The Cardiff Times

AN ABSCONDING SOLICITOR. A communication has been received from the Charity Commissioners in London, intimating their iutention of sending a commission down to Boston to inquire into the matter of the money invested by a lawyer of that town, who has failed for a heavy amount and absconded.

Sir Arthur Sullivan has now almost recovered from his recent illness. Ha will shortly visit j Baron Rothschild at Aylesbury.

lCOPYRIGHT RESERVED. J OUT OF EDEN. A NOVEL, BY DORA RUSSELL. Author of" BENEATH Tifc Wave," "Footprints IN TU8 Snow," Ckcestjs' Widow," &0. CHAPTER XXV.— Lakkins. Dr. Arthur wss as good as his word, and the next morning asked to see Harry Blunt after he had paid his medical visit to Florence. Harry looked shaken and desponding. He had been drinking heavily the night before, and he had been re-reading Mr "Howard's letter, and the direct evidence' it contained, and everything seemed very dark to him. He looked up and nodded as Dr. Arthur entered the room where he was, but that was all; he was in one of those moods when ordinary cvility was scarcely attended to. "Good morning," said Dr. Arthur, your wife is better this morning?" "Don't believe there was ever much the matter with her," said Harry; she's upset, and no wonder, with this confounded affair." Why don't you go to Larkins, at Oniston he's a sharp fellow; and consult him about the case?" said Dr. Arthur. "If I were you, I would do this, and take take Larkins up to Lon- don with you, and see some of the big men there, and get your mind at rest one way or the other." Humph growled Harry. It's miserable work this, you know miserable for yourself, and miserable for your wife," con- tinued Dr. Arthur. It can't be to her what it is to mo at any rate," said Harry Blunt, sullenly. No, but she feels it very much for your sake. In fact I advise you to seo Larkins to-day." "Something must be done, anyhow," said Harry. Of all the confounded unjust actions I ever knew, if there's any truth in the story of my father's first marriage, it beats them How a fellow could behave in such a brutal fashion I can't think. Poor mother hadn't an idea of such a tiling, I suppose?" "Not until two days before her sudden death. She came then on some of the first Lady Blunt s letters- I mean Robert Fletcher s mnth,or-and these letters were all addressed to your father, signed his affectionate wife. She took them up to Mr Howard, and he told her the truth, and the shock killed her." TT j And you really think-—said Harry, and he turned very pale. I really think your father married Miss Fletcher, and that you have an elder brother but if I were you I would not sit down and cry about it. Robert will be generous about money you are his heir, remember, at any rate, for he may never marry, and I know, from what he said, you will have a handsome income." I ought, after all the money my mother had, said Harry." Yes, of course, he'll consider that; but I would consult Larkins, and take him up to town with you." Harry took this advice. Larkins was a country attorney, of considerable practice, residing at Oniston, and after Dc Arthur left the Hall, Harry rode to Onston, and saw Mr Larkins. Larkins received him with effusion. Larkins had beard rumours of a disputed succession to the great estates belonging to the late Lady Blunt, and he rubbed his hands with satisfaction when Sir Harry" as he was commonly called, rode up to his door. Ho rubbed his hands again when Sir Harry entered tha office, and he smiled and rose, beaming, from his desk. He was a little man, with dusky brown hair, and a dusty brown withered skin. He had one bright roguish brown eye, surrounded by wrinkles, and the other eye had a glassy wickedness of its own, truly in- describable. It was of glasw, and had a fixed stare which never left your face when it was in; but this was not always, as it was an uncomfort- able eye, and its owner was easier when it was out. But on important occasions the glass eye of Larkins was always present. It happened on the morning when Harry Blunt rode to his door to be a magistrates' meeting at Oniston in the afternoon, so the cold, glassy, inscrutable eye was in its place. Glad to see you, Sir Harry," said Mr Lar- kins; "cold morning, but seasonable." I have cailed," said Harry, in his thick voice, on some business—confoundedly disagreeable business. It seems, yon would scarcely think it, Mr Larkins that there is a new claimant for my mother's property." 1<, I have heard rumours, Sir" Harry, I wont deny. I have hearfl rumours," said Mr Larkins, his brown eye shifting ard smiling, his eye-glass stern and still. "Yon allude, of course, to the claims of the gentleman we have long known and esteemed as Mr Fletcher. Ha ha! ha It's no laughing matter," growled Harry. It is not, indeed, sir it's a serious matter, most serious. But ill life, Sir Harry, 1 laugh where we must, be candid where we can.' And now let us be c,wdH-we can be candid here— you have come to conmlt mc—then let me hear the whole case, sir?" And Larkins shut his brown eye f'xjJcctl<ntly, but hi" glass eye kept 011 its unmoved star-?. Then Hatvy stumbling, and with mnny strong expressions, told how Air Howard had coins to hi" mother's funeral and bronght a strange parson Whit hi 10 una-ked, and how tbls "parson fellow declared lie had married Harry's father 011 such a date to Miss Mary Fletcher. Here Larkins made a note, mid for this purpose opened his brown eye. IL.rry went on to stats that 'us didn't believe 1 it that he thought it was a vile invention (strong expression We) to extort money every one knew this (strong expression) fellow was his father's illegitimate son this fellow had wanted I to marry his (Harry's) wife, and he har1 st8,rted this (strong expansion) scheme for the purpose of trying to injure Harry, because he was jealous, because ho was a brute, because he was a scoun- drel. Gmtiy, gently, Sir Harry," said Larkins, and the brown eye gave an admonitory look, the glass eye sternly still. Harry grew excited, he swore he would die first, before lie would give up his just rights. Just rights?" repeated Larkins, in a tone of inquiry. Was he not his father's son, and his mother's son," shouted Harry. Certainly, no doubt," said Larkins; Sir Henry Blunt's son, and Lady Blunt's son—late Miss Dorothy Sykes, a lady of property, a highly respectable lady." "Then was (strong expression) the brat of a (strong expression) to ba allowed to step into his (Harry's) shoes ? He would die first." My dear sir," said Larkins, mildly, if it is so, your dying will not prevent it." 'jjten what's to be done?" roared Harry, counsel, the best in England," replied Larkins, oracularly Don't spare money," he continued winking his brown eye let us go to the big guns with a big fee. Take your bank- ing book with you, Sir Harry, and don't spare your cheques." And again Larkins laughed, to the secret indignation of the young man. <> But he agreed to do as Larkins bade him, and he asked Larkins to go up to town with him, which r.ii'er Larkiivi accepted with alacrity. Larkins knew well enough when Harry pro- duced with his shaking hands Mr Howard's let- ter, and the copy of the register of the mar- riage of Robert's father and mother, and the date of Robert's birth, that. poor Harry had not a leg to stand 011, 01' a very shaky one at best. But it did mt suit Larkins's little plans to tell Harry this in plain lan- guage. Larkins was a gay man he liked a trip totown, "to shako off the green mould, 'ho called it, and he liked his clients to pay for his trips, and he was very pleased to be called in on such an important case as this. So lie gave Harry some hope to live on, though he admitted that the "other side" had "some- thing to go on." But still Harry left Larkin's offices comforted. He would fight" tho" (strong lauguage) to the last," he told liimself, as he rode home, and gave orders for his immediate de- parture lor town. He sent for Bessie, and told her he was going to meet Larkins, and catch tho afternoon train up to London, and she might tell Florence so. Bessie want upstairs and told Florence, and Florence asked to see him before he went. Presently he entered her room, and was a little startled to see I how ill Florence looked. Well, Flo," be said, I've seen Larkins, and he and I are off to town, and we'll show Mr Robert Fletcher we are not going to throw up the sponge quite so easily. I hope faltered Florence, in her faint voice. I There (and he kissed her), get well like a good girl, and I'll let you know how we get on; we may be away a week or "II," "Yes," said Florence. Then she whispered Forgivo me," and held out her hand to him, which Harry graciously took. Could lie have seen into her heart? She meant forgive me for having married you without love for giving seelllUto her heart? She meant "forgive me for having married you without love for giving I younolote." As Harry could not 5eo into her heart, as his nature was too dense to understand such self-reproach, he supposed she wished to be forgiven for taking ill the night before when he had Kent her down to t<oe Robert. Very weil," he said, "only don't go and maite any more ridiculous scenes, and have that prig Humphrey comuig hero- and giving his advice." Florence smiled feebly as Harry said this. She had bean lying there thinking how she had wronged Harry; she had married him for his position and his fortune, and she had felt that as she had done this, that now when these were passing away from