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the PRETTIEST woman IN WARSAW.…
[COPYRIGHT.] the PRETTIEST woman IN WARSAW. By MABEL COLLINS. Author of II An Innocent Sinner," The Story of Helena Modjeska," "In the Flower of her Youth," &c., be. CHAPTER XLVII. The keen air of the early dawn upon her face brought back consciousness to Wanda. She found 8^6 was in the carriage with Niko; they were being driven rapidly through the streets. Niko Was bending over her watching the effect of the fresh air, which came in through one of the opened ^lndows. Wanda, a moment since, had looked ^*6 a lovely statue of death, but now a faint IColour had appeared in her lips and cheeks. As she opened her eyes Niko sank back upon the opposite seat with a sigh of relief. But the Momentary look of content was instantly succeeded 1n his face by a heavy and terrible expression of gloom. He kept his eyes from meeting Wanda's. Suddenly her mind became awakened and she ^sobered what had passed. She leaned forward eagerly and addressed Niko. Ie Dave I been dreaming ?" she asked. Was it tne horrid nightmare—or did you say some terri- Ie thing about Zadwiga ?" You did not dream that," answered Niko, with, Out raising his eyes. That she had murdered Demetri and was to be tried for the crime! Ob, no, Niko, it is impossible that you said it—it must have been my madness that I thought so I told you that it is she who is to be tried for the crime. If you listened to the story it is easy to see that." My God, it is impossible—and yet! ah. Niko! 16 dagger! the dagger that I had sent to her! ear may have made her use it." The thought of this seemed to take from her all POWer of speech. She Tell forward on her knees, tried helplessly to clasp her hands together as jto pray Heaven to forgive her for her part in ^8 crime. Niko raised her and put her back on TC18*1'0118 the carriage. No, no," he said, in a rough, harsh voice, "do ^tremble so. Zadwiga did not kill him." p0 h difficulty Wanda succeeded in saying," We nnot tell—we do not know i. Yes, I know," said Niko, it was my hand that Demetri's life." th Speared to Wanda that these words, when } fell upon her ears, had no meaning. It was tPOsible for her to grasp their awful sense until bla bad passed through a moment of complete e n5«iess. She remained perfectly motionless, her 'oiot ^Xe<^ uPon ber husband with the look of an The carriage stopped at the steps of the hotel in ,> lch they lived. The night-porter opened the a °r immediately, having heard the sound of its troach through the silent streets. It was not ljJf broad daylight, but there was enough clear an to see the world by: but the city was still sleep. lifIO bent over Wanda, evidently intending to Co ".er bodily from the carriage. He thought ha™i0U8ness aga'n left her. But before his could touch even her dress Wanda started P1 the trance in which she had seemed fast held |«Prang past him. As she went up the steps in ™te dress the porter, who stood in the door- w^rew back startled. This ghostlike woman aPh ^er c°l°urless face and wild eyes did not u?ar to him as being anyone he had seen before. c went straight to her own room. The soft DS were drawn, and it was dimly lit by a coloured light; the air was sweet with the }w No one was up in the great t^e* but themselves and the porter at the entrance her'' ^an<ia had told her maid not to wait for to h It seemed strangely like being in a desert in all the horrid consciousness of a ign I Ie tragedy, amid this house full of quiet and tyFant sleepers. lj0L .an(ia flung open her windows and let in the her i the chill breeze. She had a sense as if 8he *in £ 8 were in torment for want of air. Then c'&sn >m°tionless in the room, her hands loosely door Q- in front of her; her eyes fixed upon the f01lo ^th the wild stare still in them. Niko had the dwed her more slowly; he very gently opened "'as Oor of her room, and partly entered. Then he So arrested by her voice; that voice which had a P°wer to please, to charm. Now it had avi<JiH) P'easantness of sound; it was scarcely H yet it had a sharpness like a knife. V 0 not come here!" she said. face paused a moment, looking at her strange Then he threw up his arms suddenly with a "I gesture of despair. hhe to live through the hours till I can tele- renP exclaimed. For God's sake. Wanda, "y m r that! And I cannot stay alone." <■ j ,u afraid she said in the same voice. hut p°D ¥10w if't is fear" he answered gloomily, 8ort,e v ?r s^nce—ever since, I have longed to have Soni creature near me." perhn in his air of complete dejection Bjj v^P8 touched Wanda's heart. At all events a • change came in her mood. A new thought ,r> her mind. Her eyes grew less wild, though seemed to dilate and become larger as she >»a at At last the thought found utterance «, grange whisper: y did you kill him?" hijn IIro advanced a little, closed the door behind fie rpRn<* ^en stepped back and leaned against it. A her with a look of intense excitement, that bought flashed into Wanda's mind aPsthis man wasnot sane. But she did not Sci0llg ln her gaze. She was not afraid. A con- 1111." nes came to her from the expression she than a eyes that his love for her was greater At l°ther passion in his nature. Veheo^ answered her, speaking with sudden VaBu6CaUse I believed I had the right to kill him. I I believed I killed him in your very arms, then » ^t again if I saw what I thought I saw ^Pteff^63 had given her courage because they hinj his love. But now she trembled before had K! back a step, almost as if she 8corcn struck. For suddenly she felt the she fire of his jealousy, and realised it as the tn never done before. It flamed all through BUta.n; making him tremble. pj Jt Vanished as quickly as it had come. In SeetQgj6 ''he heavy gloom fell on him again, which '^lernK0 exPress a sort of desperate shame or ^ch i re £ ret- He went on speaking, in a tbat ower voice, with a hesitation and difficulty strangely after his recent rapid speech. that l what we have heard to-night, I gather believ IDt have been mistaken. I saw you, as I bid Z, in the dress I knew you were to wear. wear the dress, or you ?" kssly6 th wore it," answered Wanda, breath- Was it you or was it she whom I saw ?" The jg °) suddenly changing in manner again, to °U8y with which he was consumed seemed of madness, which could return as Wh as ever, roused by a word. «ere ?" exclaimed Wanda, desperately. I I h^v^ ^hat you mean." », elieve you capable of deceiving me even ^d^an Niko, with an awful sternness; he towards her; and as he did so Wanda, u hy what she saw in his face, sank upon J* the A moment ago she wore the aspect fc&rte J^ge, and he of the judged. Now their Pe3red to be reversed in an instant! "Ite re is that ring you received last night ?" Sent ^d," she said; before I left the theatre back. You can ask; they will tell you so." /?an '8 not your lover ?" "An,, No! I do not know him." Arth ^at Englishman?" ^6! j Ur I>ene ? Ah, Niko, how you have wronged the SWear to you by every'sacred name—in "that mother—in the name of my God tho^g, y°u alone of all men on the earth have any '\yj1 that I could be unfaithful to you." com^ y have you tormented me so? No man Whnre provocation you have given me." cr'ed Wanda suddenly raising herself yotjr er knees and standing before him, because 8uSpicions were an intolerable insult. You to e ine suffer—I am only a woman, and I longed itj j? e you suffer in return. Can you wonder at y^ember how you answered me when I told ..Arthur Dene is Zadwiga's husband!" ea:dwiga," repeated Niko. He stepped back y and looked about him with an anxious a^e t° endure before I can telegraph!" tyarij er a moment. ^0^^ looked at him very earnestly for a "To t; then she approached a step nearer. aSked om do you want to telegraph?" she apnia?ce(^.at her as if with surprise at her want K^tie ns'on> then answered with a sort of *ioii.ntce at being compelled to put anything so To t° words. Wh-i ,authorities at Jassy." Or?" she ftsk^d them to stop the trial till my arrival!" orlt ^?.red. The first steamer that ieaves New » I K Carry me whether there is room in it or ik?e titv?ave on]7 one horrible dread—it takes d ^t in ? f°r such news as this to be talked America. Zadwiga may be already con- tooOh, but that is impossible! It would A..re Uch!" LO\1l' going to give yourself up—to confess &erao L asked Wanda, her eyes growing k" ■ ,e looked in his face. nly I am!" answered Niko. If I had ^pherti he papers yesterday I could have tele- be J^t night!" ho t° pace about between Wanda and the Possessed with an intolerable restless- |he* hey will condemn you!" said Wanda. Of^km you!" j .§a j ne replied; but I must save Zad- is innocent! And at the moment when th ^ere *t "Was you, who had met him purposely h6at p0or ^'iiingly yielding to his embraces, it was fm.' 