misery, their fears, and their sufferings. Melancholia may exist as a variety of moral insanity, or insanity without delirium. There may be no false belief, no delusion but an abstract gloom, deep and rooted melancholy, and an inexplicable, but helpless, feeling of wretched- ness, a loathing of everything, even of life itsolf, and an anxious craving for death. Such is the not uncommon belief in eternal perdition that the per- son has himself been the cause of ruin and misery to his family; that he has brought judgments and ■punishment on the whole human race or that he has committed an unpardonable sin, and is already suffering the pains of lost souls. Such delusions are sometimes not incompatible with the dis- charge of the ordinary duties of life. The cele- brated Robert Brown, at a time when all his powers of mind seemed to be in full exercise, believed that his soul was annihilated, and that instinct—common to him and to the brute creation —was alone left to him. Cowper, the poet believed that he alone of all human beings was ex- cluded from the vicarious merits of our Saviour's sufferings. Such states of mind are those most frequently accompanied by a disposition to com- mit suicide, a morbid impulse unaccompanied by any delusion, or the morbid dread of some approaching calamity. Not unfrequently these, as well as varieties of monomania, are associated with hallucinations of the senses. The persons affected hear voices threatening them with approaching doom or they see objects of terror visions of departed friends, or of demons. however, are the advanced stages of mental disease, far removed from the conditions to which we refer when we speak of mere eccentricity. Dr. Gooch relates the case of a lady who, in con- sequence of an alarm of fire, believed she was the Virgin Mary, and that her head was constantly surrounded by a brilliant halo. Dr. Unwin gives an account of an intellectual youngeentlemen who, from some morbid association with the idea of an elephant, was seized with severe spasms whenever the word" elephant was spoken, or even written in his presence. A similar case is told of a gentle- man who, on narrowly escaping from the earth. quake at Lisbon, fell into a state of delirium when- ever the word earthquake chanced to be pro- nounced in his presence. The Rev. John Mason, of Water Stratford, Bucks, grandfather of the author of the famous essay on Self Knowledge." evinced in everytlllng else the signs of a sound judgment except that he believed, he was Elias, and foretold the advent of Christ, who was to commence the millennium at Stratford. A patient at the Friends, Retreat, at York, thought he had neither soul heart, nor lungs, and there was once a tradesman who fancied he was a seven-shilling piece, and advertised himself thus:—if my wife presents me for payment, don't change me!" Bishop War- burton tells UJ of a man who thought he was a "goose-pie"; and Dr. Ferriday, of Manchester, had a patient who believed that he had swallowed the devil. In Paris there once lived a man who imagined that he had been guillotined during the terribl? times of tho first French Revolution,and that when Napoleon 1. became emperor he and others had their heads restored to them, but that in the r-cramble he had somehow got the wrong one Marcue Donatus relates that one Vicentlnug believed himself too large to pass one of his door- ways. To dispel this illusion, it was resolved by his physician that he should be dragged through the aperture by force. This direction was obeyed but as he was forced along, Vicentinus screamed out in agony that his limbs were fractured and the fleah torn from his bones. In this dreadful delusion, with terrific imprecations against his murderers, he died. We need not stay to cite further illustrations of the results of a. disturbed mental balance. The cases mentioned above were clearly all of them such as should be classed among one or other of tho many varieties of insanity, yet some of them were probably regarded by most of those to whom they were known as mere eccentricities. Some of the odd people," to whom, in subsequent articles, we shall introduce the reader, might possibly be regarded in the same vague and indefinite light. Dr. Maudsley, in his famous work on "The physiology and Pathology of Mind," well indicates the difference between the inaane temperament and eccentricity. A question sometimes arises in civil and criminal trials as to the distinction between eccentricity and insanity—the attempt, perhaps, being made to prove an eccentric person to be insane, or to prove an insane person to be only eccentric. Now, between genuine eccentricity of character and insanity there is a wide difference; the confounding of them can only proceed from a slavish conformity to that fashion of thought and action through which the original man of any epoch is GO apt to bo thought mad. The truly eccentric man has a strong individuality, which is expressed in all his doings, and stamps them clearly." Bv the word" eccentric" Dr. Maudsley hero evidently intends a man of higher mental and moral power than those generally bearing that designation, and these sentences should be read carefully by the side of those in which he after- wards speaks of an affectation of eccentricity." He has but little vanity," he proceeds, for he is emancipated from vulgar prejudice, and heeds not the world's prais" or censur- He knows that the world ever censured great woras at their birth, would gladly have uprooted them during their early growth, and he is not, therefore, greatly moved by its multitudinous outcry. He has broad and original views, and great moral courage. He differs from the majority, perhaps, because he has ouigrown the habits and supersti- tions to which it is in bondage. Such a man haw notning insane about him, nor he ever likely to become insane. There is, however, a v.eak affecta- tion of eccentricity which i" not unlikely to end in madness. With it infested certain feeble- minded beings, often badly-bred, or badly trained, who empty or any true individuality, but iDilated v. ith an excessive :anity; who have a small intellect which they use in the service of their passions woo do silly and eccentricthing", not unconaciouah the spontaneous expression oi their nature, but out of a morbid craving to -ttract llotJCG; and who represent a condition 01 wntil derangement, that is the forerunner of in.i.ivc, qoUE. I.— ODIHTIES IS LOVR. Man- ol tlK most remarkable illustrations Oi eccentric conduct are ease* in which the "tender passion piaya i conspi uous part. Prom a iium. I ber of these we select a few, premium;, 'hat UI peculiarity of the circumstance* will mSra oban compensate for the length of the narrativ*. 'fh*1 fix-it instance. v.ar-ien Oick to the «eveateench century..U~ AO20, there itu born Northamptonshire, of ..t. «i.oepiaker. iindr«/.v Sellwooe. \7as educated beyond generality of tha youths o hÎ3 age, aud bavins turn for mechanics and harmony, the young mail constructed a rude sort of barrel organ, wnich ne exhibited before the family of Sir Raiph Brisbane. None of the company seem to nave given him any encouragement, except the baronet'o daughter, Lucy, whose words, doubtles- inteuaea to do no more than applaud his mechanical genius, fairly sent the poor fellow's wits wool-gathering for the rest of his days. He ran awsy to sea, served with courage in tho navy, afterwards entered the army, commanded a body of horso under Prince Rupert, and so distinguished himseif at the assault upon Donnington Castk that Charles II. knighted him on the field of battle. Being wounded, however, he was disqualified for further service, and left the army. Meanwhile, through an unexpected inheritance on his mother's sido, he had come into the possession of an estate of some £50,000, on which, had he been so disposed, he might have maintained the position of a landed proprietor. But love for Lucy Brisbane, whom he had neither seen nor heard of since he was a poor youth, led him to adopt a singulac course of con- duct. Miss Brisbane had long been married to Sir Arthur Fuller, who, at this time, was in want of a groom. For this post Sir Andrew Sellwood, suit- ably disguised, applied; and, it is said, he "e- mained for fourteen years unsuspected in the service of the family. After the Restoration, Fuller, though a Royalist, contrived to get mixed up with some of the many plots of that unsettled time, and a warrant was issued for his apprehen- sion on a charge of treason. Sellwood, who was now serving as butler, so contrived matters that, when the officers appeared to apprehend his master, he was himself handed over to them as the rebel baronet, and in that character was actually arraigned at the Old Bailey! The story goes that Prince Rupert chanced to be in court, and his recognition of his old companion in arms led to the exposure of the pretty scheme. When it was found that the real delinquent had escaped to France with his wife, with money supplied by Sir