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@ (.A..LL BIGHTS JJ.BBEllVED.) Toe Forerunner] I p——^ TBat ] ■ I Rev. H- KLWTN THOMAS. 1 (Awarded Pirst Prise at Ifa4>io*M Eisteddfod.) (jP Iwwwwwwwwwd CHAPTER XXI. Owrt Bryn y Beirdd at the time it was visited by our hero wiis an ordinary Welsh farmhouse of the better clasps. Formerly it had been known far and wide as the resi- dence of a Welsh poet, and scholar of renown, who had been in the habit of inviting the bards of the district to meet under his roof once or twice a year to discuss literary and poetical matters. At that time it was regarded as a. kind of appendant lodge to Carreg-Cenen Oastle. This castle—one of the finest of its kind in Wales—was built on a neighbouring limestone rock, and was oele- bra,ted for the sheer precipice which descended from it to the River Cenen, and the cave which pierced the crag below and connected it with Cilrychen. Derwydd, fwd Cwrt Bryn y Beirdd. Before and during Glyn- dwr's wars these long and absolutely secret underground passages had enabled the Welsh chieftains to baine and elude many a strong force of the enemy in a manner that com- pletely demoralised whole troops of them. But either because those who used them wished to cover their retreat, or because those -who tried to pursue their foes resolved to destroy them as refuges of war, the main arteries had been blocked long before Ehysyn's parents had come to live at the 40wrt, though it was still rumoured that the places were connected by some of the smaller and more intricate passages. Rhysyn's father, dn accordance with a custom of the times and of his class, used to invite his friends and neighbours to enjoy and take part in the periodical evesongs held in the spacious kitchen of his roomy house, through which practice he had become known as a genial patron of music and poetry. It was by coming in contact with so many of these free and easy children of the Muses that, Rhysyn had grown up to be the free- mannered individual we have tried to describe on these pages. On this particular day, though he felt him- eelf too indisposed to attend St. Dy fan's birthday celebration, he had been able to put in a brief appearance at his now well- pa,tronised oollege and stayed long enough to place his assistant in command, explain- ing that he must needs hasten home in order to have a private talk with Master Hywel Roberts, who had promised to sleep the night under his father's roof. He was, therefore, both astonished and dis- appointed when he saw him accompanied. But Rhysyn was not a person to remain long in one mood, especially if it happened to be a. dejected mood. When he had heard enough of. the story that acoounted for the presence of Samuel Pritchard at the Cwrt to make sure that Francis Lloyd's plans of revenge had been entirely thwarted, his spirits rose to an un- usual height, and, after previously securing the consent of the two visitors, he induced ibis father to arrange an "evesong" in their honour. Under ordinary oircum-stances it would have taken some days to orga-nise such a gathering successfully. But it so happened that Gutyn Prys, the harpist, and Dio Dywyll. the celebrated "penillion singer," were staying for the week-end, as was often their custom, at the Cwrt. Half-a-dozen neighbouring farmers, together with their families and servants, were hastily brought together, so that, when supper-time was over, there was a goodly number present to take part in the most popular of the national cus- toms. Neither Roberts nor Pritchard cared very much for this way of being lionised, bat as patrioti-c Welshmen they regarded an eveeong with the harp as the next best thing to a religions service. And, though some of these gatherings had brought upon themselves a bad name when they were prolonged to late tours and because of the large quantities of xnctbeglin and sack which were drunk at some of them, the larger number were such that even "The Old Yicar" thoroughly approved of, and as a frequenter of which he, doubtlessly, began to express his thoughts in poetic form. As the most distinguished stranger of the company, Samuel Pritch-ard was chosen to be the master of the ceremonies, and he lost no time in forming the company into a circle, with the harpist and Dio in the centre. Exercising his privilege as the conductor, be called upon Hywel to decide the charac-ter of the story they were to weave, and the hero or heroine around whose life it was to be woven. Hywel named Rhysyn as the hero, and decided that the story woven around his life should be a love story, promising, accord- ing to custom, to furnish the key to it in the first penill. Each member in the circle was expected in his turn to contribute a stanza composed at the timlb in which it was his duty to carry on the thread of the story a point or two further than where the last ginger had brought it, until by the time the last member in the circle had composed his penill something like a. complete romance in verse had been woven around the hero. When the preliminary arrangements were complete, Gutyn swept his fingers over the strings of his beloved instrument, and Dio opened the proceedings with the well-known