'n an agony of fear, unable to free Ywharjj. • him! I might have saved her from aw' ,n8tead, I plunged her into an unsus- W of horror! I must save her now J:1da. e Was it that this thing happened ?" asked 1 iibl'ary window of the Chateau Roman. t0^vanced to it from the inside; Demetri Msn •eet her from the darkness of the garden. JthouJw the darkness." caTf -Vou were 'n Paris ?" OJ:1t at her the strangest look, full of mixed fro eve the^ent," he answered. "I did not go Shbourhood. X ceturu|d to watch tie -¡;5t,¥ !t$.Q.i' Ü' Iíoík "To watch the chateau! Why?" Because I believed you loved Demetri, anu I wanted proof; and, if I could have proof, I wanted revenge. I believed I had ample proof. I took the revenge." Wanda fell upon her knees again, just where she was, in the midst of the room. Niko saw by her drooping head, her folded hands, her slightly- moving lips, that she was praying. He remained where he was, motionless; while she prayed he could not move about. For a long time they re- mained thus. The daylight grew a great deal stronger during the silence; perhaps an hour was passed in this way. Now and again he glanced at her face and quickly looked away again. It was a strange sight, that kneeling figure. The clear light streamed in full upon her; she still wore her white robe, the loveliest of all her theatrical dresses. Her face invested it with a new cha- racter instead of the fascinating toilette of a bril- liant actress it appeared like the white garment of a nun. At last she rose slowly and stood silent for a moment. But her face was all alight and trembling with emotion. She reached out her bands with a gesture which it would be difficult to interpret. Niko felt that there was something of love or of compassion in it. Niko," she said, we are each heavily punished for our passions!" He came nearer, and took her outstretched hands in his. There was a couch at the foot of Wanda's bed here these two sat through the dull, silent hours of early morning. Nothing was said after Wanda's words which showed her sense of sharing in this crime that had been done. She looked at the wall opposite her, seeing, not it, but her past, the mys- teries of her proud heart. But they remained close together; Wanda's hand lay in her husband's. In this hour of agony a great breach had been healed. At last there were faint footsteps in the passages, and dim sounds travelled to their ears from the kitchen of the hotel. This fearful night was at an end. The great interval between the gaiety of the supper and those sounds of every-day morning life appeared to these two as a time of acute feeling given to themselves alone; something which was apart from the doings or the lives of all other people in the world. Niko rose gently, loosing Wanda's hands from his. The office will be open now—or if not it will be very soon." A stifled cry burst, as it seemed, from her very heart. They will kill you Does it matter ?" said Niko, in a low voice. Such love as ours is more than life He moved away and waited for no answer from her; but as he reached the door he heard her speak, Dear God! be merciful!" He did not return until two hours later. During this time he had telegraphed to Jassy, and had ascertained that it was possible to start almost im- mediately upon the journey to Roumania. He then hurried to the hotel and went straight to Wanda's room. He found it totally changed, and Wanda herself transformed. Instead of a quiet place it had become a chaos; the maid was hard at work packing trunks. Wanda wore her grey travelling dress the veil was on her face, she was buttoning her long gloves. How soon do you start ?" asked she, the instant Niko appeared. "In an hour," he answered. I don't think Louisa can be ready," she said. She must come by a later steamer. I think she had better warehouse the trunks, and then go for a holiday to her friends in Paris." "But what do you mean to do?" exclaimed Niko, amazed. To come with you, of course," said Wanda. Then seeing his look of astonishment she cried out "Do you think I am made of stone? Don't you know I should die left here ?" But the theatre ?" he stammered. I will pay the forfeit," she said. I am going round now to the manager to tell him so. You ordered the carriage, Louisa ?" Yes, madame," answered the maid, who was all but utterly bewildered. Then I will go. I will tell them to give up my trunks at the theatre to you, Louisa you must warehouse them altogether. Niko, I will be back at the door again in the carriage in half-an-liour. Will that be in time ?" "Just, if you are punctual," answered Niko who, seeing her determination, wasted no time in further remark.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
CHAPTER XLVIII. It was a strange voyage, this crossing of the Atlantic, to these two. The whole peoples of the earth were obliterated to their mental vision; they were but conscious of three human beings—them- selves and Zadwiga. An agony of anxiety and remorse was lit up in their hearts by a vivid tenderness; each regarded the other as something newly discovered, until now obssurely seen and not understood. The confidence between them which had whollv passed away not long after their marriage was restored now in a new strength. A great solemnity lay upon them because of the sense that their future was so short. Niko knew that he was going to his doom, and he accepted the fact with a quiet matter-of-fact heroism which amazed Wanda. She had no idea that such a quality as this was in him. The reso- lution and vigour of his nature, which had made his revenge so sudden and certain, now made his expiation equally swift and sure. He had never hesitated as to his course of action in either case. Wanda never left her cabin except at night sometimes, when she would come out upon deck for a little while. The other passengers never saw her except by faint rays of starlight; if the moon was bright she remained below. Her strong imagination made it appear to her that people must see the tragedy in which she lived written on her face moreover, she could not endure the neighbourhood of those who were living in the slight joys and sorrows of everyday life. Her seclusion caused the strangest legends to be circu- lated among the passengers. Of course, everyone found out who she was; and naturally there was some disappointment at not being able to see the great actress close, to inspect her travelling dress and her complexion, and observe how she got on with her husband. That husband was an even greater mystery than herself, although he was often seen. He, until lately the most companion- able of men, now made friends with no one. The horror of being alone, the hunger for human associations had not left him; but, now that Wanda knew all the history of his crime and in spite of it had given him her love and sympathy, she appeared to him to be the only person in the world. All others were separated from them, creatures who lived in a different atmosphere, concerned them- selves with common-place affairs, and moved in a world of every day. To Niko it seemed as if a barrier were around himself and Wanda; they were in the very heat of a horrible tragedy and were more isolated than the actors on the stage, because they had no audience. Both were pos- sessed by one feverish, burning desire—to reach Zadwiga. The sea-voyage appeared to them intolerably tedious, although they were in one of the swiftest steamers and the weather favoured them. The sea was smooth and quiet; and all day Wanda lay in her berth feeling each hour to be an age, and wishing almost for the distraction of rough weather. Niko never left her side for more than a few minutes. His fierce restlessness compelled him to rove about, and he wandered continually on deck and about the ship. But he had hardly left Wanda a moment before the mysterious sensation returned upon him which drove him back to her; a fear of himself a horror of being alone with his own thoughts. The other passengers thought him the oddest, fiercest, most irrelevant specimen of a titled foreigner they had ever met with. The weary sea-voyage over, they felt as if the worst of the journey was at an end. It was possible to save time now; to hurry forward without food or rest. There was some satisfaction in doing this; and night and day they travelled on. Wanda's mind often went back to that horrible last journey to Jassy when it seemed as if an icy barrier was raised for ever between herself and Niko. It was a wonderful thing to her to realise, in the midst of her distress, how absolutely this barrier had vanished. Never again could it be created, for now they understood each other as they had never had done before and the sense which they had of sharing in this crime made each regard in a new light the faults of the other. Wanda felt as if the pride which had led her into provoking Niko's jealousy had gone from her for ever; she was filled with shame and humility. They seldom spoke in the course of the long sad journey; but they exchanged very often glances of the deep sympathy possible only to two who are suffering together. Nothing remained to be said in the long days upon the Atlantic the past had been all explained and their hearts had bepn laid bare. Now they knew but of one thought—to reach Zadwiga. Niko telegraphed again from Paris that he was on his way. But they stayed for no answers to his telegrams, so that they travelled on in total igrnorance of what condition Zadwiga might be in. The dread was always with them (though neither dared to word it) that they might be to late (To be continued.)
AN ENGLISH ADAPTATION OF LLYWARCH…
AN ENGLISH ADAPTATION OF LLYWARCH HEN. Apropos to a reference made in our London and Local Notes of Saturday last, we quote a con- tribution sent by Mr. C. Jobling to this week's Academy on the subject of Triplets," four original specimens of which are submitted. The writer says:—The following lines are written after a form of verse used by Welsh bards more than twelve centuries ago. My example is a poem by Llywarch Hen, which I found in an old book. It should be observed that the third line of each triplet con- tains a moral maxim not in any way connected with the subject of the song. My Magdalene! If fairer maid there be, Ye who have seen her, tell me, who is She ? Let GeniU8 er wed with Industry. My Magdalene! She reigns both Beauty's Queen And Queen of me—but still my Magdalene Eschew the lavuh-te?, tunes more, the mean. My Magdalene, for in her heart alone I reign supreme, nore'erhave rival known. Wed no light maid, tho'" Fair as Lady Done." My Magdalene! If happier youth there be, Ye who have seen him, tell me, who is He ? Keep out of debt, and laugh-at poverty. "Fair as Lady Done," Mr. Jobling adds, is a Cheshire proverb, of which he does not know the origin. If it be permissible to regard poetry with a utilitarian eye, it might be thought that the adop- tion of a useful maxim or proverb by way of refrain is an improvement upon the ordinary practice. Compare the foregoing specimen with Scott's well-known verse-ending," The sun shines fair on Carlyle Will," or the late Charles Stuart Calverley's "Butter and eggs and a pound of Cheese," which have no more to do with the text than any of the words in italics sup- plied by Mr. Jobling, and which labour under the double disadvantage of supplying nothing that is wanted by writer or reader in the way whether of rhyme or of reason.