Andrew, the latter was tried and convicted of "misprison of treason," and died soon afterwards in gaol. The Public Ledger thus announced his end Sir Andrew Sellwood, knight, died yester- day in the governor's apartments, Negate. Th curious revelations that came out upon his trial are still fresh in the public memory. He was a good, gallant, but singularly eccentric gentleman. He was, no doubt, crazed by love—an early love— very rare instance." Another knight is the hero of a still more singular story of love and oddity. Sir Samual Smith, an attorney, who was knighted for services rendered in the great law case, Throgmorton v. the Earl of Bute," was stolen in his childhood, and could give no other account of himself than that his name was Sammy Smith." Running away from his captors, who had treated him brutally, the poor child was injured in the street, and carried to St. Bartholomew's Hospital. A kind-hearted nurse took a faccy to the friendless child, and he was adopted by her and her husband. As he grew up he often accom- panied his foster-mother to the hospital, and dis- played great assiduity as a volunteer attendant upon the sick. In this way he chanced to render great service to a solicitor named Firmin, by whom he was employed first as a copying clerk, and then in a. capacity which led to Smith being regularly admitted to practice as an attorney. Mr. Firmin's criminal practice was chiefly conducted by his assistant, who speedily attained considerable reputation by his skill in managing the defence of persons charged with crime. Among others for whom Smith was thus concerned was a young woman of great beauty, but very illiterate, named Phcebe Somers, accused of attempting to poison her master. The circumstances connected with the trial, though interesting, are too compli- cated to be given at length. Suffice it to say that young Smith fell desperately in love with his interesting client, who promised to become his wife if he could succeed in saving her from the doom that threatened her. Fully convinced of his lover's innocence, Smith worked hard in getting up her defence. A girl named Susan Nugent, whom he had met several times at some private theatricals, and who had resolved, if possible, to secure the young lawyer .for herself, at length hinted that it was in her power to give the clue needed to establish the prisoner's innocence. The secret, whatever it was, she would not part with, except at the price of marriage with herself. In this cruel fix Smith consented to sacrifice himself for the sake of the woman he loved; and on the morning of the day appointed for the trial he was married to Susan Nugent. The latter faithfully fulfilled her part of the bargain, and supplied such information as enabled the prisoner's counsel to show that the poor girl was the victim of a false charge, and she was of course acquitted. Smith immediately disappeared with his wife, his mar- riage with whom had been secret. Neither Mr. Firmin, nor the girl for whom the great sacrificc had been made, was aware of the cause ef his Jis- uppearance. After some years spent as a strolling player, Smith returned to Mr. Firmin's service, and eventually succeeded to his practice, thus becoming a moderately rich man. With the wife to whom he had been thus strangely uniUd he seems to have lived comfortiblv, if not happily but both Mrs. Smith and her children died, and the lawyer was left for years a lonely, melancholy man. What had become of Phcebe Somers he could never learn. mong some papers left by Mr. Firmin at his death. Smith one day chanced to find an old faded letter of a few lines, in the sorry scrawl ho remembered co well. it was a request from Phcebe to Mr. Firmin for help. She had been unable to obtain situation after her acquittal, and was in great distress. A memoran- dum in the old lawyer's hand was attached to the letter:—" I shall send the poor creaturo a couple of guineas. She will soon, I fear, be on the town. Poor thing! poor thing! But I am "fraid she was guilty, and 150 must Smith have thought, or why did he run away ?" After this Smith renewed his search, but in vain. For years he was accustomed to walk about all parts of the town at night, peer- ing in the faces of the passers-by in search of the lost one. At length, when the lawyer had become wealthy and renowned, he was one day waited upon by the daughter of his early love The fate so aadly prognosticated by Mr. Firmin's memoran- dum had been averted, first by a situation, then by a happy marriage; and it was only when some able legal aid was needed by Phcebe'o hus- band that tho help of the shrewd lawyer was sought, and the mystery explained. The hero of our third story was another titlrsd victim of the tender passion, Sir John Dineley. This eccentric baronet was of the family of DIntlleys, of Charlton, and was descended by the female line from the Royal house of Plantagenet. Having dis- sipated the wreck of the family estates, he obtained the pension of a poor knight of Windsor." His chief occupation thenceforth consisted in adver- tising for wife, and nearly thirty year: passed in assignations to meet the fair respondents to his advertisements. His figure was most grotesque. In wet weather he was mounted on a pair of high pattens. He wore the coat of the Windsor uniform, with r-n embroidered velvet waistcoat, satin breeches, silk stockings, and full-bottomed wig. In this finery ho might be seea one day strolling at his eaee, and the next out marketing, carrying a penny loaf, a morsel of butter, a quartern of siigar, and a farthing candle. Twice or thrice year he went from Windsor to London, and visited Vauxhall Gardens and tho themtres. He estimated his fortune—if it could only have been recovered—at £ 300,0(^0. He in- vited the widow as well as the blooming hiaiden of sixteen, and addreed them in printed documents, bearing his signature, in which he specified the [ sum the ladies must possess. He expected less I with youth than with age or widowhood, adding that few ladies would be eligible who did not possess at least £10,000 a year, which, however, was nothing compared to the honour his high birth and Royal descent would confer. To the last he cherished, the expectation of forming a consubial connection with some lady of property but, after all, died a bachelor in 18C8. The following copy of one of his advertisements may both interest and amuse .—"To the angelic fair of true English breed. Sir John Dineley, of Windsor Castle, recommends himself and his ample fortune to any angelic beauty of good breed fit to become and will- ing to be the mother of a noble heir, and keep up the name of an ancient family, ennobled by deeds of arms and ancestral renown. Fortune favours the bold. Such ladies as this advertisement may induce to apply, or send their agents (but not ser- vants or matrons), may direct to me at the Castle, Windsor. Happiness and pleasure are agreeable objects, and should be regarded as well as honour- The lady who thus becomes my wife will be a baronetess, and rank accordingly as Lady Dineley, of Windsor. Good and favour to all ladies of Great Britain. Pull no caps on his account, but favour him with your smiles, and pceans of pleasure await your steps!" Of oddities in the shapa of matrimonisd adver- tisements the newspapers have at various times supplied an almost inexhaustible store. The following, with which we will bring our present articlo to close, is certainly second to none in quaintness. It was published in Bell's Messenger, of May 28, 1797, and was there stated to be recent extract from a Cumberland newspaper May no miscarriage prevent my marriage Matthew Dawson, in Both- well, Cumberland, intends to be married in Holm Church, on the Thursday before Whitsuntide next, whenever that may happen, and to return to Bothwell to dine. Mr. Reid gives a turkey to be roasted, Eiward Clementson gives a fat lamb to be roasted, William Elliott gives a hen to be roasted, Joseph Gibson gives a fat calf to be roasted. And in order that all thic; roast meat may be properly basted, do you see, Mary Pearson, Betty Hodgson, Mary Eushley, Molly richer, Sarah Briscoe, and Betty Porthouse give, each of them, a pound of butrer. The advertiser will provide everything else for so festive an occasion. And he hereby gives notice to all young women desirous of changing their condition that he is at present dis- engaged, and advises them to consider that, although there be luck in leisure, yet, in this case, delays are dangerous, for with him he is deter- mined it shall be first come first served. So come along lasses who wish to be married, Mat. Dawson is vexed that so long he ha.s tarried." Whether the event came off on the appointed day history does not say but it is amusing to note the confidence with which Matthew names the day even before he has chosen the lady upon whom he will confer his name. It is to be hoped that the bounty of his neighbours in supplying so much "roast meat" was not in vain. (To be continued.)