penill: — Sweet the harp is in the home Where merry kinsfolk gather, Each with his perrill in his turn Ignoring quite the miser." And Hywel followed with the startling key- penill: — "She lives below the mountain's foot. The daughter of the Chieftain, The loveliest maid of all her race, But where's her heart's not certain." Almost every member of the circle declared bis inability to compose a penill that would M that strange, mysterious key. They looked at Rhysyn, at the ceilings, on the floor, they called for a cup of sa-ok, implored Gutyn to give them a lead by playing the tune, but. somehow, it seemed as if no one J oould find the story hidden in the heart of I that penill until, to the delight of all present, Bhysyn himself led with the illumining penill: — Her heart's her own, though once she deemed It trampled on and wounded. And he who wins that strong heart's love May count himself thrice blessed." After Rhysyn had sung his penill 'the others ) round it more or less easy to follow with their own. until each of the thirty-four per- sons who composed the circle had oontri- "bnted his portion of a story, which deepened in interest as each penill was added, until at last the closing chapter was contributed V the man at the other end, in which the lero— Had proved himself both brave and bold, Whom young and old admired, And won the Chieftain's daughter's heart, Which soores of ewains desired." When Rhysyn made the speebh which was always demanded from the hero of such a. romance, he spoke with an emotion and a sincerity which impressed all present with the fact that he regarded the tale woven around him as real and prophetic. When the company had dispersed and all Sbe inmates of the Owrt, including Samuel Pritchard, were asleep, Hywel and Rhysyn ■were having their private talk" over the < ashes of the kitchen fire. As the avangelist bad surmised, the ex-wrestler wanted to oonfer" with him concerning the progress of his lovefor the "Princess." After deeorib- ling. with infinite detail, three special visits of his to Cilrychen Cave, the reception given bim on each occasion, the extremeJy ] torioal manner in which he was received by hU the gipsy clan, the studious manner in wfcicfc the "Princess" avoided being alone Wiith him. and the characteristic, but to him most disconcerting, manner in which she JeoriKxl to weigh his words and scrutinise his .-bole attitude, he proceeded to narra-te how j lID one occasion he found himself wandering aimlessly aJong the nver bank near the col- ksge, thinking of his unrequited love in a 1 melancholy mood, when he suddenly came i ftfcce to faoe with the Princess, who was also j wandering aimlessly and seemed absorbed in ( tboogitt, winch, to say the least, did not I ■Kktao her look happy. In his impulsive way j Se told her be was afrafd she hated him ■.because be Jiad been one of the instruments in securing the imprieorwnenrt of Sfoon Jones, 1 8Dd he WTTS going to add apologetically that froth be and those who acted with him had •■en unwitting instrtHnesobs, ■wheal she indig- nantly asked: What, honestly, mean you. Master Owen?" tar eyes flashing! Quire yon here to make to me time after time, declaring I am foinr Pattern of aJlibafctsbrasue and maidenly 0ad in woman, though bttt a gipsy maid, pfld yet. ynya credit me with regretting the lDoaroe**tihon of that combination of vagar IrtinJ blackguard to Northampton Gaol fur what be donhiy deserves? An you deem .e tJMA ktori of maid, go and ma,ke me to ppgneone who hath never beeti «o unfortunate ] as to have been once deceived by a. scatter- ling knave?" Rhysyn described how this unexpected out- burst made him absolutely dumb. Every word was music to his ears. If he could have possibly managed it, he would have made her repeat the whole delightful utterance again and again, but while he was cogitating in his mind as to what to say and how to say it he saw one of her brothers galloping towards them at full speed. The young gipsy, who was clad in a red shirt, leathern trousers, and wide-brimmed yellow bat, scarcely looked at Rhysyn. He descended from the saddle, which was a woman's, with the per- fect ease of a born equestrian, and helped his sister to mount, which sihe was able to do by just putting her hand on his shoulder and taking her seat. The next moment she gal- loped away, and her brother walked back along the river bank without deigning a word of explanation or even looking back to see if such a thing was expected. Rhysyn had found out some time before that the Princess was teaching the children of three or four of the neighbouring squires to play the flute and violin. Hoping vaguely he might again have the luck to meet her, he walked quietly in the direction the horse had gone, until, after a long and weary trudge, he came to the lane leading to Myddynfych Hall, where he guessed his lady-love had ridden to give her lessons. Now, it happened that Masters Harry Vaughan and Mervin Richards, who had before this time got an inkling of the manner in which this gipsy maid had recently been making fools of them and their associates to the amuse metirt, as well as to the advantage, of those whom they hated, had resolved to