him that she at least ought to cling to him. But Harry Blunt could not appre- ciats the wrestlings of a generous though erring soul. No" faculty divine" stirred his dull being. He was of the earth earthy;" so low that he could never rise. It was a relief wnen na went away. Happy is the woman to whom the sound of her husband's footsteps has music in'fc but to how many it is the departing footstep and not the returning one Florence heard Hairy go downstairs with a sense of in-inito relief; a relisf apparently expoiienced by tiie whole household. Tha air felt lighter somehow when the insolent, passionate boy was not there to breathe it. Harry also was glau to leave the Hall. Hornet Larkins at the station Larkins got up in his best, and with his glass eye brighter than ever in its cold glassiness he had, indeed, given it an extra rut) previous to it" prilposed visit to town. Larkins was in high spirits, and he lowered him- | self to Hurry Blunt's level without any great dilfi- iculty. Jlo told stories that Harry could enjoy, and did not pause to pick his words. They we-nt to a West-end hotel, for Larkins meant to do tha thing well." Wo must show them wo have confidence," he told Harry, and Harry was quite willing to pay. So they made a night of it in Larkins's parlance. They had a good dinner, went to one or two theatres, and admired the town by midnight. But Larkins was I up betimes m the morning, and off to see his "big gun," namely, the eminent counsel he proposed to consult on Harry's rase. Tho eminent counsel was engaged, but could see Mr LM-Knis on the j following day, so Larkins and Harry had another j day of it, and Larkins began to think the country dull, that a man ot spirit was wasted there, and seriously contemplated a change of re- sidence, But the next morning brought soberer reflec- tions. For one thing, Larkins had a violent headache, and for another the emin0nt counsel kept him waiting for an hour before he was ushered into the great man's presence, and when he was tho great man had a cool satirical stare, that even Larkins' glass-eye seemed to feel. However, Larkins stated his case clearly enough, and the eminent counsel reserved his opinion until he had time to examine the docu- ments, &c., WJth which Larkins had gone armed. He hurried Larkins out very speedily, and Larkins returned to the hotel thinking that per- haps an "assured position in the country, where everyone knew and respected you," was bettor than to dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures." CHAPTER XXVI.—Mrs HARRY Blunt. While Harry Blunt and Larkins were making the most of their time in London down by placid Weinaere, the still days stole to the still nights. Florence had risen from her pick bed, and many an hour stood gazing from the windows at the cottage in the blue hazy distance, the fortunes of whose inhabitants had become so strongly mixed with those of the Hall. At the cottage Robert was slowly regaining his strength, and each day that Dr. Arthur Humphrey called the doctor knew by a certain wistful expression on his patient's face that Robert wished to hear how Florence was. The doctor was a grave, some- I what satirical man, but perhaps some feelings in his own heart made him pitiful to Robert, for he always had a word or two to say on this subject. That little woman at the Hall is getting brighter again," he said one morning. I am gl*d of that," replied Robert. I asked ner after her cub this morning," con- tinued the doctor, and it seems Larkins and he are having quite a lively time of it. Larkins has seen (and Dr. Arthur named the eminent counsel Larkins had consulted on the case) and his opinion is not favourable." And Dr. Arthur laughed. Not favourable to Harry you mean ?" said Robert, quickly. "Precisely," and the doctor nodded, "but Larkins is not dismayed he means to consult a few more big wigs, and in the meanwhile Master Harry pays like a prince. But whatever his hopes are, his wife does not indulge in any. She told. me to-day she wished it was settled, and that they were away from the Hall, for she feels in such a false position there." "She shall always be welcome there," said Robert. I don't think she's tho girl to go. She's an odd mixture she was a wayward girl, but 'sweet are the uses of adversity,' to speak like a prig. I expect Florence will turn out a fine character. She made a great mistake, but I think she wishes to make the best of it; she does not sit down and blubber like the fool she has married." For a moment or two Robert did not speak, then he said, I should like to see her I sup- pose she is well enough for me to see her ?" "Yes, if you start no exciting subject, and I think she would like to see you." "I will try to get Mary to go with me," said Robert. "Speak of the devil," he continued, smiling, for at this moment Mary opened the room door and walked in. "Mary, my dear, in this case you represent his Satanic majesty, for I was just speaking of you." Thank you for the compliment," said Mary, smiling and blushing, and shaking hands with Dr Arthur, all at the same moment. There was, indeed, a new-born graciousness and sweetness in her manner, and she looked so bright, so happy, so handsome, thet a very depressed feeling stole subtily into Dr Arthur's heart. Mary had in truth taken herself to task about her manner to the doctor since she had heard of her change of name and fortune. He will think it is prido, when it is only nervousness and folly," Mary had told herself, and hearing Dr. Arthur's voice in the parlour, she came downstairs resolved to talk to him. How do you think cur invalid is looking ? she said, smiling still, and glancing at Robert. Much too well to be pleasant to his doctor's feelings." answered Dr. Arthur, also smiling and shrugging his shoulders. "When he's become such a great man too, it's naturally melancholy to me to contemplate the prospective loss of such an important patient." Both Mary and Robert laughed at this, and Robert in his old good-natured way laid his hand on Dr. Arthur's shoulder. Oh, of course," lie said, 'out you stay and have lunch with us, old fellow, if only to see what a fine appetite I have got." The sight will take away mine," laughed the doctor, but he stayed, and fell in love with Mary six times more desperately than before. She had always been very handsome, but a sort of aggressive pride, a strong deep feeling of shame and anger, had made her at times seem hard, unwomanly, and cold. Now smiling, sweet and fair, what man could resist her ? Notourgrave middle-aged doctor at least, who told himseifas he strode away from Robert's door after lunch that he was a madman, an utter madman, to suppose that a beautiful young woman like that" would ever look at him that he had been a rool that at one time he had perhaps trifled with the sweetest gift of God, and that now, of course, Mary would naturally look upon him with de- served disdain. While the unhappy doc-tor was thus holding bitter converse with himself, Mary and Robert were talking with a new, strange happiness of their dead mother. I am going to ask you to bo extravagant," Robert," s-dd Mary, putting her shapely hand in Ids when things arc settled I want you to put iyp a beaatiful white marble crothe best that j'ou can buy, you know, k> our mothers memory in Weirmere Churchyard. They wronged her in her life about here in death let tbern ail. know she was the wife of Sir Henry Blunt—the good true wife." And Mary's eyes tided with tears. "Very well, my dear," so id Robert. And—and, Robert, forgive me if I was some- times impatient and cross," continued Mary, in her new sweetness and happiness. But no man, only a woman, can understand how dreadful it is to have worse than no mother." And Mary's voice sank Into a WillSl>er. Robert was much moved. He had intended ask- ing Mary to go with him to see Florence, but something, he scarcely knew what, prevented him doing so at this moment. He kissed his sister he said a few tender words. I don't know when you were cross," he said. "You have been the best and kindest girl- but I won't flatter such a conceited young woman as Miss Mary Blunt," he'added, trying to speak lightly; and then he lit a cigar aud went out into the little garden in front, and looked across the misty lake at the indistinct outlines of Weirmere Hall. I He was almost well now, though thin, and haggard-faced still. But he had within him the buoyant feeling of returning health. And the great change in his position also gave him un- doubted satisfaction. But yet he was restless and dissatisfied. He had lost something that he could not easily regain in that sharp struggle before his illness began. He emilen. bitterly even now when lie thought what had been preferred to his true and passionate love smiled, and yet felt not un- kindly to the dark-eyed woman who had made so dire a mistake; he would like to see her again he thought—poor Florence. So withirut returning to the cottage, he Ivgan walking along the road that led to the Hall. By a bird's fiigh; across the lake it was but a short distance, but by the pathway it was more than two miles, and Robert was tired, and the misty winter afternoon was stealing down into twilight before he r0M:hed the familiar O">ltcway Hc rang at the hall-door, and his summons was answered by Appleby, who received him with great apparent pleasure. Mr Fletcher he said, but I beg your par- don, sir, perhaps I should not call you that now, I at least folks are saying so—but anyhow