FEMININE FOIBLES, FANCIES, AND FASHIONS. EY A LADY. (All Rights Reserved.) As every journal, magazine, paper, and periodical of the past and current week teems with stale particulars of the biography of that fifteenth century saint whose martyrdom we commemorate on the 14th inst., I forbear to inflict upon my readers any modern edition or personal version of the old story; being fully aware that few things are more insupportably wearisome than a twice- told tale. Again and again have we heard all about the great god Pan and his endlessloves, and never a February comes but someone repeats to us how rejoiced niggardly old Pepys was to find he had got Mrs. Pierce's little daughter for a valentine instead of his own wife, as he at first imagined, a circumstance for which the parsi- monious old gossip-monger has th:- astounding shamelessness to add that he is not sorry, since it eases him of the necessity of giving so much as he must have done to "others," meaning Mrs. Pepvs. Anent the subject of valentines generally, I am by no means unsympathetic with young people at this time. nor do I consider the custom of sending them altogether a foolish one. I occasionally despatch them myself to some little people at. school, who will feel as much delight at receiving from Auntie a confession of unselfish affection on laced paper, as in after years they will, no doubt, experience in the ecstasy of looking for. and doubtless getting, ardent declarations of passionate love, with accompanying symbolic manifestations of the tender passion in the shape of silver doves, united hearts, clasped hands, gold rings, and other recognised devices supposed to prefigure the passion called" Love." could be more tolerant of a custom that too often exceeds the bounds of reason and common sense, thereby imperilling the safety or causing delay in the delivery of more important postal matter, did we not positively know that not only is there the usual amount of amorous nonsense flying abroad just now, but that malicious people take this opportunity of dealing cruel stabs in the dark, and making a so-called valentine the infamous vehicle for wound- ing the feelings and destroying the reputations of those of then- acquaintance whom they wish to injure or annoy, and the licence of the present time gives every facility for doing this. Like an anony- mous letter a-more deadly and cowardly weapon the hand of malevolence can scarcely find. In these days of sanitary reform, and in view of the active measures taken to improve much that is condemned as inimical to health, if not fatd to life itself, it strikes the reflective ag little less than marvellous that our progenitors should have managed to exist at all, ignorant as they were of the laws which govern health, and, therefore, care- less of those hygienic observances with respect to their persons and habitations which modern science has taught us to regard as one of the very first importance if we desire to lead happy, healthy lives, and who does not? I suppose part solution of the mytery may be found in the fact that our ancestors lived simpler lives than we do, and the vast growth of the population has increased the necessity of taking new precau- tions against tho evils and dangers pro- duced by overcrowding in great cities. and more care in counteracting the results of an artificial state of existence, entirely opposed to that which mother Nature had marked out for her children. I suppose that in former times persons did occasionally get fever from bad drainage, foul cesspools, want of ventilation, and neglect of sanitary measures generally, and, no doubt, when they succumbed to the malady induced thereby, the unanimous opinion was that the sufferer died by the visita- tion of God," and nobody thought of looking for any preventible cause of death. The bereaved sat down quietly to bear their loss, never doubting the departed's Time was come," as they phrased it, and that no earthly power or precaution could have prolonged that momentous hour, fixed, as many believed, from the very beginning. How differently we think now when told people, but for accidents, ought to live to good, if not ex- treme, old age. Among some novelties shown to me by a vigorous promoter of sanitation in every form was a Pillow divider," and & most excellent contrivance it appeared. It is a great pity that people understand so little how injurious it is to the former for the young, to sleep with the aged, or how seriously the health of one person may be affected by inhaling the breath of another, though that other be apparently in a. condition of perfect health. In any case the "pillow divider is a moat excellent invention, on other grounds than the primary one of health. There is a fixed arrangement which is secured to the head of the bed, and a padded adjustable division, which can be removed to allow of the making of the couch, or need only be fitted at night, according as people think best. Another and corresponding invention is a bed divider," and who that has passed a suc- cession of nights with a restless child would not feel grateful for a partition which certainly gives some chance of needful repose to the adult bed- fellow. I speak of a 7ntless, not a sick, child. The last-named construction is "very simple, and with a little arrangement can be made into a platform whereon may be placed the small supplies of which invalids stand so often in need. They who have lived in the region of Kensington House, and have observed how great an ornament to the High-street is that palatial structure, which Baron Grant, at a fabulous cost, erected for him- self, would gladly have seen it inhabited by some- one financially capable of keeping up the glories of the place, and hear now with regret the confirmation of a rumour that the build- ing materials have been sold for £10,000, prelimi- nary to the whole being pulled down. The site of the mansion itself, including that of the ek- tensive grounds, will then be turned into a square, whereon smaller residences will be erected, to come within the compass of the means of people of moderate fortune. To keep Kensington House "warm," as the phrase is, it would require a modern representative of that monarch of un- limited possessions—Croesus, Kingoi Lydia. The rostlv decorations of the interior of the place are simplv indescribable all that art and unbounded expenditure could do has been done to lender it beautiful to the eye, and yet there it hag stoo year after year, untenanted, a magnificent tnouglt melancholy spectacle of thwarted ambition and the instability of riches. There ars some old people in the neighbourhood who declare a curse rests on the place. It has with certainty seen many vicissitudes of fate, once the hoine of Nelly Gwynne, then one of the sanctuaries of the followers of Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuits, afterwards it became a school, and subsequently a bordiDa hoUN, where Mrs. Inchbald lived and died alas that I should say it of so clever and excellent a. lady, at the age of 68 of tight-lacing. I hardly know to what use the old house was turned after that episode, but, before it was purchased by Baron Albert Grant, I know that for manv, many