revenge them- selves upon her. Having learnt that she rode to Myddynfych every Wednesday afternoon and returned after dark, they fixed upon this very day on which Rhysyn wandered after her as the day to execute their plans. As soon as night fell they tied a etout, strong rope across the road about two feet above the ground, with the intention of throwing both horse and rider. To make certain of carrying out their purpose, each had ascended a tree on opposite sides of the road, taking a tin vessel containing two or three stones in his hand, their intention being to rattle the stones with all their might when the horse approached, so that the animal in his fright at the overhead rattle would start a furious gallop and stumble over the tight rope. They hoped through this device to get possession of the maid's person and inflict upon her some of the indignities that gallants of their kidney inflicted on the innocent and defence- less wenches which came into their power. Rhysyn came up the lane joist as each con- spirator had climbed; his tree, and, as he was walking rather slowly, he thrust his shin against the rope without either injuring him- self or falling over. Laying hold of the object which impeded his progress, he soon made out, though it was intensely dark, that the presence of the rope meant mischief. Before he had time to speculate as to who were the authors or what was the object in view, he heard a horse galloping towards him. He was going to raise a warning voice, when the most infernal din he had ever listened to began above his head. Thoroughly bewildered, yet determined to stop that animal ere it rushed against that rope and stumbled, he never uttered a ory, but ran with all the speed he could comma.nd to meet the now fast-approaching horse. It was so dark in the narrow lane that the Princess— for it was she-oould not possibly recognise him, and with the noise made by the mis- creant s above she would never understand anything he might shout. His only chance of saving her from a dangerous fall, and, perhaps, from death, was to rush at the horse's head, get hold of the reins, and stop him by sheer strength. This he attempted, but the Prinoess, taking for granted that a man rushing at her in such fashion in a dark and lonely lane meant no good, spurred on the horse with all her might and rained a perfect shower of outs on the hands and face of the supposed foot-pad, until at last he managed to shout some words that made her stay her hand and listen. The horse by this time, held by a force it recognised as one it had to obey, stood stock still, rinding that someone was interfering with their sport, either to aid or to frustrate it, the tree- climbers dropped their musical instruments and hastened to descend. By the time they touched the ground the Princess, whose wits worked with lightning rapidity in times of danger, had something like a clear perception of the situation. She had just caught the words strong rope tied across to make your horse stumble," and saw that the per- son who held her horse was a friend, that the others now approaching were enemies, that she was in danger, that she must ally herself with her deliverer, whoever he was, to defeat some devilish plot to injure her. There was only just enough time to ask a. few pointed questions before they would be rushed upon: "Be you my friend?" "To death." Your name?" Rhys Owen!" Heaven forfend! Who be these who ane approaching us?" I know not." How many be they?" c< N'ay, I know nothing of them—I—" "Have you a pistol?" Yes, loaded." "Fire at once in the air! Now, while they stand there too frightened to advance, take this knife from my saddle, cut the rope, then, when I gallop past you, jump up behind me. I will fire my own pistol at anyone who will dare approach you." He obeyed her with the same cool precision as that with which she commanded him, and all went well until he came to jump. He had taken hold of her hand with the readiness and agility which became a champion wrestler and was in the Jtot of springing when a murderous blow from one of the assailants sent him staggering beneath the horse's feet. The next moment a pistol bullet laid the assailant on his back, and before his ally could come to his assistance the mar- vellous maid had descended, lifted the limp form of her deliverer from the ground,^placed him face downwards across the back of her well-disciplined horse, and galloped aaway in the darkness. As she rode over the river bridge on the main road, she espied two saddled horses tied to a. tree, one of which she recognised as young Master Harry Vaughan's favourite racer. When Rhysyn came to the part of the story which described his coming to himself in the Rlas kitchen, where she had taken him, and of Hywel's mother bending over him on one side and the Princess on the other, be could not control his feelings as he told his friend of the great wave of emotional joy which spread over the latter's face as she watched him coming hack to conscious nee a. Neither of the women would allow him to speak that night. They told him that they had dressed the wound in his head, given him something to drink, laid him on a couch in an adjoining