excuse me saying it's a good sight to see you after your long illness, and looking so weil too," added Appleby, bent on making himself agreeable. "Thank you, Appleby," answered Robert, in his pleasant, cordial way. "Yes, I'm almost out of the doctor's hands now, I think." And my poor lady's gone stnce you were here, sir," continued Appleby, with a touch of genuine feeling, "and she was so anxious about you, sir never a day she did not send me out twice to in- quire. I didn't like to coma bothering at your house, but I used to hear regularly how you were going on from the doctor's young man, Thirlwell you know." "011, yes, Mr Thirlwell," smiled Robert, "thank you, Appleby, for making so ma.ny in- quiries" (here there was a little further exchange of civilities, by a sovereign passing from Robert's pocket to Appleby's). Is—your—is Mrs Harry Blunt at home ?" "Yes, Sir Robert." answered Appleby with a bow. Mr Harry, you know, is still in town," he added, lowering his voice he and Larkins the attorney, but folks say he's only wasting his time." And having given this pleasing bit of in- formation in a confidential tone, Appleby led the way to the drawing-room, and opened the door and allowed Robert to walk in unannounced, for Appleby was a. prudent man, and wished to give no offonce either to the present or future possessors of tho Hall. There was a big, bright fire burning in the ample grate, and by its light as he advanced into the room he saw a black-robed slender figure lying back on an easy chair, and two small slender feet resting Oil the fender. Robert not being announced, for the very good reasoVi that Appleby did not know exactly what to call turn, walked close up to Florence before she even raised her head to look round to see who it was that entered the room. When she saw Robert she rose with a visible start, and held out a trembling hand to him. But with a strong effort the next moment she had conquered her agitation. Her pride helped her to do this; her pride that she had stooped so low the last time she had seen him, when Robert had half-taunted her with pretending a regard for him, and Florence had secretly sworn that he should never taunt her again with this. How are you ?" she said, now. Are you better r" I called," auswered Robert, in that deep ring- iug voice of his, to ask how you were, and with your permission I will sit down." Florence pointed to a low seat by the fire with a sort of laugh. I suppose it's really I who ought to ask your permission here," she said, but Harry has not come back yet, and till then I did not come to talk on business, Florence," said Robert with a smile, we can arrange all that afterwards. I came to say how sorry I was to hear you hava been ill." Yes, I—I—caught cold somehow. I think I am better now. So Mary would not come with you ?" Florence said this nervously and hastily, while Robert kept watching her noting how her checks had got thin, and her eyes violet-rimmed and sad, I did not ask Mary to come with me Mary will come in due state some day soon," he said. She must be very pleased about all this, of course, she is naturally very pleased," said Florence, looking wistfully at the fire. Well, I think she is very pleased," answered Robert. "She is sure to be her lifo will be so different; i she is so handsome she will be makiug some great match, Robert 1" And Florence gave a little uneasy laugh. This is the first thing hading 0f,» sai(J Robert, but the next moment he repented having spoken the cruel words, for a deep flush rose in- stantly on Florence's face. Yes," she said, with a certain defiance gleam- ingin her eyes, "of course it is it is our best means of earning a livelihood, only we sometimes make mistakes." And again Florence gave a laugh. Robert made no reply. He rose from his low seat by the fire, and went to the window, and stood looking down at the misty lake. Back to his mental vision at this moment came the night when he had stood on this very spot with Florence and asked her to be his wife. He remem- bered what he had offered her — the best a man can give, and he remembered her reply. I am worldly, I suppose," Florence had said, I want to be rich and to be my lady, and so I must make the best of my bargain." Her "bargain," Harry Blunt, had turned out a bitter failure; she was not "my lady now," and the day of Robert's triumphant had come and yet he did not feel very triumphant. He was sorry for her; sorry, but sometimes he almost hated her, and yet he loved her still; and he was not going to be so mean, he told himself, as again to taunt the poor little woman." She was only a girl, poor Chester had brought them up badly poor Florence." And Robert sighed. Florence, sitting stiil by the fire, heard that sigh, and rose and came beside him. Are you thinking of Lady Blunt?" she said, softly. Poor Lady Blunt, she was alive the last time you were here, Robert." Yes," said Robert, looking at Florence's face in the àim twilight. Sometimes I have felt sorry about her," con- tinued Florence with a sort of charming grace of manner indescribably winning to her listener. Robert, since I have been married, sometimes when Harry has l.een angry, he has said things about poor father that have made me think I was unjust, perhaps, to Lady Blunt. What was the truth about poor father, Robert ? I would like to know don't mind telling me I can bear a great deal now'" "Poor girl!" said Robert, almost under his breath. What did he do ?" urged Florence. Did he bake her money, or what was it ?" Best not speak of it," said Robert, gently. "Lady Blunt always felt kindly to your father, Florence; he was unfortunate in business. It is not generous of Harry to speak of it now." Harry does not know the meaning of the word, Robert," said Florence, a little bitterly. Again Robert sighed. Have you heard from him ?" he asked, presently. Yes, this morning." Well, and what does he say ?" That he won't give in, and a great deal of folly. They have consulted two barristers, and spent a. lot of money, and he admits both these men say he has no chance, but they are going to see someone else. Hewever, we shall know soon." And Florence smiled. Yes," again said Robert. U I think I shall write to him, Florence," he added. To Harry 1" said Florence, in surprise. Robert nodded. I will tell you why," he said. Mr Howard wishes to urge this affair on, and Mary wishes it; and Mr Howard has also employed counsel and there is but one opinion among the lawyers on the case, aud it is a pity for Harry to waste his money. If he likes to go into court, of course he can but I scarcely think he will be so foolish in the face of such positive evidence. However, I do net suppose he will, and I wish it to be arranged in a friendly manner, for Harry is my father's son, and the son of a woman for whom I had a great regard. So I have made up my mind to offer Harry three thousand a year— the wiiole of his mother's fortune, in fact—and I d°nt thmk the young gentleman need grumble." • i^?u aie (?eaerous, Robert, most generous," saJd ^lOience, deeply moved. "I don't say I'm generous, but I want to be just. My father, of course, did not mean this he meant all the money to go to the heir, but I think he was unjust to Harry." tr kmnk he wa8 ul)ju3t," said Florence. He never could bear the boy, wasn't it odd ?" wcntonRobert. "Youknowlwaswithhima groat deal before he died, and he used to talk to m?. quits openly of his dislike to his poor wife and her son. But lie thought he was bound by honour to keep his first marriage a secret from Lady Blunt, as when he married her she believed him to be a batchelor. So he made all his arrange- ments and advised me exactly what to do," and Robert laughed. (i :J-t i"3 a strange thing," said Florence. Yes, and there is Mary, of course, to be thougiit of. I have gone as far as I can, Florence. I want you to make Harrv understand this, in making him an oifer of an allowance of three thou- sand a year, I could not keep up the place and title on less than what this will leave me. Yon see I know the rent roll exactly, as I have acted agent to the estates." it j V to° lnuc'' for you to give," said Florence. I have been thinking, far too much for a younger son." ? l a y°unSer son m an ordinary position, yes but not for a younger son m the peculiar circumstances iu which Harry has been placed he was brought up to believe himself to be the heir to her fortuue." heir to her fortuue." I do not know what to say," answered I J'loreacc, casting down her dark eyes, and then Jilting them suddenly with a smile to Robert's ^lut is that, Robert, about heaping coals of fire on the head or your enemy you are neaping them on mine." e wish to be your enemy I do not leel liKe your erneiny," saiu Robert, simply, "and now as I do not want to tire you I will say good- bye," and he held out his hand. I And you will C0VlV? ;H?aiu ?" said Florence. Yes, if I may, In a day or two I will write to Harry, and in the meantime I expect he will be gaining experience. Good-bye, Florence." And the next moment Robert was gone. A few minutes later Bessie cautiously opened the drawing-room door, and seeiug Florence alone come forward. I thought I heard someone talking to you," shesaid. Has Harry come back?'' "No, it was Robert Blunt," replied Florence, and as she looked up her sister saw she was cry- ing. "Hobart Blunt! and he's been vexing you again ?" No, he's been telling me about what he means to do. I mean about money." And what does he mean to do ?" asked