years it had been a home for the I mentally ?iflicted, in Jiort, lunatic asylum. I once met a lady who had quits recovered her reason, and she told me she had been an inmate of old Kensington House for more than ten years. What weary, weary time! I have often," from Kensington Gardens, which face the new erection, looksd at the. noble building and quietly moralised over and about it. I may be thought foolish and superstitious—but my foJIy and credulity, if those are the nmes given to such ideas, are shared by hundred*- of wi"er people than myself—when I say misfortune seems to attend some places, as it does persistently appear to follow csrt'tin individuals. Nothing seems to prosper with ome people, and in some houses no tenants appear to thrive. I do not assert that no oound, practical reasons are to be found for failure in respect of both or either of these cases. Still, I could quote a dozen samples which tend to substantiate beliefs that many characterise as weak and superstitious. I repeat I do not assert the results referred to may not be traceable to material, and therefore preventible, causes. Curious coincidences chains of events, singular in their successive bearing toward an end foretold, cannot, however, fail of their offect on th" minds of those watching for the fulfilment of '•in augury. Some ladies I know, whoss rocial influ- ence, though not so extended that of the Countess of Bective, Duchess of Marlborough, and other members of the aristocracy, who have so long been trying to promote the choice of home in pre- ference to foreign manufactures, have entered into a league to wear nothing throughout the summer thiit has not been made in this country, and when I hear the plans made, and (4" materials and fashions selected for the enduing period, I am in- clined to think the member-- of this enterprising society will by no ro,_ans be the most unbe- comingly dressed people either at home or abroad. Self-coloured sateens, the capabilities of which, to inexpensive and elegant costumes, have not been as yet fully estimated, will be great power in the hands of the society. I saw lately some bridemaids severally attired in pale blue, pal-pink, primrose, and peach blossom sateens; their hos" and glove were of corresponding colours, as was. the Spanirli'blonde trimming each dr:ss,and also forming the hats. The bouquets carried on the occasion wre respectively formed of violets, primroses, foiget-me-nots, and" a pretty pink blossom with the name of which I am not familiar. White sateen, when trimmed with white or cream lace, looks almost as well as the more costly fabric, from which it derives its name. Then clllico drd3(Õ, as they are styled, will be a still more economical and every day sort of garment. According to tho rules laid down by the managing committee, washing dre;, rc not to belij their name by bting made up in uny fantastic fasliion that renders it utterly impossible to submit them satisfactorily to that renovating process. By the moans of runners judiciously inserted fix: dress may be fashioned in the fussy bouffant style which has been and is still likel)- to prevail. When soiled the strings may be loosened ancfrafiat-surface presented over which iron passes smoothly and easily, and when the process of getting up is finished and the runners have been drawn tho again. In these esthetic days oo much starch is not desirable. Dolly Tlrdnn will be the style chiefly selected, because membors 0; the society are all to acquire, if they do not already possess it. soms knowledge of the use- ful irt 0" dress-making, for, as the sensible promoter of the society very justly remarked, What i- the use of sewing up the entrance to your pocket, if there be a hole in the bottom of it," meaning that whure would be the utility of buying inexpensive stuffs, and then giving them to an extravagant dressmaker, who would charge four times the original cost of the material for making it up. I consider that lessons in dressmaking should be included in the education of every girl, for though she may not have sufficient skill to undertake the making of a new dress, some knowledge of the art, however slight, will be found of great use when re-modelling or renovating older garments, and as for millinery how many shillings may bo saved, and how many pretty faces may II be made to look yet more attractive by the addition of a flower or some simple alteration, that perhaps costs a few pence only, and involves nothing beyond a little time and trouble. One of fashion's new freaks is to wear tan- coloured shoes, to match the Suede kid gloves that are as popular as ever. Plush shoes in every variety of shade are also worn, but only those who have Cinderella-like feet may safely venture to adopt them. Some while ago I mentioned a new make oi boots, invented by a shoemaker living in South Kensington, those shown to me being intended for out-door wear. I do not think they liave been very popular as walking chaussures, but I see a great number in the windows which will be worn for dancing. These are made partly of coloured satin; the upper part extends like a Hesfcian boot some distance up the leg it is a lattice work of silk cord, and laces up the front. My dressmaker tells me that for coat bodices to be worn over skirts indoors moire is very fashion- able, striped moire being preferable. I mention this because I think many women, like myself, are a little tired of plain velvets, striped velvet, velvet brocades, silk brocades, plush, and the often repeated materials which have circumscribed our choice for the past few months. The Empress of Austria's travelling dress was a complete suit of black velvet trimmed with sable. It was made with a long square train, an adjunct that, with our present views of dress, appeared somewhat inconsistent. Her Imperial Highness is said to hunt in habits of the most costly description, and if, as report affirmed last year, lier Majesty excited jealousy in the breasts of other fair amazons by her unexampled daring in the field, her beauty and the admiration it created in the breasts of the Nimrods of the chase, another cause for envy this year will, I ex- pect, be found in the splendid riding-dresses which the Empress Elizabeth has donned since her arrival, notably one of pearl-grey Genova veivet, with silver buttons. It is to be hoped that Oscar Wyldedoes not read the American papers, or that he is loftilyindifferent to the comments passed upon him and his opinions by the outspoken Transatlantics. Such titles as Britain's greatest ass," and England's sick calf" must essentially counterbalance the preposterous eulogiums pronounced upon Mr. Wylde by his infatuated adorers in this country. 1 an, told that Lady Harberton's revised dress for women finds favour among certain classes, notably girls attending the high schools affect it, as also some of the students of art and medicine. 1 am sorry to see young women under age so affecting singularity in this respect, and more than affecting that independence of action and freedom of manners which stamps each one with a special individuality that robs woman in appearance of her greatest, charm, that of unpretending modesty, both of mien and character.