room, a-nd ordered him to rest and sleep until they would wake mm in the morning. The following day was far ad-waooed when he awoke after the powerful sleeping draught they had given him. Bot he had no sooner felt wide awake than he qjealised that the pa-inful stupor of the previous night was all gone, and he felt quite nfcnseif agam. The Princess was there with Mrs. Roberts, who had a basinful of bread and milk ready for him. When be finia-d his meal be found himself atone with the Prinoeas, who looked cold a»nd distant, and annous and full of some sweet, undeflnable solvcrt«de. She* asked him after a while to tell her tjie stoTy of his presence in the Myddynfych lane and how he came to do what he did. Hib told her the wbde8tory, from the time she galloped away from him on the river ban* until he was knocked down under her horse s feet. He said nought of the Providence which he now thought led him there or of. the love which flamed in his heart and gavlllbim no rest but in following and being DEnr to her. He simply narrated the facto of the incident se-ria,tim as be remembered them. When he finished he saw her round bosom heave, a mist came over her eyes, then big tears welled up in each of them and rolled down her burning cheeks- Every fibro in her Hthe body seemed to be moviag. With her eyes looking away from his f^oe, she placed her right band on his ghouMer, and asked him in a. voice that set his wnote being aglow: Can you ever forgrve me. Master Owenr Forgive yon! For wb-.P "For inflicting orael blows on the hands and face and arms of—of a brave and unsel- fish man." Ney, nay! Yon thonsht me a foot-ped." 'cTt is for that thought I want your for- gawnessf* "listen, Princess! I would "Hark, Master Owen! You nmst not make love to me!" She said this in snch a commanding way that he felt he dared not utter a word of what she most hove seen was framing in hie heart, flatshing in his eyes, and burning on his lips. But though he felt the time to declare his whole heart might be inopportune, he some- how felt be must extract some p-romise from her with which to feed hie hope or life would now be too sad to live. So be stood up in front of her and said: I know %is a. grae* thing I ask of yon. I know also fbnA T arm airworthy of even th-s raopo tDcqttaintsmoe orf euuh ck gowd and boaniti- fal wench. Bnt how can I help m-yscif" I low you with all my sonl, and I cannot—I don't want to—live without some hope of win- ning your love in ruturm! Is there no hope for me, Princess?" "I' faith, Master (>wem, I know not what answer to give you. You. are a man of such parts, so learned in Jpencraft and bookoraft. thait for your own txiboof you are doing an unwise thing in seeking to be mated to a gipsy maid. But therei is another reason why I cannot,anewer you which I cannot explain." Ha»th it a-ught to do with me?" Nay, 'tis a m.atte.t. you cannot under- stajnd." Odds—my—life, Priiuoess, you pain and puzzle me. Be you afflighted that because I have been a sort of g nd-about wrestler that I am fond of riot or waissail and cannot make a. deoent home ?" Cease that foolish tatfk, Master Owen! As a man, I look up to yoov and respect you, and -yes, I believe—but, nos. L musn't say it. Pity me, my dear friend arid deliverer, and do not press me further on this point to-day." Alas I I also need pity. Bnt, no, I'll have no one's pity. I must hswe your love or be of all men most misery bie. If I may not press the point to-day, wben may I press it?" "Need you-must you—ipness it at all?" I must—or "Then give me another three months to think over it—and find ouit "Three months! Wont. three days be enough?" No, Master Owen, nor tlrree weeks." But you will let.me see jvju and talk with you?" Nay. nay, that would not help me to- find out what I want at all. Ask me no more questions to-day, my friend. But an you pro- mise not to seek me or lose confidence in me for the time I ha.ve mentioned, you may, an you still wish to, put me that question again." So ended Rhysym's story, to which Hywel had listened in the most interested and sym- pathetic manner throughout, notwithstand- ing his great. weariness and need of sleep. As they parted for the night he asked how much of the allot-ed time had already passed, and Rhysyn told him, with a ruveful counte- nance: Hardly any. This happened only a month ago!" CHAPTER XXIL Hywel and Samuel Pritohard were early astir the next morning. The first, part of their ride from Cwrt Bryn y Beirdd to Llan- ddyfri, though they had good horses .Mid were both excellent riders, tired them to such an extent that they welcomed the sigh t of the vicarage aimo; as eagerly as travellers in an Eastern desert welcome that of an oasis, the shorter road over which they travelled being at that time very uneven and un- finished. Vicar Pritchard, when he ca,me to the door to welcome them, looked happier a.nd less care-worn than Hywel had ever seen him. The change in his son's life' had wrought an equally marvellous cha.n ?e of another* kind in the father. And the old beneficent, almost angelic, look which Hywel and others had seen in his eyes when he used. to preach to great crowds of his fellow- countrymen on his way between