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WEDDING BELLS.\
WEDDING BELLS. By THE REV. F. WAGSTAFF, F.R.H.S., Author of Odd Hours with Odd People," Dreamland," &c. IX.—WEDDING RINGS. Your wedding ring wears thin, dear wife; ah, summers not a few, Since I put it on your finger first, have passed o'er me and you And, love, what changes we have seen-what cares and pleasures, too, Since you became my own dear wife, when this old ring was new. So begins one of the sweetest of many beautiful poems which Dr. W.C.Bennett has given us during the last quarter of a century, and the lines may fittingly serve to introduce a column of prose anent a subject ever fresh and interesting—wed- ding rings. From the earliest period much signi- ficance has been associated with the ring. It has always been regarded as the type of eternity, and hence has ever been the emblem of stability and affection. Sentences expressive of this feeling were often inscribed upon their rings by the Greeks and Romans. Among these inscriptions were such as Remember!" I bring good for- tune to the wearer;" "I give my love pledge," &c. By the people of the earlier nations they were lavishly displayed; but, except as an indication of wealth or gentility, they were but little valued until Greek sentimentalism gave them a deeper significance. They were then brought into fre- quent use as a gift of affection or a sign of be- trothal, and the Jews made the ring a most impor- tant feature in the betrothal ceremony. The Jewish law required it to be of a certain specified value; and the officiating rabbi and chief officers of the synagogue were required to examine it carefully. It must be the bridegroom's absolute property—not borrowed, nor obtained on credit, or as a gift. The ownership and value being duly tested and certified, the ring is returned to the bridegroom, and by him placed on the bride's finger, he, at the same time, calling attention to the fact that she is thereby consecrated to him. So binding is this act regarded that it is said to be sufficient to constitute an indissoluble marriage, even if nothing else takes place. Swinburne, quoted by Brand, says that the ring was invented by Prometheus. "The workman who made it was Tubal Cain and Tubal Cain, by the counsel of our first parent, Adam (as Alberic de Rosa telleth me), gave it unto his son to this end that therewith he should espouse a wife, likeasAbraham deliveredunto his servant bracelets and ear-rings of gold. The form of the ring being circular, that is round and without end, importeth thus much, that their mutual love and hearty affection should roundly flow from the one to the other as in a circle, and that continually and for ever." It is clear that the use of the ring as a love token and an evidence of betrothal is very ancient; but it is not easy to trace the origin of its employ- ment as an integral part of the actual ceremony of marriage. In the Puritan age it was, rightly or wrongly, accounted of heathen origin, and in Hudibras" Butler alleges that it was contem- plated to abolish its use:— Others were for abolishing That tool of matrimony, a ring, With which th' unsanctified bridegroom Is married only to a thumb (As wise as ringing of a pig That used to hreak up ground and dig-); The bride, to nothing but her will. That nulls the after-marriage still. Why the fourth finger of the left hand should have become universally recognised as the ring finger" does not appear to be at all clearly settled. The most commonly received explanation is that, according to Sir Thomas Browne, "presuming therein that a particular vessel, nerve, vein, or artery is conferred thereto from the heart." To this suggestion, however, anatomists very properly object. Macrobius, more than a thousand years ago, gave an affectedly whimsical suggestion :— Pollex, or thumb (whose offices and general use- fulness are sufficiently indicated from its Latin derivative, polleo, and from its Greek equivalent, anticheir, which means as good as a hand'), is too busy to be set apart for any such special employ- ment the next finger to the thumb, being but half protected on that side, besides having other work to do, is also ineligible; the opprobrium attaching to the middle finger, called medicus, puts it entirely out of the question; and as the little finger stands exposed, and is, moreover, too puny to enter the lists in such a contest, the sponsal honours devolve naturally on pronumlms, the wed- ding finger." Medicus," we should explain, was the name anciently given to the middle finger, because the ancient physicians were accustomed to stir their medicines with its tip. In the British Apollo, 1788, it is urged that the fourth finger was chosen from its being not merely less used than either of the rest, but more capable of preserving a ring from bruises; having this one quality peculiar to itself, that it cannot be extended ex- cept in company with some other finger, whereas either of the rest may be stretched out to its full length and straightness." In the Middle Ages solemn betrothal by means of the ring often preceded matrimony, and was sometimes adopted between lovers who were about to separate for long periods. Chaucer, in his Troilus and Cresseide," describes the heroine as giving her lover a ring upon which a love motto was engraved and receiving one in return. Shaks- peare has more than one allusion to the custom, which is absolutely enacted in his Two Gentle- men of Verona," when Julia gives Proteus a ring, saying, "Keep you this remembrance for thy Julia's sake;" and he replies, Why, then, we'll make exchange here, take you this." Thejimmal, or gimmal, was a linked ring, made with a double and sometimes a triple link, which turned upon a point, and was so constructed that it could be shut up and form one solid ring. Thus Herrick says in Hesperides":— Thou sent'st to me a true-love-knot, but I Returned a ring of jimmals, to imply Thy love had one knot, mine a triple-tye. It was customary to break these rings asunder at the betrothal, which was ratified in a solemn man- ner over the Bible. Sometimes the ring would be broken in the presence of a witness; and, if a. triple one, the contracting parties would take one the upper and the other the lower portion, leaving the middle in the witness's possession. Then, when the marriage was duly celebrated, the three por- tions would be re-united, and the ring used for the ceremony. From the middle of the sixteenth to the close of the seventeenth centuries it was not un- usual to inscribe a motto or posie" within the hoop of the ring. Some of these are still in existence, and quaint and simple enough the posies are, being often in rhyme:— Our contract Was Heaven's act. In thee, my choice, I do rejoice. God above, Increase our love! Wedding cakes were probably stfarcefy so rich and unwholesome in olden times as they are now- 4-days; but their presence at the marriage feast is of very ancient date, and singular things were done in connection with them. Aubrey says:— When I was a little boy (before the Civil Wars) I have seen, according to the custome then, the bride and bridegroom kisse over the bride- cakes at the table. It was about the latter end of dinner; and the cakes were layd one upon another like the picture of the shew-bread in the old Bibles. The bridegroom waited at dinner." Pas- sing small pieces of wedding cake through the wedding ring is still supposed to impart some charm to the confectionery; and placed under the pillow at night cake so treated is thought to in- spire dreams of love and marriage. Many of the superstitions attaching to the wed- ding ring probably have their origin in the old Catholic custom of blessing it by the priest. Thus, in Ireland the ring being rubbed on a wart or a sore is thought to cure it; and in Somersetshire a stye on the eyelid is said to be removed in the same way. In some parts of Ireland a belief still exists that if a wart is pricked through a wedding ring with a thorn from a gooseberry bush it will gradually die away. Even stroking the ring across a wound is supposed to be of use in effecting a cure. Another wide-spread belief is that if a wife lose her wedding ring she will also lose her husband's affection, and if she should have the misfortune to break it her husband will shortly after die. Many married women will not take off their rings under any consideration, because the removal would portend the of the husband. An old saying is that as your wedding ring wears your cares will wear away." In this con- nection we may reproduce here an old form for "blessing" wedding rings, quoted from "The Doctrine of the Masse Booke" (1554):—" The hallowing of the woman's ring at wedding. Thou Maker and Conserver of mankinde, Gever of spiritual grace and Graunter of eternal salvation, Lord, send Thy X blessing upon this ring, that she which shall weare it maye be armed wyth the vertue of heavenly defense, and that it maye profit her to etornall salvation, thorowe Christ, &c. A prayer: Halow thou, Lord. this ring, which we blesse in Thy holye name; that what woman soever shall weare it may stand fast in Thy peace, and continue in Thy wyl, and live, and grow, and waxe old in Thy love, and be multiplied into that length of daise, thorowe our Lord, &c. Then let holy water be sprinkled upon the ring." Wedding favours have been general for many centuries. At one time a knot was worn as a symbol of love and friendship; but the phrase true-love knot" is said not to be derived from the English words of which it is apparently composed, but from the Danish trulofafidem, do, I plight my troth or faith." One of Gay's poems mentions the rustic method of tying the true-love knot:— As Lubberkin once slept beneath a tree, I twitched his dangling garter from his knee; He wist not when the hempen string I drew; Now mite I quickly doff of inkle blue, Together fast I tie the garters twain, And while I knit, the knot repeat this strain— Three times a true-lover's knot I tye secure, Firm be the knot, firm may his iove endure. Ribbons of many colours used to be worn in the hat, on the arm, at the knee, and on the breast, being freely distributed among the guests, even at weddings of persons of rank and station. White, as our fair readers well know, has become the fashionable colour in later times, from the delicate satin ribbon that ties up tiny packets of wedding cake to the rosettes worn by the postillions, or used to adorn the bridles of the horses that draw the carriages to church. (To be continued.)
THE BARRY DOCK BILL.