The Earl of Mount Edgcumbe has accepted the presidency of the movement in favour of obtain- ing a Sunday Closing Bill for Cornwall. The honorary degree of LL.D. Mas conferred on Tuesday by the Senatus Academieus of the Uni- versity of St. Andrew's upon Richard HoltHutton, M.A., editor of the Spectator; Augustus Wilkins, M.A., Professor of Latin. Owens College, Manchester; Thomas Davidson, F.R.S., vice-president of the PaleontolQoical Society; John Hulton Balfour, M.D., Emeritus, Professor of Botany, Edinburgh University. A most extraordinary incident occurred at a Manchester concert on Saturday. Some daiav occurred in the appearance of Madame Sinico, but she was on her arrival received with cheers. A greater delay having afterwards occurred in the case of Signor Campobello, the conductor asked tho audience to decide whether they should hear him. On the singer's appearance he was hissed, and not allowed to speak. He left the platform and the hall, taking with him all the vocalists except Mr. M'Guckin. With this gentleman's extra songs and the conductor's flute solos the concert was pieced out. the audience applauding everything heartily. THERK is nothing more nourishing and warming in cold weather than a cup of really good Cocoa, but the difficulty has been to obtain it pure. This can be secured at a cost of OJJ half-penny for a large breakfast cup, by using Cadbury's Cocoa Essence, which goes three times as far as the adulterated and starchy compounds ordi- narily sold, the smallest packet making fourteen break- a st cups of strong Cocoa. FOR LADIES' DRESS, COURT -TRAINS, CHILDREN'S a st. cups of strong Cocoa. FOR LADIES' DRESS, COURT -TRAINS, CHILDREN'S SUITS, &C., the Nonpariel'' Velveteen is the Climax of Improvements, possessing in perfection all the advan- tages claimed for other Velveteens without their defects. Superb in make, dye, and finish fine in texture rich full-toned colours"; great, depth of Immovable { Pile. Pre-emineutiy the only real substitute for LYONS SILK V.ELVET. Can be worn with all kinds of dress material*. Tjadiea-should insist on having the "A'onpareil." Of all Brapers. Most. Ladies, no doubt, useRECKiTT's PARIS BLUE Brapers. Most. Ladies, no doubt, useRECKiTT's PARIS BLUE at home, but they would ao well to insist on their Laun- dresses doing the same, as the purity and brightness of the colour t1f the linen is largely dependent upon the quality of the Blue used. 2 The Dome" differs from the ordinary kinds of Black Lead from the fact of its adhering at once to the stove or grates, thereby avoiding injury to the furniture from dust. "Bronze. Silver, and Gold International Medals awarded for excellence of quality and cleanliness in use." Bold bv Grocers in &1. and Is. boxes. THE EKGLISH HOMESTEAD.-1- was a fair picture, a true type of an English home. The surrounding seenery was lovely, and excepting the tale of Llangollen I\.S fine as eould be seen anywhere. A substantial nouse stood on an eminence, children romped gleefully on the undulating lawn. Their laughter could be heard afar, indicating health, animal spirits, and a full measure of enjoyment. Alas: that it should .be othervdse-t hat ¡ disease should stalk into that fair spot—that those happy faoes and sparkling e-es 9hould Ime pinched with pain and feverish through that aflhctlOJ1 common to all children—worms and yet, unless Williams's CPontardawe) Worm Lozenges are given them aj< directed such must inevitably be the case. Loss of appetite will ensue, and the bloom will leave the cheek and the limbs will lose their comeliness and roundness, The little ones love these Lozenges because they are nice to the taste and palatable. They are sold by most ) chemists at 9.d., 13t-d., and2s. 9d. per box. It should be observed that the Government stamp is on each box. MR. JOHX HUGH MARTIN, M.E. (who was for many years with the late Edgar Wetton) is in dailv at tendance at his Consulting Kooms and DepSt, 275. 1 Regent Circus, London, W., and may be consulted gra.tis on ai! matters relating to Health by Ma°rietisnf Martiu's Magnetic Curative Appliances are now known I and appreciated all over the world, and a 4S paoed Pamphlet, entitled "Magnetism, or Nature's Aid "to Health, may be had gratis on application. Seven years experience, practical, scientific, and professional 1 enables me to advise with that success which so signally attended my labours during the nast IS months. AH who vaiue health should see the above Pamphlet, which contains abundant Welsh testimon v. 5790c HOLLOWAY s PILLS AND OINTMENT.—Dyspepsia Jaundice-—These complaints are the results of adisordered hver, which secretes bile in quality or quantity unsnit- S^ye *°r. *rPStion, which requires a free flow of healthy bile, to insure which Holiowav's Pills and Ointment have Jong been lamous, far eclipsing all other remedies. Unsuitable food, irregularity of living, unhealthy cli- mates, and other causes are constantly throwing the liver into disorder, but that important organ can, under II circumstances, soon be regulated and healthily ad- justfed by Kolloway's Pills and Ointment, which acts directly upon its secreting cells. The Ointment rubbed on the skin penetrates immediately to the liver, whose tissues it rectiiies. One trial is all that is needed. a cure will soon follow. A CARD.—To all who are SUFFERING from the errors a.nd indisèrets of youth, nervous weakness, early decay, loss of manhood, Ac., I will send a. reelpe that will cure you, TSKB OF CHABGE. TWø great remedy was discovered by amissionerv in South America. Bend a sell-ad dressed envelope to the Eev. JOSEPH T. Ixatuf, Station D, Kew York City, U.S.A. 6035c TOOTHACHE WOOL, 6d. Instantaneous ease, S.IUJ destroys the nerve. Post five, leven st&faips.—Mr. Gregory, Chemist. Bristol-.