Bessie sharply. Oh Bessie, he is the most generous, the most noble wept Florence. "Ha is going to give Harry Lady Blunt's entire fortune—three thousand a year." Well, that really is handsome," said Bessie. But what are you crying for, Flo? Why, you've made a very good match after all; three thousand a year indeed, and the son of a baronet; few girls do so well, and in our position it is wonderful! Come, Flo, give me a kiss you are a fortunate girl." "No, no," said Florence, as she kissed her sister, but Bessie grew quite lively. "Persuade Harry to live in London," she said and we'll be as jolly as possible there, and after all Weirmere is a stupid place, and the county people would always have looked down upon us onaccountofpoor father. Things have turned out very well, I think, and I am sure if Harry will take a pretty little house in town I won't, for one, envy Sir Robert (and Bessie laughed) the possession of this dull, old place." And the Hall was no doubt very dull for the sisters at this time. No one had called upon them Lady Blunt's old friends holding aloof until, at all events, the disputed title was settled, and it was definitely known whether Harry Blunt was the heir or merely a second son. Some of the older ladies remembered perfectly the scandal about the first Mary Fletcher, the yeo- man's beautiful daughter, who had fled from her father's roof with the graceless, handsome man that they had danced with and admired in the days of their girlhood. The affair had never indeed been quite forgotten, and had been revived when the second Mary Fletcher—handsomer even than the first—had appeared among them. And now, when it was openly said that Sir Henry Blunt had married the yeoman's daughter, and that her son was the real heir, we may be sure the whole country side rang with the story. At Lansdowne Lodge, Mrs Humphrey and Miss Tomkins could talk of nothing else. At first Mrs Humphrey would give no credence to the idea of Sir Henry's early marriage. After Lady Blunt's funeral, however, when Dr. Arthur was present, and such convincing proofs were laid before Harry Blunt by Mr Howard and the clergyman who had absolutely married Harry s father to his first wife, Mrs Humphrey was obliged to admit that she feared that there had been a marriage. She was a Christian lady this, who went to church regularly, and held her white head very high when she was there, with an air of conscious virtue, but she was utteriy disgusted to find that Sir Henry had married the low-born mother of his children, though that low-born mother had been virtuous, pure, and fair. It id absoiutely shocking," she said to sister Ann, and Miss Tompkins agreed with her. But somehow they never cared to express their opinion quite openly before Dr. Arthur. They did so, however, to Mr Thirlwell, who chivalrously declared, tothe horrorof the old ladies, that" Miss Mary Blunt was fit company for the highest of the land and "few of 'em can match her," added this ardent admirer. True, Mr Thirlwell's knowledge of "the highest of the laud," was bird's-eye and distant as it were, but this did not prevent him speaking with authority on the sub- ject, for it was not one of Mr Thirlwell's faults to be over modest. And Mary had raised the flick- ering flame of love in his bosom to white heat by stopping him one day, when she had met bim going his business rounds," and talking to him more agreeably than she had ever done before," whispered Mr Thirlwell's delighted soul to him after Mary had proceeded 011 her walk. Now, this meeting was after it was very well known in the countryside that not Sir Harry, but Sir Robert was the heir of Weirmere, and therefore Mr Thirlwell drew his happy conclusions to his entire satisfaction. She loves me, I declare I believe she loves me," he told himself, and immediately on his re- turn to Lansdowne Lodge, ho hurried to his bed- room and gazed at himself admiringly in the look- ing glass. Clear akin," he said, good features, blue eyes, hair thick, with a reddish tinge certainly, but that is fashionable. Yes, nature has been a kind godmother to me. I may say I'm handsome —means certainly defective, but Mary Blunt will have means—a baronet's daughter, a lovely woman. Joseph Thirlwell, you havo done well." He was so pleased with himself that he was ready to fight a hundred battles for Mary with the old ladies downstairs. He laughed to scorn now (inwardly) the idea of Mary looking at old Humphrey. That was very well when she had no money, and 110 position to speak of now she naturally prefers youth and good looks—yes, women are fond of looks." And Mr Thirlwell laughed his self-conteuted laughs, and thought of his many eonqnests. I (To be continued.)

Our Kuniskillen correspondent telegraphs that the rival Orange and Nationalist meetiug3 called for Wednesday next at the Biack Lion have been I proclaimed.

THE HEIR OF OLYNAFOV. BY BE ill AH G. EVAN'S, Author of THE Fair Ma to of Ystrad Tywi," Roundhead and CAVALIER," Bronwen," &c. BOOK THE THIRD.—The Heir AND THE OWNER. CHAPTER X.-THE Return MATCH MATE. When Gwynne Vaughan had read his note he turned pala as death, and then as he looked up at Edith, a rush of colour swept over his face. His voice was strangely agitated as he spoke :— Father, Aunt—You will excuse Edith and me, will you not ? Here Edith, dear, throw this shawl over your shoulders, and come out with me ?" and scarcely waiting for permission, he linked her arm in his, and led her out through the window which her mother had quitted twenty- three years ago at the call of her lover. Edith, dear," said he, can you bear to hear strange news ?" She looked up at him startled. There can be only one strange news for me in the world now." And that ?" That the dead have risen." The dead, or those who were supposed dead, have risen before now," replied he. She stopped, and placed her hand to her breast. Gwynne, do not rouse in me false hopes." L ditli, darling, hope what you may, the reality will be better, brighter." Oh, Gwynne Can it be true Is Arthur living ?' He is living,—and here Where Oh let me g-o to hiin My brave heart Stay, Edith, dear, can you bear the meeting?" I have cause to believe that the groat trouble which met him a year ago has passed now, and that the obstacles which then arose no longer exist. I thank heaven for it and yet it was with a great gulp he turued his face away after saying the words. <C 13 n 1 X 1 1 r- mm In 1 T x vol- uwyime 1 x nau lorgott-en i • ana sne turned to him pityingly. Hush, Edith, dear, not a word It is better so. I need no ask if you wish to go to him." Her blush was sufficient answer. Here, then. This was enclosed in my letter, with a request to give it you, if you wished to see him," and he handed her a little slip folded in true-iover's-knot-style. She read it Mi godais heddyw gyda'r wawr, Gau frysio'n fawr fy lludded, Er cael cusauu ol dy droed Ar hyd y coed yn cerdded. Er mwyn y Gwr a. wnaeth dy wedd, Rho im' drugaredd bellacli. That was all, but it was enough. Poor boy," she said, he has suffered. Shall I go, Gwynne ?" No." She looked surprised. I will take you. From his hands I received you from my hands he shall have you back." She threw her arms up, pulled his face towards her, and gave him a warm, loving kiss-the warmest she had ever given him. Poor Gwynne! He knew too well what that kiss meant It meant a death blow to any linger- ing hope which his heart in its most secret recess might have fostered. Down the avenue they went, arm-in-arm. She with heart bounding with hope. He with the courage of friendship and love holding him up. At last they reached the appointed spot. Two trees rose up side by side, intertwining branches lovingly, and proudly topping all around. They were the Twin Oaks. By the Twin Oaks stood two persons awaiting them— a man and a woman. The woman was thickly veiled, but no second glance was needed to show who the man was. It was Arthur. With a glad cry she rushed forward with out- stretched arms. He would have leapt to meet her, but his com- panion placed a firm grip upon his shoulder. Not a step on she said sternly, fiercely. Not a step on. It must be here on this very spot. Dau gysgod dau bren ?' Between the Twin Trees.' Even a step out might break the charm." Before she had finished speaking Edith had reached them, and her arms were around his neck, and his about her waist, and there, heart to heart, lips to lips, the twin souls :net between the Twin Oaks. Gwynne had held back for a moment. Now he advanced. Arthur My more than brother. Thank God for this A hand clasp, telling far more than words, was the reply. From your hands I received her. Mine alone shall give her back to you, as I now give her," and taking her right hand in his, he placed it in Arthur's. The veiled woman watched them closely. There is little of the father there," she muttered. Arthur, you gave your life for me by the banks of the Buffalo, at lsandhl wana. I give you more than my life on the banks of the Afon at Glynafon, for as God is my judge, she is more than life to me." Gwynne My friend Indeed I do not de- serve it. I cannot say I regret the oath I took that day, but had I known there was a possibility, even the most remote/if this meeting, I would not have, given it." It is better so, Arthur. You deserve her and the happiness she will bring you." Edith now for the first time noticed that the strange woman still stood there. She had thrown back the thick veil which concealed her features, disclosing the