THE BARRY DOCK BILL. PROBABLE CONSEQUENCES OF A PROROGATION. [FROM OUR LOBBY CORRESPONDENT.J Some fears having been expressed that a sudden collapse of the session would decide the fate of private Bills—notably heavy measures like the Barry Dock Bill and the Manchester Ship Canal Bill-it may be well to state, for the informatior. of local readers who are interested pro or con. in the former measure, how the matter stands. The debate on the second reading of the Franchise Bill, which commences in the House of Lords to-night, will-almost as a matter of absolute certainty-result to-morrow in the acceptance of Earl Cairns' amendment, and the consequent rejection of the Bill. Mr. Gladstone will then (to use his own historical phrase) have to "consider his position." As usual, he will have three courses" open to him. He can either bow his head to the dictum of the Peers, whom he so contemptuously defied the other day, or he can appeal to the country forthwith, or he can wind up the business of the session, re- introduce the Franchise Bill in the autumn, and again send it up to the Lords. It goes without saying that he will not accept the amendment of Lord Cairns; and it is not at all probable that he will, without more ado, make an appeal to the con- stituencies. Everything points to the likelihood that the Prime Minister will take the third course -run through public business as speedily as possible, and call Parliament together again about the last week in October. But, whether there is to be a dissolution or an autumn session, the life of the present session will be very short. According to appearances (always assuming that the Peers throw out the Franchise Bill) Parliament will be prorogued about the middle of the second week in August. Then naturally arises the question, "How will private Bill legislation fare in this state of things ?" The Barry Dock Bill, having passed through the House of Commons, has been read a first time in the House of Lords. It has also passed the Examiner, and will be read a second time in the course of the present week. The Committee, pro- bably, will be struck to-morrow (Tuesday), and under no circumstances-except by a suspension of the Standing Orders—can it sit and take evidence before Thursday/ Much more probably it will not meet until next week, or, perhaps, the week after. Assuming that the Committee begins its delibe rations on Monday, the 14th inst., and sits five days each week, it would have fifteen or sixteen clear days at its disposal, and might succeed in mastering all the facts and arguments in that time, thus leaving three or four clear days for the re- maining stages of report and third reading and the Royal Assent-always, it is needless to say, having in mind the supposition that the Com- mittee will see fit to sanction the scheme which Mr. David Davies, M.P., and his friends are pro- moting. It must be borne in mind, too, that a day's work in a Lords' Committee means considerably more than a day's work before a Committee of the House of Commons. The former sits from eleven o'clock until five, whereas the latter meets at noon and rises at four, when the magic intimation, "Mr. Speaker at prayers," is made. It is true that during the latter days of the Barry Dock Bill be- fore Mr. Foljambe's Committee this session the hour of meeting was eleven, but the circumstances were exceptional, and exceptional expedients were, therefore, resorted to. By special leave of the House of Lords, coupled with an act of self-denial on the part of its mem- bers, the Committee could sit on Saturdays, but such a step is by no means probable. The employ- ment of such sittings would give the Committee three days more (or nineteen days in all), which would be about equal, in point of hours, to 25 days in the Commons. The Bill, when before Mr Foljambe's Committee, occupied 33 days. It will thus be seen that, even if the session comes to a premature close, there is every probability of a Barry Dock Bill being able to pro- ceed at a leisurely pace through the House of Lords. Perhaps, however, the Committee may not assemble so early as the 14th inst. but, on the other hand, it is notorious that proceedings before Lords' Committees are seldom so protracted as those before Committees of the Commons. After all the foregoing considerations have been duly weighed, however, it is only natural, seeing the enormous expense which the Bill has thrown upon the parties, that speculation should be rife as to what would happen in case of the proroga- tion coming suddenly upon the Committee while yet in the midst of its labours. Would the Bill have to be Degun de novo next session ?" is a question which we have been asked more than once. Curiously enough, that great authority upon Parliamentary procedure, Sir Erskine May, is singularly obscure upon the point, but precedents answer the inquiry in the negative. In former times the subject appears to have been in a chaotic and unsatisfactory state, but in 1859 orders were made enabling the promoters of private Bills to suspend further proceedings, and affording facilities for going on with the same Bills without repeating proofs of compliance with the Standing Orders, and other formalities, in the next session. That amount of light is shed upon the subject by Sir Erskine May. But a further step was taken in 1880. An arrangement was then come to by which the evidence itself and the stages which the Bills had actually reached were preserved; and there is no doubt at all that Parliament would sanction a similar arrangement now, if circumstances ren- dered the step necessary. On the re-assembling of a new Parliament, or the meeting of the existing Parliament after the proro. gation, the Barry Dock Bill would, therefore, be taken up at the stage at which it was left off, and if the old Committee could not., from any cause, be constituted with precisely the same personnel as before, the new member or members would read the evidence previously taken. This knowledge must be agreeable to promoters and opponents alike, for neither desire to throw money into the sea." Though the case of the Great Northern Bill, pro- moted many years ago, is not precisely in point, it has an interesting bearing upon the treatment by Parliament of verv voluminous private Bills. The Great Northern Bill—for the construction of the railway from London to York—was of so gigantic a character that it was found impossible to get it through both Houses in a single session. Accord. ingly, the expedient was adopted of obtaining a Suspensory Act, which enabled the measure to be taken up and completed in the follow- ing session. In that instance, however, there was no question of a Ministerial crisis or an abrupt close of the session, the only matter for consideration, being the length of the Bill and the mass of evidence bearing upon it. To sum up the matter in one sentence, if the Barry Dock Bill is not finished (though almost certainly it will be) by the time Parliament rises, the stages through which it has already passed will hold good next session. SELECTION OF THE LORDS' COMMITTEE. Our London correspondent telegraphs: The Committee of Selection of the House of Lords assembled on Tuesday evening for the purpose of considering the appointment of a Committee to deal with the above Bill. The selection of mem- bers occupied some time, and I understand that the following will be the constitution of the Com- mittee :-The Marquess of Waterford, Lord Zouche, Viscount Canterbury, the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe, and Lord Castletown. It was reported to the House that the selection had been made, and that the Committee will meet on Thursday morning for the taking of evidence in connection with the proposed undertaking.
HUNTING UP AN AGITATION.I
HUNTING UP AN AGITATION. "PUBLIC" OPINION OF THE LORDS AND THE FRANCHISE BILL. LEAVES FROM THE DIARY OF OUR SPECIAL COMMISSIONER. ST. DAVID'S HEAD, TUESDAY AFTERNOON. Your telegram found me here, sir, the farthest point I could get unless I chose to cross the Atlantic and go right away into the States. What have I been doing ?" you ask. Well, trying to find out the man who in Gwent or Morganwg, Sir Gaer, Sir Benfro, or Sir Aberteifi (I hope your contemporary won't go looking up the Baronetage" for these names) cares a brass button about the fate of the Franchise Bill, or who wishes harm to the Lords because they have the courage to give an independent vote in defiance of the Premier and all his threats. I should have apprised you sooner of the result of my inquiries, only I thought it a thing which would keep. I can understand your anxiety well enough; but remember this, sir, mine are bond fide inquiries. I do not put my faith in circulars, filled in by local correspondents, who trust to the" office" to get them up for the oven with a spicing of Scotch Welsh to give them the appearance of the genuine article. No, sir, pie of that sort would not do for you, for me, or for your readers, among which latter I know a great many who happen to be past the age at which they are to be caught by put- ting salt upon their tails. I resolved to get up my matter by personal investigation, and the result you shall know if you will only have a little patience. I first took a run round CARDIFF, where I found the great body of public opinion to be so thoroughly Conservative that I did not think it worth my while to waste much of my time there. One man, noted for his "extreme" opinions, said, in answer to my question as to the probable effect of the rejection of the Franchise Bill by the Lords, that he was going to vote straight for Harben, and I had better dry up." Hoping for better luck next time, I betook me to the house of a personage who, I was assured, was a thoroughly orthodox Radical, and from him I got the opinion that The 'ouse of Lords had better mind what they was up to. The state of the country was perfeckly scandlus; the public morals was frightful and, to make things wuss, they was now goin' to agitate to open the public-'ouses on Sundays agren. It was quite offle to think what we was comin' to." I was afterwards told that this worthy personage was the proprietor of a bogus club. To such a pass have the Lords brought public opinion in Cardiff. NEWPORT I found to be rather quiet. The Liberal party there happened, so his wife said, to be hout." I tried to elicit from her what his views were, but the woman had a deplorable knack of answering one question by asking another. "The Lords? she said, what do you mean ? I replied, Do you think the great Liberal party of this borough, which, I understand, is your husband, will take it amiss if the Lords throw out the Franchise Bill ? In return, she wanted to know whether I thought there was any lunatic asylum nearer than Aberga- venny, turned on her heel, slammed the door in my face, and I was left, like the father of Lord Ullin's daughter," lamenting. In sheer despe- ration I button-holed the very next person I met, plied him with the same interro- gatories, and got for answer, "Codes next time, my boy. Carbutt ain't in it if he thinks to rob us of our glass of beer on a Sunday." I took my leave siw several other people, and only gave up the chase when, addressing a man of pretty well developed muscle with the usual Can you tell me, &c. he cut me short with the remark No, but I can punch your head." And it is to this the Lords are bringing us! At PONTYPOOL I was assured that the matter had been for several days under discussion at a sort of Mutual Im- provement Society," started by the young men of the College for their own exclusive benefit directly after the late Conservative meeting at the Town-hall. The result had not yet transpired, but everybody appeared to think no harm would come of the "Improvement" business, particu- larly to the young men, who might take in a lot of it without being much the worse. Such is the. miserable result of the policy of the Peers at Fontypool. Proceeding next to the Metropolis of Monmouthshire, PONTYMOEI., I found the place in a state of wild excitement. The news boy had stopped the supply of papers to a man who wouldn't pay, and whose wife had told the news boy's mother she remembered her before ever she came to the place, so she needn't put on airs to her betters." The town was in total darkness; chaos had come again, and confusion reigned supreme. That is what the Lords have done for this great town. SWANSEA I left after a very arduous day's work. Public opinion here seemed divided upon the point whether it were better for Mr. Dillwyn to disestablish the band at Cwmdonkin Park or for the band at Cwmdonkin Park to be allowed to play The March of the Men of Harlech" in the gallery of the House of Commons while Mr. Dillwyn makes his attack on the English Church. The town is to be balloted on the subject, votes to be collected in envelopes opened by Dr." Rees, the new president of the Congregational Union. In MERTHYB the Dissenting and Radical portion of the in- habitants were waiting to hear what the District Nonconformist Association thought of the matter The secretary of that eminently sleepy body having recently retired with a testimonial," it was not expected that. business would be resumed for some time. At ABERDARE I had a narrow escape of being run in as a suspect." I had borrowed a lantern to search for the Liberal party. The people there wished every- body would mind his own business and leave Gladstone fight it out hiself if he wanted to," the old windbag. NEATH was all for" Burn and the Baptists." No less than fifteen different people offered to lay odds that the new chapel would knock the old one into a cocked hat; and that" Burn's" successor would very soon find himself preaching to a congregation of only one family. Clearly the Lords are working mis- chief here. CARMARTHEN I re-visited after the appearance of the first batch of reports" in a certain turf oracle. I resumed my inquiries, but speedily gave them up in disgust. The people here were too anxious to know who did my washing, and whether I was quite certain my mother knew I had left home. They are alto- gether too knowing at Carmarthen. Emlyn," said a man of the farming class to me, was a real brick, and no doubt most other lords were like him. Even if they weren't he didn't care. Lord Emlyn was the only lord they troubled about in those parts." The Peers have much to answer for at Carmarthen. My visit to HAVERFORDWEST was productive of great good. I learned the ex- traordinary but perhaps not vory unnatural fact that the inhabitants were going to agitate for making a lord of every single member of the Lower House. There will then," they say, be no necessity for incurring the expense of a con- tested election, or for getting a lord to represent us who will give us the slip at the bidding of the Caucus. Let us have a real live lord, permanently elected and independent, not a Brummagem one, who is danced on a Schnadhorst string." If this good and simple plan be carried into effect, Mr. Labouchere need not trouble the Premier with his motion for the creation of Radical peers. CARDIGAN I left precipitately. The Radicals of this town are in such a chronic state of impecuniosity (a phrase, I fancy, I have seen before) that it. would have meant ruin for me to have kept on standing drinks for them. I was informed on most excellent authority that sending round the hat was now a recognised ceremony at all their meetings, and that according to Association rules the member who scoffed at the proceeding was liable to a fine of twopence-Ievyable by send- ing round the hat again. To such a pass have the Lords brought Cardigan. Having run through my list of small towns and given you, to the best of myability, a fair epitome of the state of "public" opinion therein, I shall to-morow detail my ex- periences of the larger and more influential centres, beginning with Cwmscwt and ending with Ponty- tytogwellt, taking in my way the classical Craig Evan Leyshon and the academical Llanfair- p wllgwyngyllgogery chwyrndro bwlltyssilogogoch, whose views it were heresy to question, and whose very name is one at which the world, and conse- quently the House of Lords, grows pale. P.S.—I say, sir, it isn't fair, really. Here you've allowed me, a born Welshman, who speaks his mother tongue as if sisial iaith y Saeson were entirely unknown to him, you've allowed me, I say, to go from home unprotected and alone, with- out furnishing me with one single phrase of Cymraeg. Couldn't you have given me the Trech ffwldd nac Arqlwydd tip in time for the first instal- ment of my report. Why I've actually written up without once showing off my-ignorance. This is what comes of not being a Scotchman yourself, nor being employed upon a Scotch paper. It is perfectly disgusting, sir, upon my word. If the thing occurs again I shall strike without further ^warnin^orremonattance.