l Y BARDD CYMREIG. .=- -?- J BARDDONIAETH. PRIODASGEKDD Mr. Benjamin Thomas, contractor, Merthyr, â Mrs. Dinah Jones, Mount Pleasant, Capel Iwan, Dyfed, Rha.gfyr 16eg, 1881. TON: Serch Hudol." Greddf, greddf, o r Nef ei hun i ddyn sy'n ddoodf Pan fydc1o'n llwyr dan deiml^d Heddf, 1'w'r gynneddi, mviiu wraig; I fynwes gwr ei bath nid oes,- Dan gaddug du ac awel groos, Huff wraig liniara' la wer loes I'w einioes ar yraig Ail llong marsiandwr hefyd yw, Yn dwyn trysorau 0 bob rhvv: Gwerth mwy na'r byd a'i bobpeth byw, Fel arch uwcli diluw'r don; GaTr eisieu gwraig, y 5e1 !J.'i gwyr, 'R oedd Ben gerliaw lt wyr,— Fel marwor tàn ar dalp 0 gwyr, Bu fore a hwyr heb hon. At', áf 0 Giifaeh Morlais hyd Ian Táf, Ac )è!dr¡rf:feith, .N'evryddi'sri braf, heb rith, Set inti Ben. Thomas, fawr ei ddawn, Y. boreu bryd mewn llwydd-fyd llawn, Ai Ddinah fwyn yn ddedwydd iawn. Wei, llwyr fwyiihftwn v llit'n; Fe deimlai'n brawd, trvvy brohad lir, 1 gwely'n oer, a'r nos yi hit, A 11011wn oil fad hyny'n wir, Heù feinir wrth ei foch,- At IMinali fad appeliai'n fwyn Mewn geiriau serch ynllawn 0 swyn, A hithau'n gall ystyriai'i gwyn, Cyü-de!mlaii giwy'n ei gloch. Awd, Awd trwy serchog, ffyddiog ffawd, A'n chwan- lieb rus dan fraicll eibrawd, A'r ddat: r, wnawd yn un; Y gauaf drydd i'r ddedwydd ddau 1'n haf 0 wn¡fyd, a uiau" Y byddant heno'n vmfwynhau "Efea'i orau fun Yn ngwres y ddinam fodrwy dderch, Dadleithir oerllyd adfvd erch, Yn ngweuyH hon mae swynion serch 1 I tab Ii merch vn fur; Mae mel a manna;n huliog wledd Barhaus i'r rhai fo'n byw mewn hedd, Heb ddalen sur 0 gylch eu 5t'dd- Ar barth eu hanedd bur. Amen,—Byd lhwydd 0 lwydd di len I Dinah Bur a'i hanwyl BH, Hy.j derfyn pen eu taith Hir cinioes dliiloes fo i'r ddau, Yu nddwyn i gyd-ddwyn y iau, V Heb arwydd tristyd i'w pruddhau,s- Xa churdoluriau chwait,JJ Cyweiried telyn ffawd ei thant, O fenuith arnynt hwy R'U plant, Pe byduai'u rhit yn haner cant, Er llwyddiant yn mhob lie. Y ilamoii Cyfiawn hmwo'u éell, B03d dydd èu harwyl draw yn m1lel1,- Cyd-floeddiwn ninau Henffych well HiD, hip, hwre: b\\Te!" NATHAN DI"FED. "SYR WATKIN WILLIAMS WYNN." Gwladgarwr, Arwr Eryri,-o Gyfl Gwrdd Gruffydd uchelfri Cun aer yw'n 8vr Watcyn ni,- O law Nèr i'n biaenori. O giwdawd teyrnllin Gwydir,-a Gwenyr G-wynedd a Deheudir, Ac o'i fonedd cvfunir • Byw asia dwy Bowys dir. Seneddwr, noddT ein Cynnor, Tri Phen Cenedl perffaitb 1:'n Br1l!c u, Wales' noi byw raith, Arenwyd gan Sior unwaith. Lly w, yn nawdd Celf a Llenyddiaeth,-Taria.n Terydd i'n Gwiadlywiaexh o Wyr.stav yn hynaws daeth I deilwng lywior dalaeth. Dyma loew lwys derol elusen,-ys tud Wynstay sy'n daiamgen, A'i gnwd tel cvn-nogn Eden, f Ar iawn sail yr Ynvs Wen. Ar Udgjru Gwlaa, Hoedder Byr Watcyn Aer" y Ddraig Goch ddyry y evehwya "— Eryr o burwaeu Ai wyr Barwyn, Wynstay dalied Ganoes i'w dilyn,— Ei Enwad Urdd fvth. boed-Etn Dvn-a Kawdd Duw i'w yrfa'n ddi-derfvn." KATHAU DYFED. Y DIWEDDAR MRS. MARY EVANS (MAIR BE DW,ALLT). (Hir a Thoddaid,-Beddargraff.) Ow Mair enwawg, budda'r bedd am ronyn,- Oedd Ferch, Gwraig, a Mam fad,-Dwyf Gredadyn lihinwedaol, awenol, rasol rosyn, A wyl agorai yn twr fiaguryn, Gwyliai' thylu-ia.itb Gwaiia a'i the]yn- Darbodai achles drwy'i bywyd dich,yr. A,'i hiach glad uwch y GJyn-ar len a mant, Y n loew groew gofiant, ui lygra gw,vfyn. -Natuak DYFED. KEEP UP YOUR COURAGE. St.ill keep your courage up. my friend. And never be cast down, Tho freakish Fortune mar IOmeWmes Upon your efforts frown*; care, anà trial, friend, With pain al1d toil beset, Retjufis and disappointment Bring with them but regret -• Ob, still, my friend, have courage, kemember that above All unseen Eye still vetches vau With the tenderest of love." Aye, stm lift up your burden, friend, And shuuldcr \\it,}¡ inknr, Life's battle cheerfully to ¡¡¡;Ilt, Tn struggle, still content. To hopefully and fearlessly, Aye, manfullv to lJear That which allotted is, my 1riend, And never to despair Whatever may betide yon, Vh, forget not tJlat above, An unseen Eye still watehes VOl" With the tenderest of love: 011, keep your courage up, my friend. With energy still greet, Disappointment may be bitter. Bat reward is doubly sweet; Life's trials, friend, we more or le Hive all of us tel bear, And Oh, peculiar to ech one Those gi\,(11 trials are; Bm God unto lhe shom lamb Still tempers the rude wiud, Aud strength for every trial, t'rienQ.- We certainly will find Whatever may betide you, Oil, forget hot that above, An unseen Eve still watches vau With the tenderest of love." eath. RmA(jX. LAD OF THE LEEK, Oh, land of the mountain of hill anù morass. JH its btruggles for freedom, whlit land can surpass Unaided in proud isolation unique, Thou hast stood, and for ages, Oh, Land of the Leek. 011, land of thE; precipice, chasm. and gorge, 'Tis not on thy -beauty that I wonld enlarge, But 'tis TO extol the courage I seek, That held against great odds tbis Land oftb.e Leek. Oh, land of Druidical relics arid lore. Tho' robbed of the prestigp that mark'd thee of yore, We hold thy traditions and symbols antique As sacred tor ever, Oh, Land of the Leek. Oh, hmd of sweet minstrelsy, land of the bard, Like the jov entwining shall be our regard Each high asplratioll through IIcorn and oblique. Shall be centred in thee, 011, Land of the Leek, Tho' now no proud warriors in battle array, Hkinclad, from these hilltops spread terror, dismay, lho' now represented but hy mountailIs grey bjeåk, Thou art stiil our loved "C.nnru," the Land of the Leek. Still proud and defiant, tho' aliens deride, And scoffillgly taunt us with poverty, priJe; The sneer ot the braggart, the jest at the weak. But strengthen our love for the Land of tbe Leek. All hail, then, all hail to Cadwalader's land, Prove ueathless her language, both ancient and grand; May Liberty's flag yet from Snowdon's high peak, Float proudly unfurled o'er the Land of the Leek, ^eat h. Rhi A NO:?. GWATWARGERDD I R 1-TWCH A'R GYNFFON HAIARN Testyn Eisteddfod Car mel, Tresimwn, Nadolig, 1882. Beirniad, Dewi Wyn 0 Essvilt. (Cyd-fuddugol) Mae genyf ddeg-ar-hugain 0 wartheg blitbion braf, Rhai brvnwyd 0'1' Iwerddon, a' lleill 0 wlad yr hat'; Ond Hid oes un i fynu a'r fuwch osodais i, o soop yr ironmonger yn ymyl drws y ry. Mae'n un 0'1' gwartheg goreu sydd heddyw yn ein bra, A'i chylla Yllligored i dderbn Hath 0'1' úí; A stor ddidrai o hono yn iachus ac yn sy w, Rhaidcydio'n flaen ei chynffon i wasguV Uaetho'i phyw. Os nad DeS 'menyn ynddi, bendigaid rinwedd øydd- Goddefa i'm ei godro ryw bedair gwaith y dydd Ar 01 dibenu güdro, nid ydyw lwc," Fel 11awer buwch afradlon yn rhoddicic i'r stwc. Mae rhai o'm cymydogion yn bygwth prynu ei mham, Genedlwyd yn y foundry Yll ngweithiau BirminghAm Mae lawer Yll rby werthfawr r", dangos ar bn fiair, 'Does achos vario arian i brynu gwellt na gwair. 