L,landdiv"fri, Llanedi, and St. David's during former ytsws had returned to them. Though Hywel by this time had made uanto himself a name throughout the Southern c'is- tricts of Wales as "a dangerous Inoonfpr- mist, who worked for the downfall of too National Church," the Old Vicar gave him a warm welcome to his home, addressed hiin A murderous blow sent him staggering be neath the horse's feet. as My son," and spoke of his efforts to spread the true light" with unreserved commendation. But though every member of the family pressed on him to Test the night at the Vicarage and continue the journey to Cefn Brith in the morning, he left after a short rest, promising to stay a day or two under his reverend patron's roof on his return. His welcome at Oefn Brith, though quiet and subdued on aooount of the death of the much-beloved Granacle," was all Hywel oould wish. Mistress Helen Owen, though still dignified and self-possessed in all she did, had somehow divested herself of the aloofness which made Hywel feel on former occasions that be could not get as near to her as he wished. And the motherly interest she mani- fested in him so completely won his trust that he could open his heart to her on every subject that concerned him supremely with- out the lea-st reserve. Mistress Nell, while still extremely shy and timid, not to say apprehensive, when the sub- ject of marriage was discussed, was at all other times the frank, simple-minded, open- hearted girl whose perfect naturalness had won the evangelist's heart during his first visit to the farm. He sometimes caught her looking steadily and thoughtfully at him for several minutes without removing her gaze while he would be pursuing his studies or writing copies of Scripture. Occasionally she would rush in from some outside occupation, give him an impulsive hug and kiss, and would be outside the door again before he could hardly turn round. At eventide she would sit on a low rush-stool between him and her mother, and, as he discussed his past efforts and future plans with her mother, she would lean her cheek, now against his knee, anon against her mother's, questioning him eagerly in regard to what she did not understand, and expressing her approval of what he did. But in living over again thOSllt golden days later on, it was the walks they took together in the valleys at the base of Epynt Hills he liked best to re-oall. Her love of and fami- liarity with nature gave him unbounded delight. Her quaint and original comments on birds and flowers, herbs and trees, clouds and streams, were so delightful that he some- times walked at her side, her hand in his, for a mile, making no response exoept with his eyes and smiles. They were accompanied on two of these occasions by Mistress Owen herself, and the way she corrected or supple- ment,ed. some of her daughter's utterances made it olear to Hywel who had been her teacher in these delightful stttdios. It was Hywel's intemtion before leaving Oefn Brith this time to ma-k-e Snal arrange- ments for the day, place, and manner of his marriage, but whenever he spoke of return- ing to his work Nell looked so pathetically sad at the thought of parting that he was on the point of imploring her and her mother to have the oeremony performed at once, so that he might take her with him as com- panion and fellow-worker wherever he went. While be was debating in his mind whether Mistress Owen might charge him wit.h lack of consideration for her loneliness in response to such an appeal, Rhysyn Owen galloped into the yard on a foaming horse with the news that his mother had been taken sud- denly and seriously ill, and begged to see his face before she died. Thus ended a short period in Hywel's life which he aJways afterwards rerer,red to as the Golden Period." Hitherto his life, since he bad left Pi-ode School, had been a series of strenuous efforts, many of them directed against strong and opposing elements, and, though by nature a man of genial and sunny temperament, the continuous struggles in which he had been engaged had imparted some of their own stern seriousness into his mature, until his countenance at the time he began his evangelistic work gave those who were not familiar with him the impres- sion that he was cold and taciturn. Miafcress Nell's contagious buoyancy of spirits when she had him thus completely under her spell soon chased the last vestige of gloom And the last stern look from his face. The news that his mother was in a dying condition seemed to bring back the habitu- ally sad look of former days with a single stroke. He lost no time in getting ready for his departure, though he turned back three Ames, after bidding Nell farewell, to give hter and her mother some additional warning against any possible attempt on the part <tTf Master Francis Lloyd or his asaxBafces tio imitate Shon Jones's kidnapping methods. Even when he had finally mounted his horse, he told the reeve of his fears, and begged of him to be constantly on the alert until he wooM return, as he hoped, and relieve^him, of Ms preoioos oharge. After Rftiysyn OwenV had delivered a similar charge to Boris, they galloped away, leaving at l*e»a^t one sorrowful to.n<ity