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TO CORRESPONDENTS. ENGLISH Poetry intended for insertion in the Weekly Mail should be addressed to the Editor, at the Oardiff offices of the pilper; all Welsh compositions to Dewi Wyn o Essyllt, Pontypridd. CORRESPONDICKTS who wish their unused MSS. re- turned must in all cases enclose stamps for that purpose.
BARDDONIAETH.
BARDDONIAETH. "LTINTXLATR AS FARWOLAETH CHARLES JAMES," &c.-Teimladwy iawn, fel arfer. Cant ymddan- gosyn ein nesaf. CIST Y BARDD."—Cist werthfawr yw hon; go- beithiwn na welir ei gwaelod am dipyn. Methodd a'n cyrhaedd mewn pryd yr wythnoe ddiweddaf neu buasai ei chynwysiad yn cael y lIe blaenaf yn ein colofn. Rhyw rare bits yw yr oil sydd yn deilliaw olr gist hon. Diolch yn fawr i Tawenog am danynt. Gobeithiwn fod v Weekly Mail yn cael ei anfon yn gvson a diffael iddo. "AFON TEIFI."—Englyn pert iawn. Rhagor o fath y rhai hyn o'r gist, a'r Hilyw sydd arnom eu heisiau. EVGLYN J'R WIWAIR, J'R DRYW, AC r'R E08. Diolch yn fawr i Merlvn y maent oil yn dda odiaeth. "Y GLOWR," gan Hilyw.—Da iawn, Hilyw, vn wir; y mae eich penillion tyner ac apeliadol yn enill ein cvdymdeimlad. "DAU ENGLYN I'R Goa."—Dau englyn llithrig a thlws, yn neillduol felly yr un cyntaf. Melus moes.
Y DEILDY AR Y DDOL.
Y DEILDY AR Y DDOL. Mae hiraeth arnaf ar bob pryd. 0 fysbryd nid ymid, Am lanerch hoff o fewn y byd. Sy'n orlawn o fwynhad Adgofion fy ieuenctyd lion Flynyddau maith yn cl, Fy nghalon lama'r fynvd hon l'r deildy ar y ddol. Mae llais yr awel yma thraw Yn sibrwd, tyrld vn ol; Mae croesaw iti ar bob llaw I'r deildy ar v ddol. Y nos Itf ar freuddwydiol hynt I dramwy yma thraw, Gan gyfarch hen gyfeillion gynt. A serchog ysgwyd llaw 'Rol rhodio hyd y llwybrau cun, A gorphwys yn eu 'stol, Dadhuno'n allud caf fy hun O'r deildy ar y ddôl. Mae llais yr awel yma thraw, ftc. Af eto'n ol i dv fv nhad, Os gofyn nèb-paham ? Fy ysbryd ag ef nid ymäd- Hen aelwvd chweg fy mam; Dymunai yma orphen byw, Yr hyn sydd i mi'n ol, Fy enaid cymer di, fy Saw, O'r deildy ar y ddol. Mae llais yr awel yma thraw Yn sibrwd, t.-yr ,d yn ol; Ceir nef yn gartref maes o law O'r deildy ar y ddol. America. OWAIN IFOR. Y VFAWR. Nod y Vofnadwy—yw trechu byd Trwy awch boat a mwympwy; Yn ei chldd myn fod yn fwy Na'r lydan fro weladwy. GWILYM ELUN. Y CRYD. Y cryd hoff, llawn cariad yw-ei iesin Gynwvsiad digyfryw; Uwch ei ben seinia menyw Dlos hun-gan i'w baban byw. W. ROBERTS, Y DRYCH. Yn y drvch pan edrycho-un, fe wêl 1 fyw eulyn ynddo; Aoes un all arlunio Gyda'i bwyntel fel y fo ? Porthmadog. War. ROBERTS. CIST Y BARDD. YR ATHEIST (GWAHODDIAD I BEN Y WYDDFA). O! Atheist! vmlwybra weithian-heb oed I ben Gwyddfa anian Troa yma, ddeist, truan I wel'd Duw mewn haul o dAn. Medi 15,1883. HWFA MON. Y FREXI FAWn YN NYFED. Un freiniawl yw y Freni,-un gudeg, Ar gedyrn sail-feini; A dewr saif oesau diri, Dua'r haul cyn mudir hi. Carn ÂLA". Y BEIBL. Prif flwch lor yn llawn trysorau-i'r byd YWr Beibl—b-.lm eneidiau 'Wyllys fad—dadblygiadau, 0 Dduw i ddyn bryfyn brau. lXUAN UORQAirWG. Y "BUOY." Un i fod yn notiedydd-ydyw'r buoy. It oda'r his a'r creigydd Ar y dwfn n ngoleu dvdd, I forwr mae'n gyfeirydd. R. WILLIAMS. AIT OLD WEATHER-BEATEN BAILOR" yn ymlusgo o ddrws i ddrws am ei damaid yn ei hen ddyddiau. Rhyw longwr o liwangau,—a m«uhiant Sy'n 'mwthio i'n drysau Yn ol o bob congl i'w bau, I farw daeth o'i fordeithiau. Porthmadog. R. WILLIAMS. Y DDANODD. Ow i b'le'r Itf rhag cabl y rheg,—Ow Ow 1 'r Ddanodd wyllt ddiosteg; Byw'r ydwyf trwy'm ber adeg, Aphoenau nghorfi yn 'y ngheg. Dswi HAFHISP. Y LLYTIRYRDY. Dwyn nodded a newvddion-i'w ardal Wna'r llythvrdy'n yson Hefvd draw, mewn distaw don, Fe rana bob cyfrinion. POSTMAN. Y CBILIOG. Y celliog fedd gldg felfed sr;1An,-ei lais S' glir fel clod arian; A'i swynol blygeiniol gS.n, Geilw y wawr o'i gwu arian. PWY YW'H ÂWIIwa? ETTO. Borau drdd o'i bair dvddan.-y oeiliog Hwylus, a rydd gynpn Ac i'r bywiog ieir buan, A chrib edch, arab y câIl. PWY YW'B AWDWR ? ETTO. Adeiniog brotfwyd anian-I swynol Ber seiniau bireugin; A syw-deg grib fal sidan, A.'r clog glwys yw'r ceiliog gJAn. ETTO. Gwr y illr, edn gwftr yw o,-ab Awsn, Bywiog iawn ei oSlo; A'i adenydd am dano, Ei gin yw goco-go-go. DUTDD MORGANWG. Fel y canlyn y cana 0. W. Jones;- TALWEHYDD I'R GLOWR. Gwr vw hwn, bywiog a rhydd—gyda'i waith. fidug dftn i n haelw dvdd; Y' Hanfodion ei gysuron sydd Mewn glo mini o gõl y mynydd. Hafod-y-Gfln. GUIJ EXONDDA. AFON TEIFI. o fawnog, fryniog fronilu-yn Ffair Bugna'i ffrwd ei dechrau Drwy'r mawndir gwelir hi'n gwau Cullinynrbwng ceulanau. A ymlaen gan yrnlenWÍ-ar y dwr, A red o hyd idill; Mae Tregaron yn lloni Drwy gael ei dwr a'i gwel'd hi. Ymlaen o hyd mae'n myned-yn ei thaith, Weithiau'n araf gerdded; Eilwaith fel vr awel rhed Gyr ar y goriwaered. Hi bAr i Lanbedr edrych-yn lion ar Ei llun vn ei gloewddrycb Oar droi mewn orwy rau mynych Drw. ei gellt a'i doldir g., ych. Llanybydder, nid erys,—Llandyssil Llawn duwiesau dilys Rhydd ddeudro gan rwydd ddadrys, Gbdy eu bro gyda brys. Emlvn wen, ymlaen bi &,—rhoi vspone W na. dros ben y Dreifa; Yna i Genarth disgyna A'i dwr deitl yn rhaiadr da. o dan Llechryd naill-ochra,—hen Gwarel Cilgerran orchiyga; I"r dwr mOr dewr ymyra, Bwrw'i nhertli i'n Haber wna. MERL YN. Bu'r englynion uchod yn fnddugol (tae fateram hyny) yn Eist.eddod Strata Florida flynyddau yn ol. ENGLYN I'R WIWAIR. Un bron yn gynffon i gyd-yw'r wiwair Hoew sv n llawn bywyd, A fel yr awel ar hyd Y llwyn mewn llai na mynyd. MERLYN. ENGLYN I'R DRYW. (Buddugol). Nid oes cltn ddoniol ganddo—na thy gwych, Na theg wisg am dano, Ei orfawr fychandra lo Wnaith un y n hoff o hono. ENGLYN I'R EOS. Uwch canu mae 'mhlith bechgynos-y dydd Drv'n fud oil y cyfnos Ond dali wneyd telyn nos A fyn hi, y fwyn Eos. MERL1"X. Y GLOWR. Y glowr du. mae ar ei wedd n argraffedig ddewrder cun, Yn ami fawn yn clodio bedd, Tn eigion daear iddo'i hun; A cholofn fydd y mynydd ban, Yn gofeb oesol uwch y fan. Cychwyna'n foreu at e! walth Odan chwibanu'rcywir lion. Heb feddwl fawr mai'r olaf daith I'r lofa fydd y siwrn .i hon Mae ei bervglon, lowr byf, Yn hyll eu gwedd, a mwy na rhif. Llafuriau yn y twnel pell, Yn nghanof yr elfenau certh, Cytarwydd yw'r danebwa hell Sy'n anorchfygol yn ei nerth Nid oes un elfen dan v nef Eill byth a liadd ei ddewrder ef. Er iddo gychwyn gydn'r wawr, A blin lafurio byd y Er hyny gyd rhyw ddyn ar lawr, Yw'r glowr druan yn y ffós; Un helbul ar ol belbul sydd Yn ei orddiwes ef bob dydd. Bu dan draed newyn lawer gwalth, A nod i ddirmyg, igiom. a gwawd, Ond goddef wnai er mwyn y saith A garai vn ei fwthyn tlawd A dyna'r lie a'r unig fan Y cydymdeimlir gvda'r gwan. A oes eill ddweyd i mi ba brvd Yrysgafnheir ei letbog bwn ? Neu a broffwvda bryd daw'r byd I weled defnyddioldeb hwn ? Mae'n haeddu cydymdeimlad rhad, A gwir gefnogaeth gan ei wind. Ond os nad yw ond glowr tlawd, Dau erlidiadau braidd o hyd, 1[1 a'¡ harddelaf ef yn frawd Tra fyddo Vma yn y byd; Nid oes a dyr y ddolen gref 8y'n fy nghysylltu i ag ef. Glyn-terrace, Tredegar. HILYW. DAU ENGLYN Ar ol clywed y Gog yn pyncio yn agoa i'm bwth neithiwr. Y Gôg hynod a'i gêg anwyl—sy'n hynaws Heno'n cynal cylchwyl; Mawr roeso wrth fy mhreswyl, Qtyda'i £ fiju i £ »aw gwyU il Rhyw bregeth fêr o'r brigyn,—gvfaddas Aghaf iddi'n destyn; Neu od araith aderyn, Yn wir rhodd Duw er hedd dyn, HILYW. MARTIN LIGHTFOOT'S SONG. Come hearken, hearken, gentles all, Come hearken unto me, And I'll sing you a song of a Wood-Lvon Came swimming out over the sea. He ranged west, he ranged east, And far and wide ranged he He took his bite out of every beast Lives under the greenwood tree. Then by there came a silly o'id wolf, And I'll serve you." quoth lie; Quoi,h the Lyon, My paw is heavy enough, So what wilt thou do for me ?" Then by there came a cunning old fox, And I'll serve you," quoth he Qu'th the Lyon My wits are sharp enough, too what wilt thou do for me ?" Then by there came a white, white dove, Flew off Our Lady's knee Bang" It's I will be your true, true love, If voull, be true to me." And what will you do, you bonny white dove ? And what will you do tor me ?" -1 Oh, it's I'll bring you to Our Lady's love, In the ways of chivalrie." He toi lowed the dove that W..od-LYOll By mere and wood and wold, Till he is come to a perfect knight. Like the Paladin of old. He ranged east, he ranged west, Ard far and wide ranged he— And ever the dove won him honour and fame In the ways of chivalrie. Then by there came a foul old sow, Came rookling under the tree And It's I will be true love to you, If you'll be true to me." And what wilt thou do, thou foul old sow? And what wilt thou do for me ?" •' Oh, there hangs in my snout a jewel of gold, And that will I give to thee." He took to the sow that Wood-Lyon To the rookling sow took be; And the dove flew up to Our Lady's bosom; And never again throve he, CHARLES KINOSLICY in the English. Illustrated Magazine fjrJuly.