'Does ganddi gyrn na clilustiau, ond digon hir 0 drwyn, Ac nid oes eisieu cadvven i'w chlymu. mae mor lwvn Creadur g-irin¡¡. tawel, difywyu, audtwvn yw, A'I' godrwr wrth ei chynffon fel cadben wrth y llyw. Sid ydyw yn lladroneti, saif beunydd yr un lie, O na thry r lliietii fit gosyn gall pawb ei drui yn de: Mac allan haf a gaua; yn ùyw ar ddwr v 16, Kid aeth hi 'roed i dartc, Iii ddaw lù byth a 110, Mac gwynt v gogledd weithian yn casglu hufen tew, Ar gefn ei llaeth yn galed wrth chwythu anadl rhew Pan fo'r tÎ,vrnig, a'r cwh1 fei dan glo, Er cryfed yw ei ni fedr ei godi o. Mae gwres a sychder hefyd "n gyru'i llaeth hi'n brin. Rhaid. rhedeg "Jawr i'r a.fon j'w gyrchu v pryd llyn; Yn nghanol gwawd ymdogio:J, trywanant hyd yearn. Beth sydd, a lyneodd Satan y fuwch a'r g3'nffon ?" Ond ow: am werthi cymaint 0 ffrwvth ha.e1ion; bon. Bu rhaid i mi ymddangos, un boreu'n syn gerlJron- Yr awdurdodau uchaf; a dvma farn poll gwr, "Fod llaeth y fuwch rhy debyg 0 It-wer iawn i ddwr," Pymtheg punt a'r costau, ow: dvma ddedfryd drwm. Bu'n agos droi iy nghstioit yn btlen oer 0 blwm Ar oil hapyrau dranoeth yn codi uchel gri, Gan sarnu ffermwr onest, respectable fel n. Chwychwi sy'n eadw gwartheg, na roddwob ffordd i chwant, Mae tuedu arian garol wedi Ilwchwynio cant: Gwell vdyw treuioY bywyd yu onest. er yn dlawd. a choili cymeriadau a hod aan fythol w»wd. Ond ow pa both yw hyiiy «t sefyJl yn y ■ 1 edrvch i gyfsinion y fuwch a'r gvnffon ha rn A'r oil alwyili wer thai st o'r jlaeth a ddueth drwy i ftroen. Disgyriant Inegys olew berwedigar aj gro:n. The Cow with the Iron Tad-nz,-Tùe Pur,p. Llantrithvd. l(¡ TRl1'HYD. —

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— ) ODDS AXD ENDS. Soody Customers—Nurserymen. Subject; of Examination—Witnessoa, A •' Blunt Follow—A millionaire. I A volume of water cannot be called dry reading A Picas int. Trip—Falling into a young lady's A book that- is full of plates is recommended.. ¡ being oi the l'ipht kind for the table. Smilos is the longest word ift the language- Between the beginning and the end of it there i» just a mile. Don't judge of a man's character by the umbrella he carries. It may not be his. No woman should borrow the husband of another! because it is not good for man to be a loan. Engaging child: Oh. Mr. Jenkin_, do lot me sea you drink." Mr. Jenkin? "See me drink What for, my dear ?" Engaging child: "Oh, mamma .3.ys you drink like a nsh." Som geologists have contradicted Moses butt AZ. all geologists hav^ contradicted each other Moses stands about as well as anybody. At an Inn—" Waiter, serve me with some ortho- graphic blunders." Pig-headed waiter—" We havo. none to-day, sir." Then why do vou put them on. the bill of tare Granny: Go away now, Eva, and don't I'm busy. Tere's a proper time ior everything, you know." Lva:" r,c there,gran? Then what's tne proper time for hooking out of the SUPHX bowl ?" Among the announcements of 'vrticies offered for exchange, in a paper specially devoted to such transactions, there appears the following:- Wanted, a drawing-room suite for two portablai fowl-houses on wheels." The post-office has ordered a commissionaire tcba present during the pressure oflieavv business at the post-offices where young ladies ire employed. Tha females having proved themselves unequal to look- after the mails, the male is to be employed to Vnok after the females. There was a great scarcity of water some littlo time back in Gibraltar. An Irish officer ■who was quartered in the fortress said that he was very easy about the matter.for he cared very little for water; all that lie wanted was his tea in the morning and his punch at night. American Justice.—In the case ot the robber M'lcx well, taken from tho conrt-hou&( "-tid knehed at Dura nd. Wisconsin, the coroner's jury returned the verdict," Fell from the court-house steps and broko, his neck." The factia, self-preservation is a strong? law than any of the statutes. A gipsy must find the English language quite a relief, for, in spite of its many faults, we have not to use such a word as weshenjuggalslomoinen- greskeytemakytudlogueri" when we wantto express a Leicestershire milkmaid, as he would have to da in his native Romany. Helping Them to do a Neighbourly Turn-At cfc recent trial in Ireland the judge was about to pass. sentence on the prisoners at the bar, of whom there were several, when a witty Irish barrister gaid: "Not too long a sentence, my lord; you'll ? ant them before long to try the jury:" A certain lawyer always began his examinatioi of a witness with" I'm going to put a. question you, and I don't care how you answer it." Thai iiabit was so strong that one day he met a friend and said, I'm going to put a question to you, and I don't care how you answer it. How do you do A Pennsylvania girl abeau that tips tho beam-* at 2101b.She keepshim in attendance every night to 12. seated comfortably in an arm-chair. She ax- plained to a companion, under the seal of secrecy, that beneath the cushion she kept her autumn leaves in a book, and, ItS soon as they were sufficiently pressed, she should give him the mitten. "Oh yes." said Mrs. Brown, as she surveyed witl; evident pleasure her little parlour sideboard covered with old china and decorated with highly' coloured tiles, Mr. B. remarked last night that I was becoming quite an atheist," and the old lady's countenance fairly beamed with delight as her eyes rested on a sixteen-cent. Japanese teapot. At the photographer's: Artist—"Smile pleasantly, if you please. A little more. There but not quitl so much. Wait a moment, please. I shall hav to get the negative on the plate longitudinally i that smile increases. That will do." And all tb 1 while the woman was trying to condense hermoutf as much as possible. A Reigning King.