face which must once have been very handsome. Edith," said Arthur," This is my benefactor. To her I owe my life and you." Impulsive as a child, she sprang forward, and threw her arms around the woman's neck, kissing the wrinkled cheeks, and saying You will let me love you for his sake, will you not ?" The woman wiped away a tear, the first for over twenty years, ere she said: If your mother, child, was like you, it was Ill) wonder he went to her." Then turning to Gwynne she said— And you, young man, thank heaven that though you have your father's blood, you have none of his base spirit. His besetting sin was selfishness; your crowning glory is self-sacrifice. I owe you much for the service you have done my friend, whoever you may be. Do not, I pray you, cancel my debt, by reflecting thus upon my father." Your answer, young man, only proves the truth of what I said. It is a pity that you must witness what it is necessary you should witness. This night you shall see your father in a new light." It will be a new light if it will be other than that of an honourable Welsh gentleman." We shall see. But come. We have stayed long enough. The prophecy must be fulfilled. Let us go. That has to be said to-night which, God knows, I would give the world to be able to un- say," and she led the way with long strides up the avenue towards the house. Stopping at the lawn, she gave a few directions to the others. Gwynne went in first. Miss Winifred sat in the same high-backed chair she occupied when we saw her last in the library at Glynafon*, and Sir Owen Vaughan sat in the easy chair, which was on that dread night filled by Sir Arthur. The door opened, and Gwynne entered. His face was pale, and there was an anxious tttok in his eyes his father had never seen before. Where have you been, boy ? And where is your cousin ?" asked the baronet, as his son came and stood by his side. My cousin is here," he said, and at the word Edith entered, leaning on Arthur's arm. Good God It is my lost Gwynne's ghost shrieked Miss Winifred. The baronet muttered a curse, and glared at the new comer. What follv is this ?" asked Sir Owen in a stern voice. Miss Vaughan, do you not see this ill- timed nonsense ? Order your niece to her room." No, no, Owen, lad," said Miss Winifred, not yet understanding how things stood, and still be- lieving the stranger to be her long lost favourite nephew. No, no, let them be. Gwynne and Edith wero meant for each other long ago. Let them be. God bless them." Dotard said he, smothering a curse at the same time, then turning again to Arthur, he demanded And you, young sir, have you ventured again to the country which witnessed your father's crime ? What do you want here ?" I have come, Owen Meredith, for three things. I have come for my bride I have her in my arms, and nothing you can do shall take her from hero more," and he caressed the golden head on his shoulder, and smiled down upon the sweet blue eyes which were reading lovingly every line of his countenance. Very wel!, sir, on your head be the 'conse- quences. I have given you fair warning." I am fully prepared to take the consequences. I have given you fair warning." I am fully prepared to take the consequences. I have come, in the next place, to clear my father's memjry." That will prove too great a task, even for your undoubted ability, in the face of his written confession," sneered the baronet. That remains to be seen," was the calm reply. In the next place, Mr Meredith —— "How, sir! What do you mean?" and the baronet leant forward as though he would rush upon the other. Pray, Mr Meredith, be calm, and let me conclude. In the last place, I came to claim my own." Your own Your own what, pray ?" Ay, my own My own name, my own title, my own right Ha ha ha Well then, in God's name take them. Here they are. The namo—Arthur. God- knows-what. Your title you seem so proud of, Cain's Son. Your right-to be kicked outside by my servants," and he rang the bell violently. The answer was a very different one from what he expected. Instead of the servants, there en- tered the room a woman, tall, commanding, with ghost-like tread. CHAPTER XI AND LA-T.-THE RETURN Match.—Checkmate. The new comer was, as we saw her half-an- hour ago, thickly veiled. hour ago, thickly veiled. Sir Owen felt a strange fear at his heart, as he looked at the woman. Who could she be, and what had she to do with him ? What means this ? Who are you ? Where do you come from ?" As to who I am, you shall learn soon enough. fl As to where I come from, I come from witnessing the meeting of these two lovers at the Twin Oaks." At the TvViii Oaks ?" screamed iMiss WTiiii- fred. Oh Gwynne Gwynne! You ought to have known better You knew the prophecy :— Pydd tywyli, ilviid pruddaidd i deulu Glynafon, • Pan Kyferfydd iUu siariad (lun gysgod dau '-ven Y twyllwr a .iwviU, uaw gwa^ ac wylofain, vo ise! <d ben. Oh. woeful aiul dark to t.he House of Glynafon, The day tha: true lovers 'tween the twin trees shall meet; A traitor deceiving will bring woe and wailing;- The Heir of Glynafon lies low at his feet. Oh Gwynne Gwynne How could you be so mad 2" and the old lady burst into tears. No, no, ma'am, interposed the woman bit- terly, that meeting passed twenty-three years ago, and the prophecy was fulfilled all too well. Ask that white faced villain how." And she pointed contemptuously to the baronet, who sat cowering in the depths of his chair. The woman continued again, relentlessly as Fate .— You have forgotten the last part of the pro- phecy, ma'am. It will do your heart good to re- member it. Here it is :— Dydd goleu, dydd dedwydd, Hawenydd Glynafon, Pan uair dau gariad dan fiysgod dau brail Y twylhvr a dwyllir, y caul a unionir, Bydd Etifedd Glynafon yn uchel ei ben. Oh, happy and bright to the House of Glyn< ion The day when two lovers 'tween twin trees shall meet, When the traitor is cheated, the grief will be ended, And the Heir of Glynafon returned we will greet. There ma'am. That has been done to-day, and happy the day that sees him return as he stands here now." What damned nonsense is this," cried the baronet, starting fiercely to his feet. Who arc you, woman, witch, devil, who and what are you ?" For answer she lifted her veil and looked steadily at him. The haggard face lighted by the blazing eyes, and had a long, long finger, pointed at him. Owen Meredith does not remember his old friends, I see but they remember him." He sank back in the chair. He drew his hand across his forehead, trying to remember. There was something in the voice, hard and harsh us it was, which recalled to his memory some music which had charmed his heart in the years long gone by. He looken again at the face filled with wrinkles, at the eyes sunken, but still full of fire, at the bony figure, at the grey tangled hair, and as lie looked, imagination made the grey hair glossy, tne sunken eyes spaikling, filled up the furrows of the cheeks, making the face round and velvety smooth, replanted the roses on the pallid cheek, and put the nectar on the lips clothed again with flesh, the bony arms rounding them gracefully, and reproduced the bust of Venus on the ungainly outline. Yes, yes, his heart told him what his eyes had I failed to show him, and he gasped :— Kate Parry Ay Owen Meredith, false friend that thou wert, 'tis Kate Parry, and Kate Parry will yet see the right done Kate Parry cried Miss Winifred, rising tremblingly. 1* I remember Kate Parry She was a brave girl and a pretty. She heeded no more Sir Arthur than she did me. And let me see. Yes, it was Kate Parry had something to do with Arthur. Tell me, woman, where is Ar- thur ?" and the old lady advanced and seized the other by the shoulder. Now, for the first time, the strange woman lost her self-possession she paled to the lips, and a look of horror shone in her eyes. Sir Owen came to the rescue. "Miss Winifred, you know that Arthur fell over the rocks, more than twenty years ago. How he came to fall over is another matter, and for the sake of this young man I would rather not say how." No, sir, do not hesitate on my account. I want you to repeat here, in the presence of these friends, the charge you brought at my last inter- view with you, and which was the only cause of my leaving the conntry." Well, since you so earnestly desire it, I am not the man to baulk you. It is more your business than mine. I call you, then, to witness that Gwynne Vaughan did, twenty-three years ago, foulty murder his brother, Arthur Vaughan." An exclamation of horror escaped Edith and her cousin, while Miss Winifred, towering up, asked sternly Who dares bring that charge against my boy ? I dare, Miss,Winifred, and here I have the proof. Here is a written confession, under his own hand. In it he says that after quarrelling with his father, he rushed out half maddened that meeting his brother at the turn, they came to words and blows, and that he struck his brother over the rocks and killed him. Hdre is the paper in his own writing, signed with his own name." Gwynne," said Arthur calmly, though his face was deadly pale, will you look at the paper ?" The baronet contemptuously threw it to his son. Now, Gwynne," continued Arthur, will you look at that carefully, and tell us where the confession says the struggle took place ?" Gwyune ran his eyes over the paper. Yes," lie said, the writer specifies the place. He says, At Jhe lower turn I met my brother. That will do. Now, Gwynne, with your knowledge of the surroundings here, what