A BEAUTIFUL FIEND.
A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. LA CARAMBODA, THE MEXICAN BRIGAND. Few of us have heard of La Caramboda, the female brigand of Mexico. We have female brigands in London, no doubt, but their natures are coarse, and they lack that spice of romance which surrounds such characters in Mexico. They are too near home. Now, La Caramboda's career would furnish material for a thrilling novel. She was beautiful as a houri, with long black hair, brilliant eyes, a clear complexion, of commanding stature-in fact, a regular Venus (when in repose). But woe to those who came across her in her schemes of blood and pillage. She never forgot and never forgave—this terrible woman! What a chance has Ouida lost! We should have dubbed her a fiend in petticoats," but she dis- dained such things as commonplace. Her robberies were masterpieces of ingenuity. No two of them were done in the same manner. Her gang, or, to speak more politely, her male assistants, numbered many and devoted spirits. One of her schemes was to bide her time in some town until she found one or two men of means who were going by the diligence to some distant point and then to take passage with them. More than once she took the drivei into her confidence, but when this could not be done she readily deceived him or quieted him with a bullet. A perfect mistress of the art of dissimulation, and possessing a soft and insinuating manner, she had no difficulty in working herself into the good graces of travel- lers. who did not look for a Mexican bandit under her attractive guise. In this way she easily disco- vered who had money and valuables and who had not. If she found a man who appeared to be of some consequence, but who did not have much money, she betrayed him into the hands of her confede- rates, who held him for a ransom. If her victim proved to be well supplied with cash, he usually met with a violent death within 24 hours. Leaving a town before davbreak in company with two travellers whom she had marked for robbery, she would coyly accept the customary innocent atten- tions at their hands, and perhaps indulge in a little conversation with them. An hour later, when well on her journey, watching her oppor- tunity, she would draw two revolvers, and before they could detect her movement lodge a bullet in the back of each of them. The driver, busy with his team, and perhaps paid not to be too attentive te what was going on behind him, would not disturb her. With her booty secure, she would take her own time about leaving the stage, always waiting till a point convenient to the fastness of some of her confederates was reached. It was known that the highways were infested by robbers, and it was not thought strange that an occasional murder was per- petrated, but the similarity between several cases soon attracted attention, and various experi- ments led to the discovery that a woman, operating first on one road and then on another, was at the bottom of them. The plausible btories told by the drivers served to mystify the officers more than anything else. They always asserted that high- waymen had done the work, and if inquiry was made at one end of the route for the woman whr started it was always said that she arrived at he: destination unmolested. The absence of tele- graphs and of any regular means of communica tion made it possible to keep up this deception foi a long time. When the woman found that she waf suspected, she abandoned this plan of operations, and, remaining with the robber band to which she was attached, devoted the greater part of her time to the abduction of wealthy agriculturists. Her plan in these cases was very much the same as in her stage robbery enterprises. First winning the confidence of her intended victim, anri getting him involved in some intrigue, she would betray him at the proper time into the hands of her associates, who would spirit him away and presently open negotiations for his return. While these were in progress she would be busy setting her net for a fresh victim 100 miles away. Poor La Caramboda had many lovers, many detractors; but she was a remarkable woman, and died game to the last. She was hovering about the San Juanico hacienda, with the intention of securing the abduction of the good Don Civelo Yasquez or one of bis sons, when a dastardly fellow, who had long served in her tra.in. deserted and com- municated her secret to the authorities. By treachery she was made prisoner. Her friends tried a rescue. A scrimmage followed, and t bullet from one of her own set crashed through her brain. The chains were removed from her limbs. She was buried by the roadside.
iTRUTH IN ARf.
TRUTH IN ARf. In the Notes at an International Art Exhibi- tion" of a very able critic in this week's Spectator, occurs a striking passage of which the applicability is not confined to painting merely. There is a prudery growing over us in matters of art- whether the art be that of fiction, of poetry, or (if this be an art) of ethics—which is detestabk because of the falsehood that lurks like a snake at its core. Comparing English art with French the writer may be found saying that, after all, this nation of France takes a far wider sweep in its art than does England, its crudi- ties, follies, and occasional repulsiveness notwithstanding. This is seen more espe- cially in its figure work, especially in its genre painting. Often garish, immoral, extravagant, and bizarre, it nevertheless covers the whole ground of its subject; its limitations are no other than those of the artist's own creating. In England-well, in England it is otherwise. The Handwriting on the Wall I of Mrs. Grundy startles all the revellers of our artistic feast; before the pale shadow of that awful female oui painters tremble and despair. For in very truth, we English are a hypocritical nation, and must be respectable in outward seeming, what ever lies hidden in our hearts. No bald, indecently un-clothed truths for us in art or literature. And so comes the orange-peel and water instead of wine, and everyone I makes believe a good deal.' and finds the vintage superb. Between the Parisian who flaunts his immorality in OUT face, and half whose figure-painting smells of the theatre or the casino, and the Englishman who tries to ignore every painful or irregular Mde of life, anr paints it as if it were a perpetual Sunday Schoo treat, there is surely some medium in which the artist might go more truly and no less safely. Que diaue we are men, and not schoolgirls!' as Lawrence makes one of his characters say and artistic speech need neither be demoralising nor pernicious because it touches all the subjects which form a part of our life. Light!' as Coleridge said, 'even if it break through a chink in the walls of the Temple. It is only when thinking of this Bowdlerising out of sight of everything natural because of some fancied impurity connected with it-existent nowhere so much as in the minds of 11 the Bowdlers-that the extraordinary prayer in iJolores becomes at all intelligible— All, forgive ns our virtues, forgive us, Our Ladv of Pain
THE MISSION OF THE MAORI KING.