—" My client," said an Irish advocate, pleading before Lord Norbury in ar action for trespass, is a poor man. He lives ic a hovel, and his miserable dwelling is in a forion and dilapidated state; but, thank God, the labourer^ cottage, however ruinous its plight, is his saBCtuary and his castle. Yes, the winds may enter it, and the rain may enter, but the king cannot enter it." What-not the reigning king," inquired his lord- ship In Theodore Hook's comic opera, "The Soldier's Return," vdÜch was written in his seventeenth year—both words and music being his own-and performed at Drury-lane Theatre with great success, a traveller is represented as coming to an inn-ùoo.r and saying to the landlord, Pray, friend,, are you the master of this house ?" Yes, sir." ijt the reply, "my wife has been dead these three weeks." The witty dramatist and actor, Samuel Foote was once playing a rubber of whist, and had foi his vis-a-w's a country rector, whose hands were none of the cleanest, and who was boasting of the profits of his living. "I am not surprised at that," said Foote," for I perceive that you keep the glebe on your own hands." Charles Lamb is also said to have observed of a similar whist-player. If dirt were trumps what hands you would hold An indignant old man whose daughter had failcd to secure a pO>litiun as teacher in conse4uenc,) of not passing an examination, said, They asked her lots of things she didn't know. Look at th" history question They asked her about things that happened before she w-ae born. How was 5h going to know about them ? Why, they asked her about the great Duke of Marlborough, old George IV.. and other men she never knew That was a. pretty sort of examination A correspondent writing from Turin cays:—You don't approve of 'Arry, but I must send you his last. 1 was on the platlorm here the other day talking to an official when he came up to me with t Cook's ticket in one hand and an Italian journal in the other, and asked me, as I knew the patter, what is the meaning of ItaÙa Ù.redt!nta 1" I replied. That integral portion of Italy as yet- unredeemed," "L0r!" said 'Arry why. that's; their paper money and went 06 to explain it to his friends. I have thought better of 'Arry ranee*. A gentleman who had made a large fortune as t cornfactor, and had retired from business and set up his ca.rria.ge,was desirous of embellishing it with his crest. But being a self-umde man. and quite ignorant of his ancestry, he wrote to a friend who was supposed to be wise in such matters. His friend sent him two crests which had been used by various families of the name to choose from. The cornfactor liked them both so much that he put one upon his carriage and the other on his phaeton. A city man had been out of town shooting his gun at a mark. when he suddenly turned and asked an old farmer standing near What's the law about shooting prairie chickens in these —when can I kill them ?" Never," was the old man's quiet response. "Never!" shoufd the genteel gunner. Never," again replied the ag-ed plough-jogger. And then, looking from the mark on the fence to the would-be sportsman, he con- tinued "That is, if you don't learn to choot better'n ye do now, boy." "Passengers will look out fortheir pocket-books;" said a London policeman at the door of an omnibus: "there are two members of the'swell mob in hen If that's the case." said a nervous man in v. hit. choker, who looked like a cDtleman I will get o.u. I cannot risk my reputation in such compmi\ And I. raid a respectable look- ing old gentleman, with gold-headed trine and spectacles, have too much money about me to stand the chances of being robbed," And so they both alighted. Then tho policeman said, Drive on they Ye both out." The old woman kept private bottle from which she refreshed herself from time to time, as she felt the need, though none of the family knew it. One evening her daughter, in rummaging through the pantry for dough-nuts for her lNau, spied the bottle, ana had tho curiosity to draw the cork and apply her nose to the aperture, at which moment the old lady hove in sight, and angrily demanded: Well, are you any wiser than you. were ? What do you suppose it is ?" I don't,. know what it is, mamma," answered the shrinking maiden; but it smells just like Charley's, moustache." Dey Schrink Like der Dc-yful."—" Why, Moses Isaacs; on the next block, sells suits like these for said a countryman to a Main-street dealer the- other day. f--as, my tear frient, I know all about dot, a.nt I dells you vy he sells dem dot scheap. Dey schrinks—schrinks like de devful J Shust von drop ov voter and oop dey goes. You know dot Sum Jameson, der garpenter ? Veil, puys a schoot of Isaacs last week unt goes out on a apree. lie vas trunk tree days. Efery night he schleep on ter sidevalk, and cfery night it rain. Dem glose schrink a foot efery dim*. Der fouct night der bolice run him in." For being drunk, eh V" For unfdescent oxposurc, mv frient—dem. glose bretty much all gone." "Stop that tram," cried old Mr. Nosengaie, chasing a flvmg tramcar up lie street, the car li-esht as a daisy, and Air. Nosengale badly blown. "Stop that tram he shouted to a distant but fleet- limbed boy. "Certainh. shrieked back the obliging boy. "What shall 1 stop it with*f" Tell it to hold on shouted the abandoned passenger. "Bold on to what?" yelled the boy. "Make it wait for me puffed Mr. Nosengale. You've got too much weight now," said the boy, that whatt the trouble with you Call the driver gasped the perspiring citizen, and, as the tramcar rounded the corwer and passed out of sight, the mocking echoes of the obliging answer came floating cheerily back, "All right! What shall 1 call him ?In One Soul Made Happy.—" Yes. I always make a practice of sending some poor flmly a Christmas turkey." he was saying to the poulterer, "and shall want an extra one this week. Yes, I must makeaC least one poor family happy." Ah. heaven bless you called out a man who had been asking the price of onions. "You are the man who sent me the turkey last year!" u Is that so ? You wera living in Gradgrinds rent" P" I was, and I was laid up with a ba.d foot, and my wife was nearly- dead with the ague" '• Well," I'm glad W meet you. 1 told my man to give the bird to some deserving person, and I'm glad you were made happy." Yes—I shall never forget you, sit. put that ttwkey up at a raffle, raked in a pemnd on him, and, besides some prime old gin for the missus and myself, I laid in enough tobacco to last me for months Mav VQU never knQW what it ie to be poor." v