light does what you have just read throw upon the charge against my dead father ?" Gwynno again looked at the paper, and in- stantly his countenance cleared. "It is evident that the writer must have been under the effects of some hallucination. As a matter of fact, the body was found. under the Higher Turn, half a mile nearer to the house. A cross was erected there, and stands now to mark the place where tha body was found." The baronet glared at his son, and muttered a curse under his breath. Miss Winifred, who had been listening with bated breath, broke in- Ay, poor Arthur! Under the Higher Turn his body was found. There were dozens who went there to see the place, and who saw the bits of clothes on the brambles, and noticed the signs of his sliding, poor fellow, from the corner of the Higher Turn." Whatever the writer of this confession may have thought," said Gwynne Vaughan again, it is evident enough that the confession is practically useless as evidence incriminating him in the sight of the law of man or God. He describes a struggle which took place half-a-mile lower down than where the body was found. This supposed struggle took place under the Lower Turn, and the body was found under the Upper Turn, so that there can be no possible connection between the two events." "Fool," muttered her father, "you cut the ground from under your own feet." Ay It was under the Higher Turn, it was there my bonny Arthur fell, fell to his death (It was Kate Parry now who spoke, or rather moaned.) "And oh! woe is me that I should live to say that it was-" Wozniii Kate! St.op! Do you consider what it is you are saying ?" cried Sir Owen, advancing towards her threateningly. She waved him back. You know as well as I, Owen Meredith, what took place how it was that my beautiful Arthur came to his death. Oh God in heaven, what a burden has the knowledge been to me, day and night, since that dread night. How often have I prayed that the sea. should swallow me, or the mountains fall upon me, or that God should strike me with everlasting blindness—anything that would take from my eyes the ever present reminder of what I did." She paused, the scalding tears falling between the fingers she clasped over her eyes, and the great beads of perspiraticn, tokens of the mental agony, breaking out upon her brow. Then again she went on- "Ay I see it now before me, as I have done hundreds of times since that night. With fire in my brain and the devil in my heart I left Glvn- aton that night, and hurried down the road, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, knowing nothing, until I ran against Arthur Vaughan at the Hither Turn. 'Arthur,' I said, 'You must not marry Edith Lloyd.' He raised his fist to strike me, he whom I had loved so well. You too, you devil,' he said, I it is not half an hour since I met Gwynne with the same story, and because I wouldn't promise lie sprang at my throat like a tiger, and I came very near falling over the cliff. I suppose he thought I had gone over, for he fled as though the devil were at his heels. And now you come to me with the same story. What is it you want me to do, pray ?' My God how every word he said and I said rises up before me now I want you to marry me,' I said. He laughed aloud. Marry you indeed ? You do you consider what you are?' And yet, oh my God I bore even this also, and from him. 'Arthur,' I said again; for the love of God leave this girl and make me an honest woman, and give my unborn child a name,' and I placed my hand upon his arm, and would have knelt to him. I D-n you, get out of my way, you he said, and tried to push past me. God alone knows how it happened, for I do not, but a moment afterwards I stood alone on the brink, and his shriek filled my brain. It is in my ears now. Hark Don't you hear it ?" The listeners stood spell-bound and silent, The silence was broken by Miss Winifred. "I knew my boy, my Gwynne, could never have done it, poor lad," and she wiped her eyes. "And he knew it. I met him by the bridge, and told him to look for Arthur under the Higher Turn," continued Kate again. "He won't deny that." Sir Owen cowered back in his chair. Trying to summon up his failing courage, he said— I thought then and think now that you were mail, and no more believed you then than I be- lieve you are answerable now for what you say. What court in the country would give credence to a mad woman's cock-and-bull story ?'' Hush father," said Gwynne. My heart tells me she speaks the truth, and your heart tells you the same. Rejoice as I do that your dead friend's memory is cleared." "Idiot! Do you turn against me?" cried the now roused baronet. But were all the world against me, I would see them foiled. You are welcome to believe her story if you choose, but I don't 11 see it will do this-this young man any good." Father, how can you say so ? Of course he will claim his estate." Let him. He may claim, but he can never have." But father, by the terms of my uncle's will. and the entail itself, everything goes to my cousin," Nothing goes to him, I tell you. Nothing goes to an illegitimate child." Illegitimate child gasped Arthur. Ay," laughed Sir Owen. I have you there. Your father never married your mother, and you are therefore i. al^her, I pray you stop. Think what we owe 4i r. hat I owe, what you owe." I know wnafc I owe him. I owe him the up- setting of my dearest hope. I owe him a shame- less attempt to take away what the law gave me. What the law has given me, the law will help me to keep." Kate Parry looked at Arthur dismayed. Was it possible that, after all, this man would get the better of them ? "Father," again interposed Gwynne, I owe him my life, and for Heaven's sake do not doliim this wrong. I swear that if you do not yield up possession t" him at once, I will make over to him everything by deed of gift as soon as it conies to me." I. He shall wait until you do get it, then. Do you think that Glynafon shall go to such as At J" And why not to such as be?" demanded Edith, the colour mounting her cheeks. Why not ? For a very simple reason, indeed. Because he has no claim to his father's name. Whatanicebitofscandalforyourftiends. The heiress of Arranfawr wedded to a man without a name. "But be has a name. Whatever his father's name was is his. If his father was Gwynne Vaughan, he surely must be Arthur Vaughan," reasoned she "Excellently reasoned. No doubt a second Daniel come to judgment. But, my dear, for cases of this kind proofs are wanting in the way of marriage certificates, of birth, or baptism, and the like." <i Sa'^ S^e a happy smile. Oh, Arthur, darling, how glad I am that even poor little I can help you. I don't know how it came about exactly. There is a portrait in the small gallery at Arranfawr, the very picture of Arthur. I suppose now it must have been your fathers, dear," looking up in his face. Sir Owen paled. I used to spend many an hour there, looking at his darling face. One day—it was last weak, the day before we started for Glynafon-I was tnere looking at the dear face of him I thought was dead, and I got 011 a chair and kissed him. (Here a pretty blush.) By doing so my hand touched a hidden spring*. The panel ifevv open, and in a small recess behind were several papers and, among others, the marriage certificate of Artnur \V ynn and Mary Davies, of Llangwyfen, and then the certificate of baptism of their son Arthur Wvnn. I thought no one could have a better right to them than I, and so I took them, and have them here now next my heart. Oh Arthur, my love my own love I am so glad I have been able to do you some service." The look of baffled rage on Owen Meredith's 1 face was horrible to see. cO Foiled on every side, he had nothing to do. The traitor was indeed cheated. That night he left Glynafon never to return. His son, hithful to himself, his friend, and his duty, would not now desert his father. His attendance upon him, however, was not for long. Owen Meredith died in a few months, his spirit having been utterly crushed. Kate Parry's depositions were taken by a magistrate, but before any further steps could be taken she, too, died. It must ever remain a mystery to what extent she was answerable for her lover's death, and to what extent Owen Meredith believed her first wild storv. What more need I say? j In the autumn of 18d3 might have been heard the sound of marriage bells echoing and re-echo- ing- through the length and breadth of Glynafon. It was Gwynre Meredith, as we now must call him, who gave away the bride to his friend Arthur Vaughan, owner of Glynafon. Gave her with his whole heart and soul, gave her loving her better than his own life. Arthur had made a great sacrifice at Isawdhl- wana he offered up his life for his friend. But I am almost inclined to think that Gwynne made a greater sacrifice yet at Glynafon Church when he gave up willingly what he valued more than life. Ah It is not on the field of battle alone, but in many a quiet corner of the field of life also that true bravery is tested. Brave Gwynne Meredith! And now I have done. No, not quite. Sitting here on this fine evening in June, 1883, writing these last lines of a story I thought I had already closed, there reach my ears strange sounds. I open my window and listen. There is ringing of bells, and firing of minute Sfuns. The sounds come from Glynafon. What do they show ? Ah I have it Dear reader, they show that now has opened his eyes for the first time on this world another Heir OF Glynai-on THE END.