THE MISSION OF THE MAORI KING. A conference was held on Monday at the Salis- bury Hotel, London, to -consider the mission of the Maori King to this country. Among those pre- sent were Messrs. Fry, Cropper, and A. M'Arthur, members of Parliament. The King and Major Te Wheoro attended, and Te Wheoro, replying to questions put through the interpreter, said they did not object to railways and roads being made through their country, but complained that when anv road was made the land five miles on either side of it was claimed by the English. If they permitted the introduction of roads and railway their lands would thus very soon be appropriated Tbev also complained of being constantly trampled under foot. King Tawhiao expressed Iiif gratitude for what had been done, for him, anc expressed the hope that England would aiwav cherish and protect his people. A deputation wil wait upon Lord Derby in the course of a fev days.
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FEMININE FANCIES,\ iFOIBLES,…
FEMININE FANCIES, FOIBLES, AND FASHIONS. By A LADY. ( (All Rights Reserved.) Were it painless and possible to take off one's flesh and sit in one's bones just now, I think a good many of us would be glad to reduce our- selves to that skeleton condition, provided only one could ensure rehabilitation when the weather again becomes normal. The garment of mortality, however, is not to be put off and on at will like ordinary clothing, so we must needs bear the in- convenience and take other means to alleviate the great bodily discomfort caused by this tropical heat. The sea here resembles glass, nqt a ripple appears, and the vessels dotted upon its surface look just like painted ships upon a painted ocean. The air is dull and heavy, and the sun is like molten fire, burning the sands with its fervour, and tempering to a white heat the chalky cliffs. Not a vestige of shade to be found anywhere. Oh, for a big cypress or cedar or any umbrageous or other shelter soever. One lady I see has set up a big Japanese umbrella, but its brilliant red canopy makes one gasp as we behold it, and the owner seems literally frizzling beneath it. I fancy a good big carriage umbrella would be a better protector, though certainly less picturesque. London, I hear, is literally a burning fiery furnace, a place only fit for Salamanders, and a merry little correspondent declares that if this weather continues a pool of grease will be her only remains. I am going to suggest one or two simple measures for counteracting the influence of this torrid season; but, with the adverse fate of most journalists who write a few days in advance of publication, I expect my hints will be rendered void by a change of weather. However, as summer is not yet over, the said hints, if not needed now, may be laid up for a future occasion sure not to be very far off. Sun blinds are popular, and they exclude the sun's rays, but will not keep out hot air. In towns we could not guarantee immunity from unwelcome intrusion were we to leave the hall door open and hang a wet sheet or blanket across the threshold. But this plan ensures a most delightful freshness. Dwellers in the provinces can, however, carry out my suggestion with safety. Anyone may hang a well- saturated table-cloth or thin sheet over the open window, setting the door wide open to induce a current of air. And it is surprising what a delicious coolness takes the place of heat, and how the oppressed sensations are re- lieved by the evaporation which takes place. To keep the cloth continually wet it is a good plan to have a bucket of water handy, with bannister brush or broom in it ready to sprinkle the cloth afresh. Tljirst is often a disagreeable accompani- ment of extreme bodily heat; but we do well to restrain our inclination to imbibe, for too great indulgence in fluids does but aggravate the suffer- ing, from which a deep draught affords but tempo- rary relief. It is better, if possible, to take fruit to slake thirst, but, then, it should be fresh fruit, Stale and flaccid produce is often sold for freshly-gathered fruit, and, now that cholera is threatening us, every known precaution should be observed, lest we tempt a visitation of that fearful scourge. With small-pox and typhoid fever raging in London, it behoves each of us in- dividually to adopt all recognised measures for preventing the spread of such terrible enemies to human life. Selfishness, ignorance, and inadver- tence are alike factors in the dissemination of evils of the kind but there is no need for panic. Having done all that sense and reason, combined with medical authority, suggest, we may venture to hope for escape. People in London are being vaccinated in shoals, and it is with renewed gratitude for ourselves and others that in this hour of peril we turn to the memory of Jenner, whose great discovery, if made available, almost certainly ensures immu- nity from this most dreaded and loathsome of maladies. We may purge our homes ;of pestilential odours, and take every precaution against the intrusion of those likely to bring contagion into our midst, but who can insure us against contact with the infected in ships and omnibuses, or guard us against a brief encounter with them in the streets ? Vaccination in the case of small-pox re- lieves us of half our terrors—for ourselves and those we love. Often we do not seek for the pre- ventative until it is needed as a remedy. I do not wish to alarm my readers, but whilst small-pox literally rages in the Metropolis and some other large to wns besides, it is necessary to rouse people to a sense of preventible danger. Nor does it need that we should be breathing the air of greatly infected districts to contract the malady. A chance visitor, unsuspected, has often been the means of spreading death and disaster in perfectly healthy neighbourhoods. Again, as regards the dreaded outbreak of cholera. It is well to urge on all persons, more especially householders, the great importance of strict sanitary observance. Throw no vegetable refuse into the dust bin, where it soon accumulates, and emits evil smells. All matter of the kind should be put on the fire, and if the stove is closed and the draught plate be drawn the objectionable mass is soon destroyed. In country places, where I find, as a rule, people are more neglectful of sanitary measures than dwellers in towns, trusting. I suppose, that the purity of the air will counterbalance a little disregard of sanitary science, cess- pools and ill-smelling drains, odd corners where miscellaneous refuse is deposited, &c., are objectionable features that one frequently comes across in the country. All such the in- spector of nuisances, in well looked-after districts, would certainly insist on removing. Already the question of means to prevent, and method to cure, cholera are being liberally discussed. Simple rules should, I think, be supplied to people who are not likely to read learned discussions on the subject. I am not sufficiently versed in the matter to prescribe treatment, nor should I be pre- sumptuous enough to do more than suggest that some attention to the matter be given early, so that we may not be found guilty of folly's precaution, "Locking the stable door when the horse is gone." I think the National Health Society, which has done inestimable serv'ce in the cause of health, would confer an additional boon on humanity if, just now, it would undertake to draw up and disseminate a few plain rules for the guidance of those who are completely ignorant of the simplest course to take, either for the pre- vention of the specific maladies referred to or for the alleviation of alarming precursory symptoms when once attacked, no medical assistance being immediately available. That any person would be at all likely to rely on such advice to the exclusion of professional aid I do not for an instant suppose. A wholesome and protective sense of fear naturally points to the best assistance at hand when, as now, dire and fatal epidemics are expected or found in our midst. I have no wish to be likened to that bird of ill omen the raven, so I will change my topic, and must revert again to the subject of thirst. Cold tea, with slices of lemon in it, is an excellent cor- rective, and a glass of milk with soda water makes an agreeable and cooling draught; ice may be added, but, unfortunately, ice is not always pro- curable in the country. I will give a recipe for simple claret cup at the end of this letter which adults will certainly approve. As for children, the poor little mortals frequently suffer all the tor- tures of Tantalus when nurses are thoughtless and the babies themselves cannot make their wants in- telligible. Extreme fretfulness is often occasioned by thirst, and attendants walking with children should carry a bottle of filtered water. Milk soon turns in summer, and in that condition should not be taken by anyone. I have called attention before to a proprietary article most useful for arresting the decomposition of meat, tish, vegetables, milk, butter, kct All such comestibles, if treated as prescribed with the preventative, can be kept sweet almost indefinitely. I am convinced manv housekeepers are unaware of the waste saved and annoyance they might be spared if they would only make a trial of the article referred to. In proportion to the popularity once enjoyed by our animate or inanimate iavourites, so often is the measure of their final neglect or abasement. Except on this principle, I am at a loss to tell why the once favourite game of croquet should be so utterly tabooed, and the skill adjudged worthless that it took years to acquire. People would blush to be caught playing croquet now-a-days, yet no other really good game but has its staunch suppor- ters, nor does any beside seem likely to suffer from future fluctuations of public taste. Imagine golf, billiards, cricket, or any other essentially mascu- line game being capriciously thrown aside, as croquet has been by women, for certainly it was their caprice and love of change that dethroned it; but I am told a reaction is now setting in, and I am glad of it, for there are many elderly and also stout people -who are unequal to tennis whose hands probably have not yet forgotten the cun- ning acquired in the days when croquet was popular. Lately, to be caught playing it was re- garded by the perpetrators as an act of shame little less disgraceful than robbing a neighbour's garden. The bazaar held in the Duke of Wellington's Riding School, so my deputy writes, was not a. success, though its object, which is to provide poor cripples with artificial limbs, was worthy of all success. We are getting tired of the mummery and open frauds practised at fancy fairs, and novelty has ceased to exist. The same old tricks and follies have all been repeated ad nauseam. London is not Arcadia, and pastoral scenes, such as leading a white calf about by a rope, are eminently ridiculous. What could the buyer do with the poor little beast, which I hear was shunned rather than sought, and no wonder. Mrs. Bernard Beere presided over a stall, and was dressed with her usual consummate taste —white lace over cowslip-tinted satin, sleeves much puffed, and a train lined with cinnamon- coloured silk. A very big hat and very long sleeves completed the toilette. Mrs. Beere, my correspondent relates, was hawking about a statuette of Mr. Wilson Barrett as Claudia, tucked under her arm; the actor him- self being very busy in propria, persona. Miss Fortescue, Mr. Toole, and many other theatrical stars and social celebrities were pre- sent but visitors were conspicuous by their absence, as an Irish friend of mine once said. The Indian Princess whose speciality was fortune- telling ,did a good trade, her reputation as a reader of the future being now thoroughly estab- lished. The practices which have brought much discredit on women who preside at bazaars have led to the formation of a society the object of which is to place such outcomes of charitable endeavour on a more respectable footing. A clergyman and his wife are the promoters of the scheme, and the rules laid down for the conduct of such fancv fairs as are to be held under the auspices of the society are simple and sensible. There will be no danger of women, in their enthu- siasm, forgetting the respect they owe to themselves. By doing so they have given occasion for a freedom of address that, under the present system of things, has become almost scandalous. The Reform Society decides that all goods shall be marked at a reasonable pricya pjaia figures. I < Extortion will be impossible, for the sales will be conducted as in the bt)st shops. No pressure is brought to bear, and no one forced to buy useless things. Articles not presently disposed of will not be reduced in value, but returned to the senders, or otherwise forwarded to some approved mart for disposal. CLARET Cup.-This refreshing beverage is quickly and easily made as follows:—One bottle of sound claret, one glass of sherry, one bottle of soda-water, peel a lemon very thin, sweeten with powdered sugar to taste, add a few slices of cucumber, or put a bunch of young nettles in for ten minutes; a lump of ice would improve. CIDER Cup.-An agreeable drink in hot weather is concocted thus:—One quart of cider, one bottle of soda-water, one glass of brandy, one of sherry, the juice of half a lemon, the peel of a quarter of a lemon, sugar to taste, a grate of nutmeg, and a few young nettles submerged for five or six minutes; bottled or draught cider may be used. Refrigerators are far less common in this coun- try than they are in America, and it is a pity we should not be better supplied with such useful agents. In India, when no such apparatus is available, the following plan has proved an excel- lent substitute for the refrigerator proper:—Encase the bottles containing the fluid to be cooled with flannel or calico covers, made to fit-old cotton stockings will answer best-tie carefully round the necks severally, immerse in a bucket of water for a few minutes, then set the bottles in saucers con- taining a little water in each place in a quick current of air, carefully re-wetting two or three times. I read that French doctors, who are likely to go through a heavy cholera campaign, warn persons against taking iced drinks-an injudicious act, by- the-way, at all times. Adelaide Neilson, the actress, though previously in perfect health, died, after a few horus' excessive agony, from taking a glass of iced milk. History supplies corresponding examples, and domestic annals furnish many of us with warnings which we are prone to forget, or inclined to disregard. I read that it is safer to take drinks that are iced uniformly rather than cooled by a lump of ice in the glass-a plan that renders the temperature of the draught unequal. Ice creams are to be taken with caution, and should always be accompanied by solid food, in the shape of a sponge cake or some such eatable.