he<M-t behind them. Hywel's moSiier was not a strong character in ftay eenae eeisspt as « TMasewfe. Meet of bor wJU. Um» -ana her late hnshsmd thought bad naar—wore She was not a •vwnrMly woman. No one could oay she was selfish, c- proud, or irritable, or in any way a trying woman to live with. But there had' been times when both Hywel and his farther bad wished to find her more pronounced in her opinions and far more positive in her likes and dislikes. In matters moral and religious she was a kind of ohameleon, taking her views enticely from those of her husband and son. Hywol was not like her in anything except in the sweet-ness of his disposition. Yet he loved her intensely, and he felt, if he was going to lose her, the world would never be the same to him again. He was exceedingly gratified to find on his arrival that she was still in possession of all her faculties and able to welcome him home as of old. But though she was calm and serene in mind, he knew the very minute he saw her that her hours were numbered. After a few mutual expressions of affection had been exchanged between them, she told him that the PI as, in which her people had been living for many generations, would now be his. His father's property also, consisting of a small estate between Abergwili and Car- marthen, would come to him, together with a sum of money whioh she had saved from the working expenses of both places. After giving him the details and showing him a copy of his father's will, she paused a moment with exhaustion, a.nd then asked: I Be it thy determination, my son, to give thy whole life to the work thou* hast been doing lately?" Ay, verily, my whole life and all my powers." And this comely maid of Cefn Brith, to whom thou art espoused, loveth she this work?" She loveth me, mother, with all her heart and soul, and my work, whatever it be. will be her work." But, apart from it being thy chcsen work, hath the any personal predilection for it?" "An even stronger predilection than I have myself! Seeing she be a true and worthy grand-daughter of John Penri, the Martyr, how can she be otherwise?" And will she follow thee, my son, in thy peregrinations? Wilt thou suffer her to risk the dangers thou art so often facing thyself?" Nay, mother, how she will help me in my work hath not yet been settled. It will be a matter for the maid herself to decide when the time comes. But be assured I will never allow her to expose herself to any unneces- sary risk." ''I have plied thee with these questions in my last hour of life because I have had strange dreams the last two nights concern- ing the maid, and I saw her in^trange places and among cruel folk. She was crying out for thee, and thou wert not there to answer. Once methought I saw her weary and worn out after a long period of suffering and separation from thee, and, though thoso around her offered her ciany things calcu- lated to bring joy and satisfaction toa maid's life, she refused to be comforted, because they would not let her go to thee. I woke up at last, feeling much concerned about her, and wondering what- these dreams portended." It. is very likely you went to sleep think- ing of some of the things I have been telling you, of the way she hath been persecuted recently, and your thoughts, being troubled, took troublous shapes in your dreams." "I fain would think so. But I 'have some- thing like what thy dear father sometime? called 'preaenft-ment.' or what -Malen calls second sight,' which tells me that what I saw was something more than a dream. I cannot explain it, I can only feel strongly tha.t it is so, and, having such a strong feel- I ing, stamiing, as I am, on the borders of another world, I fee-I I cannot die happy unless tlM>u promisest me two things." "And what be they, mother?" I wantJ thee to promise me that thou .wilt ever keep (the Plas for thy permanent home. That thou wilt have my sister Joan to act as thy housekeeper and Tubal, her husband, to act as thy reeve. I ask thee to prorrnse this ao that thou wilt always feel, wherever thou and thy wile may wander in connection wrth your work, jt-hou canst always bring her back j to the old home to rest and to lay in new strength." I find nt vt the least difficulty in making that promise, for I love the Plas, and would jfeel quite a homeless wand-erer if I con Win't i always and everywhere think of it as my place of rest 'and refuge. What is the other ''The other hath to do with my dream. I promise?" Thore wa.s something in the spirit of that dream, or, maybe, it was a vision, wfiich made me conscious all the time the young maid, during the whole painful period of her separat ton from thee, was constantly anigh thee. And I wanted to tell thee so all the time, but vras held back by some unstAi power. What I' want the? to premise me is I; that should any pa-rt of that dream, or, maybe, vision, come true, thou wilt remem- ber that one thing, and 6earch for her eve-y- whero thou can.;t think of in the immediate neighbourhood——. Oh, my son, my son—the up asm—. God blees thee—thy work, and thy •" 8o died Mi«tr«?s;i Roberts, a fine type of the true mother—her last thoughts of her off- spring. • • • (To 1^9 continued.) -L-