0 Dymunir i'n goliebwyr Cymreig gyfeirio eu goheb- iaethau, llyfrau i'w hadolygu, &c., fel y canlyn Dafydd Morganwg, Morganivg House, llantwit. street, Cardiff.

AT EIN GOHEBWYR. Y mae'r defnyddiau yn dylifo i mown yn llwythi lluosog o bob cyfeiriad; fel y bydd y Golofn heb fod yn hir cyn daled ag un o big- dyrau yr Aipht. Dyma rai o'r defnyddiau sydd wedi eu derbyn ddiweddaf; ond nid ydym yn nodi yr oil, er fod yma rai i gael ymddangos nad ydym yn eu henwi. "Yr Aelwyd."—Cywydd bychan, tlws iawn, ac yn ddarlun gwych o'r aelwyd. Y Goleudy."—Rhaid fod y Golofn yn myned yn fawr cyn y gellir gosod goleudy cyfan yn faen yn y mur. Y Meddwyn."—Y mac yn anhawdd rhoi gwaith i feddwyn proffesedig; ond dyna, y mae ambell feddwyn yn grefftwr campus. Gwell ei gyflogi ar dreial, onid ydyw, fechgyn ? Yr Afon,"—Dyna, yfed faint a fyno o hon ac ni fedd wa. "Y Fellten.—Y mae yn rhaid i ni gael yr electric wire i amddiffyn y Golofn os fflachia mellt yn ami o'i chwmpas. Crist yu Feichiau."—Englyn da. "Craig y Forwyn."—Dyma lei gael digon 0 feini adeiladu bellach-dyma groig gyfan. I. Pobpeth dan Rif."—Dyma nfyddiaeth bene ach, neu yn hytrach dyma rifyddwr a fedr rifo nid yn unig holl feini yr adeilad, and pob peth arall. Gwefus y gwirionedd a saif byth," yn nghyd a rhes o ddiarebion ereil! i ymddangos yn eu tro. "Duw parod i faddeu."—Mwy addas i gy. hoeddiad crefyddol nag i newyddiadur. Y Rhagrithiwr.—Wei, lie y mae cynifer o weithwyr deheuig, diwyd, a gonest, y mae yn deg iddynt gael golwg ar hwn, er mwyn ei ochelyd. "Ffarwel,"— Darn rhagorol, a chyfieithiad rhagorol hefyd. Y Cysgwr mown Addoliad."—Y mae golwg hyll ar hwn ond, er hyny, fe ddichon y gedy yr arferiad ar ol gweled ei lun ar y Golofn. Na ddigied awdwyr y darnau na enwyd cSnt yr uu chwareu teg a'r lleill. Ii

Y GALON DOREDIG. Pa nifer 0 lygaid dysglaer a dywyllant; pa nifer o ruddiau tyner a welwant; pa. nifer o gyrff hawddgar a ddihoenant i'r bedd heb neb yn gallu dweyd yr achos o edwinedd eu hawdd- garweh ? Fel y gwasg y golomen ei hedyn at ei hystlysau er mwyn cuddio a dirgelu y saeth sydd yn anrheithio ei chalon, felly y mae natur merch yn cuddio pangau serch clwyfedig o olwg y byd. Y mae cariad benyw wylaidd bob amser yn ofnus a dystaw. Hyd yn nod pan yn llwyddianus, prin y sibryda hyny wrthi ei huu; ond pan fel arall, hi a'i cladda yn nghilfachau dirgelaf ei mynwes boenus, ac a'i gedy yno i eistedd a deor yn mlilith adfeilion ei dedwyddweh. Iddi hi y mae dymuniad y galon wedi trengu. Y mae prif swyn bodolaeth wedi darfod. Y mae gwreichionen olaf ei gobaith wedi diffodd. Hi a lwyr esgeulusa holl ymarferion dyddan, y y rhai a lewyrchant ysbryd, a fywiocant y gwaed, ac a anfonant ffrydlif bywyd yn ffrydiau iachusol trwy y gwthienau. Ei gorphwysdra sydd dor- edig gwenwynir adfywiad cwsg melus gan freuddwydion pruddaidd. Yfir ei gwaed can ofid sychediff a bwyteir ei chnawd gan siom gwancus. Edrychwch am dani, ac yn mhen ychydig enyd chwi a ganfyddwcli gyfeillgarwch yn wylo uwch ben ei bedd anamserol, gan ryfeddu fod un, yr hon yn ddiweddar a lewyrchai a holl belydr iechyd a phrydferthweh, wedi dwyu i lawr mor gyfiym i'r tywyllwch at y pryf. Dywedir wrthych am ryw oerfel gauafol—rhyw anhwylder damweiniol, a fu yn foddion i'w gosod yniscl; ond ni wyr neb am y meddylglwvf oedd wedi blaenorol ddadfeillo ei nerth, gan ex wneud yn ysglyfaeth mor hawdd ac esmwyth i'r anrheithydd. Y mae hi yn debyg i bren tyner, balchder a phrydferthwch y gaedwig; golygus ei ffurf, a gwyrdd ei ddail, ond a'r pryf yn ysu ei galon. Canfyddwn ef yn sydyn wywo, pan y dylai fod yn fwyaf iraidd a gordyfol. Y mae bywyd ei gangau yn dihoeni, gogwyddant tua'r ddaiar, gan golli deilen ar ol deilcn, hyd nes elwi a chrino ac yna syrth i'r llawr, er na fydd yr un awel yn ysgwyd dail y wig a phan y prudd tsynwn uwch ben yr adfad fu geindlos, yn ofer yr ymdrechwn gofio y malldod, neu y daranfollt allasai ei tharo ii chrindod. Y mae llawer o enghreifftiau o ferched yn ymlithro i nychdod, a hunan-esgeulusdra, gan raddol ddiflanu oddi ar y ddaiar, meg-ys pe buasent yn esgyn yn fyg-darth i'r nefoedd. Tybiwn y gellir olrhain eu hangeu trwy wahanol dreigliadau darfodadigaeth, anwyd, gwendid, nychdod, a phrudd-der, nes cyrhaed y dechreu mewn cariad siomedig.—Cyf. o Washington Ihving.