A WORD FOR THE RESTITUTION…
A WORD FOR THE RESTITUTION OF I HUMAN TAILS. [BY AN INSANE CONTRIBUTOR.] Stay!" cries the cautious and impatient reader, the term restitution' implies prior existence, and human tails, don't you know, are only existent in the minds and imaginations of the raving and irreverent votaries of the Monboddo, Blumenbach, and Darwinian Schools." Go slow, gentle reader, go slow; have patience awhile, and it will be shown, with some degree of possibility, that man, the lord of creation, had a tail, which time and the caprice of fashion have mercilessly docked," and, finally, completely effaced. Let the sceptic and wary searcher after truth look back and survey the whole of the animal kingdom, aerial, aquatic, and terrestrial, and he must fain allow that nature has an unmistakable penchant for tails, and has been profuse in the matter of their distribution to the denizens of air, earth, and sea. Every animal, almost without ex- ception, from the tiny mouse to the mighty pachyderm, of which the famous Jumbo is a magnificent type, has a tail; small and stumpy, sometimes, it is true, as though nature had hesi- tated as to its utility or ornament; neveitbeless, it is a tail, and all the king's horses, and all the king's men, can't make it anything but a tail. Is it probable, therefore, that nature, who has been so liberal to other creatures in the matter of caudal appendages, should have sent man, the capital of her works, into the world so essentially defective ? Apart from this, the history of ages contain indisputable allusions to the human tail as being a real and tangible fact. Is it not traditionary among the Japanese that the Genius Lien-tien-chi, who seems to answer to the European Prometheus, gave his man a larger tail than any other creature; but, on his complaining that he had not the wings of the eagle and the trunk of the elephant, the estimable Lien-tien-chi, in great anger, took away his tail, and gave it to the monkey, who, before, was but scantily provided ? Further, it is re- corded that the great Emperor Xo-ho-chang-fu, cousin to the moon-ye sceptic lunatics mark that!-in a battle with the Tartars, was seized with a sudden panic, and, flying through a wood, his tail was so entangled in the brakes that he was obliged to leave it behind him, a prey for the birds of the air or the beasts of the forest. His courtiers, therefore-for courtiers were sycophants in all ages-immediately and most obligingly "docked" themselves to lessen their .nonarch's disgrace, from which time tails among the Japanese went clean out of fashion. There is, too, the well-known Rabbinical fable that man was at first made with a tail, but was afterwards deprived of it, and woman formed out of it. From sheer deference, however, to the gentler sex let this disrespectful theory be rejected with scorn, for to deprive amiable woman of her dignified origin from the Adamic rib would be the most inhibited sin in the canon." Without, however, examining the records of re- mote antiquity, there are many terms, phrases, and usages, current in modern times, which plainly refer to the reality of a human tail. For instance, I can make neither head or tail of it" is an ex- pression evidently founded in the conviction that both ends of us were, at one time, of equal dignity and importance. Again, The whole army turned tail and fled is a mode of speaking common alike to all historians, and which had never wriggled into the politest compositions if this elegant part of animated life had not formerly belonged to man. Yet once more let the profoundest of our legal celebrities venture to offer an opinion on the origin of the strange and un- meaning term, "cutting off of entails," other than that it took its rise from the manner of disinheriting among the ancients. In the emblematical period of by-gone ages, we must presume that when a son, or next-of-kin, proved undutiful, he was disinherited by a literal cutting off of his tail, which, at all events, was a more pro- nounced and ostentatious mode than the modern cutting off with a shilling." The chief objec- tion to this theory is that it is hard to see why a recalcitrant heir should be deprived, not only of his patrimony, but also of his own real and per- sonal property, to wit, his tail. Even this, however, is in keeping with Scriptural precept, for is it not written that from him who bath not shall be taken away even that which be hath" ? Philosophers, like doctors, will, of course, differ, and Man has, from time to time, been turned topsy-turvey, and inside out, with as little ceremony as a Billingsgate hawker guts a fish. Thus, Hume allows him nothing but brains; Beattie ;nd his school nothing but feelings Kaims, with infinite posing and plodding, reduces him to a perfect hobby-horse; while Blumenbach was so complimentary as to assert that the immediate descendants of Adam possessed most of the attributes of swine. But, whatever other phi- losophers have taken away from him, Monboddo has most philanthropically and generously conceded to him undisputed rights to his ancestral inheri- tance in the matter of a tail. Nonsense cries the sceptic again, this is all a myth, wild conjecture, and an old woman's tale —save the mark! Well, it is as much a misfortune to believe nothing as to believe everything and to those of our angular, square, dogmatical, per- sistent, pertinacious, pugnacious, blushless, and bumptious readers who are bent upon cultivating the barren graces of the nil admirari school, we say Come with us awhile into the domains of inviolable history." Let the jaundiced sceptic put on his spectacles and look at the engraving at the end of chap. xv. of Dr. Schmitz's Abridged History of Greece, founded on Thirlwall," and then tell us what he thinks of it. That engraving, gentle reader, has cost the writer more profound thought than would have sufficed to produce a lifting machine capable of dislodging the Alpine ranges. It is well-known that the average Londoner veritably believes that a Welshman has a tail even unto this day; but here we have a batch of highly- refined Grecians at work at a wine-press, each with a tail of a most pronounced type. The en- graving, it will be seen, is not meant as a carica- ture, but is the true and common-place represen- tation of men as they appeared in every-day life. It is folly to suppose that ancient engravers would have stuck on a tail for fun if no tail existed; and here we have them delineated as natural appen- dages, and by no means as monstrosities, In short, none but the worn-out cynic can, in the face of existing evidences, deny that the tail was at one time natural to man; and since its disappearance there has always been the strongest propensity in us to supply this fundamental defect in our make by some arti- ficial expedient. The sweeping trains of the ladies, the bushy fleece of the judges, the long, straight, taper pig-rail of the bucks" of half-a-century ago, and the prevailing unctuous queue of the heathen Chinee, seem all imitations of a tail which has, by time and fashion, been mercilessly pruned and docked," and, finally, altogether wiped out." If, however, custom and time can obliterate a tail. it appears, on the face of it, that it can be restored to man by the same process; and why should not so honourable an appendage be again restored ? But who said that a tail had any honour at all about it? Well. a tail in Turkey is the highest badge of nobility and distinction, and a bashaw of three tails used to be, and may be still, the highest honour which the Sultan could confer on a subject. The Turks, too, hung out a tail as their ensign of war, and when the black horse's tail was on their standard their enemies trembled no less than if some comet hung over their heads with omens of ruin and devastation. There are, however, objections to the renewal of the human tail, but they are too frivolous to merit a serious refutation. One instance will serve to illustrate the general tenour of sach objections, therefore, ab uno disce omnes. There has been found a sapient writer who urged that a tail would greatly diminish our military genius, as in a re- treat it might afford a handle to the enemv by which to lay hold of our soldiers. Be this as it may, tail or no tail, our soldiers have, even in modem times, shown considerable dexterity in getting away from the enemy, so that this objec- tion does not entirely bold good. The various absurdities of our modern substi- tutes for the tail it may sometime or other be the duty of the Legislature to rectify, and when Mr. Dillwyn has succeeded in Disestablishing the Welsh Church it may, perhaps, be expedient to petition one of the other honourable members of the Principality to introduce to the notice of the House a Bill for the restitution of tails." Mean- while, if, as the average Cockney veritably believes, thou hast, dear Taffy, in the unfathomable secrecy of thy great inscrutables" a budding tail, keep it dark, keep it dark, till the time comes when it will be once more a welcome ornament of hyper- civilised man.
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