BAHDDONIAETH. DYLAN WAD CRIST. Hawddgarol noddi gweriti—a gwyrthiau, Gwrthod myn'd yn frenin Er na feddai'r un fyddin, E dr >ai wiad ar ei liu. Ogwknydd.

LLEW PRYDEINIG. Dianaf Lew Prydeinig—mawr ydyw, Ymarawdwr ffyrnig: Heria dau yn arwr dyg, Mil o anian mileinier. Hyf ei agwedd, anorchfyifol—i bawb, A urwy'r byd yn freiniol Nid oes bod awdurdodol Fedda nerth i'w faedda 'nol. Ar faes y gad ein Hew cadaru—yn llym Llama'n erbyn rhagfarn Y n hoew ei gorph haiarn, A'i ru tel twrw y farn. Calonog mewn celanedd—aruthrol, Yn wrthddrych cynduaredd Dynol gyrph denawl eu gwedd, Iraidd iawn i'w ddur ddauedd. Arwrol yw ar werydd,—ei wych fwng Chwyfia'n y wybrenydd Wele swn ei grochlais sydd, Yn glywadwy i'r gwledydd. Ei fyw drem ddywed fod drwg—i'w elyn, Wele, gwylia'i gilwg Dywala yn dy oIwg, Ar don y indr ddn a mwg. Yn ei ddull llym y byd yma—yn 11 wyr, Y llew a'i gwareiddia HyfawrwiaIenJehofa. ™ w'r 1!ew'u wir ei wella wna.. St. Clears. Cleifox.

ACROSTIC, Cyflwynedig i Mary Jones, merehfechan 1\1r. Mrs Samuel Jones, Glantawe, Ystiadoynlaii Ceir ei henw yn y llytfcyren gyntaf o bobdlinell. Mwy, faban tlws, sirioldeb dardd Ar wyncb teg dy berson hardd 'Rwyt megys lili lwysfawr Ion, Y ti yw pet yr aelwyd gron. I loni aelwyd, pwy fel hon? O, faban tlws, mor iach a lion Nid oes o fewn y byd i gyd Ei liarddach gan holl achau'r byd, Swyn huda bawb, mor lan yw'th brrd. Gan dlvsni mae y ddiwair ferch, Lon, fywiog, yn ymchwyddo serch Adlonach yw ei golwg hardd Na'r lili lanaf yn yr ardd; Tlws blentyn lion, dy lygaid syw A th ruddiau ter y'nt dlysni byw, Wyt megvs rhyw angyies fad, Ei liarduach nid oes vn y wlad. Ystradgynlais. David JoNES,

GOFID. Pa beth yw goiid? Dolur yw, Sydd braidd yn nnnioddefol, Fe rydd i'r dyner galon fri w, A phyla'r gruddiau siriol; Hen was i angeu yJyw hwn, ^S37'n rhwygo'r teimlad dynol, Nes bydd v dyn dan leddfol bwn, Y n gruddfan yn wasta-dol. A hwn i fewn i fwthyn clyd, Fel crwydryn mae'n ymdeithio, A gwna y teulu'n brudd i gyd, Rhydd iddynt achos ewyno Cymyiau welant o bob tu 'n Gorchuddio'u rhagolygon, A'u holl obeithion draw a ffy, Fel hediaid 1 r awelon, Mor welw yw y weddw dlawd, A'u gruddiau'n wlyb gon ddagrau, 'Does gandcti gyfaill, car, lla brawd I ddatgan ei theimladau Y gofid sydd yn gwywo'i gwedd, Ac, 0 fel mae yn wylo Lluddiedig yw ar iin y bedd Am fyned yno'i hmio. Cardotyn tlawd a welaf draw, o dan ei faich yn cwyno, He'o gysgod ganddo rhag y gwlaw, A'r storoni yn ei wawdio Bu gynt yn meddn cartref Hon, Lie canai'n ber alawon, Hcb unrhyw ofid dan ei fron, Yn byw mewn mor o swyuiou. Ond, ha ciliasant hwy i ffwrdd, Daetli yn eu lie ofidiau Y byd a'i groesau ddaeth i'w gwrdd, Fel llewod yn eu nwydau Do, gwelodd golli mam a thad, A cholli ei berth'nasau, Mae'n grwydryn heddyw heb fwynhad, Yn byw ar elusenau. Mae gwdad i'w chael, gwlad hyfryd yw, Nt thflga. gofid ynddi, Gwlad engyl glwys, cartrefle Duw, Gwlad moli enw'r Icsu: Gardotyn tlawd, dyrehafa'th let, Mae Duw yn siwr o'th wraudo, Ac yna cai fyn'd ato Ef, Heb ofid i dy flino. Gland wr. W. Rxa.

AMYNEDD.—(CrDi unDiGOL ) Amynedd pur ha dymmer wynfydedig Anuhraethol yw ei gwerth, rhiu fendigedig Anadlwyd yn y dyn-gan Dduw ei hunan; Dedwyddwch nefol yw ei hanfod purlan Mae naws y nef fel blodau'n perarogli Y galon, geir gan hon, ei lly wodraethu Pwyll yw ei bri, boddlonrwydd ei gorseddfa, Ac heddweh ydvw'r awyr a auadla Rhy gysegredig ydyw hon I Falais nesu ger ei bron Un bwyllog yw,—ei rhiniau megis heulwen Oreura Iwybrau heirdd Athrylith drylen Hyhi a fu yn ufudd lawforwynig Yn dala pwyll fel canwyll i ddychymyg- Pob Milton, Watts, a Rhaphael fu drwy'r oesau Yn swyno'r byd :\u synfawr ddrychfeddvliau A'i bysedu meinion gwelir hi yn agor Cylymau mwyaf dyrus celf a gwyddor, Ni ddaeth i'n byd-a. bytii ni eidaw Un ddyfais dda—oed drwy ei llaw. Heddychol yw, gwell gan amYIodd lawer Yw goddef cam, 11a gwnesthur i»m bob amser; Ei liygad lion a dodda "r feon galitaf, Fel todda'r haul-oer gyfosth g* 711 y pauaf Ei llafar mwyn sy'n dori'r dymni t ft'yllta', m O'i gwydd digofaint megis cysgod_ o r moroedd gwaed clywalitw^J mewn cyil- ddaredd, Am na wrandawsid pwyHog lais aicynedd O na chai hon orseddfa glyd Yn mron llywiawdwyr beiloh ein byd. Un addfwyn yw os daw cymylau siomiant Ac aflwydd i ordduo nwyfre '1 mwyniant, Fel gwyryf dlos, try at ei boa gydymaith, Gorphwysa i phen ar esmwyth fymves gobaith; Eillygaid draidd drwy'r cynxyl fyddÙl gvwjHi Nes canfod addewidion Daw yn pefru N Ni cheir perffeithiach darlun ar y ddaear 0 Dduw u:1'1' dyn cariadus amyneddgar Ac os mor dda amynedd dyn, Beth am amynedd DllW ei huu ? Amynedd Duw mae'r meidrol ddyn yn crynu With edrych ar amynedd Duw'n gwelthstdu, Goddefa Duw am bedwar-ugain nilwydd I bryfyn gwael i herio Hi ddialedd Bendithion dyddiol wlawia er cynaliaeth, By wydau myrdd sy'n gwadu EI fodolaoth I Amynedd Duw ar danau mawl y nefofcwkl, Ei enw a adseinir yn oes oeaoedd. Ond ha tydi'r anfad-ddyn, clyw I Mae terfyn i amynedd Duw t GWYTIOSYÚIi7.

« FE DDALIWYD Y CADNAW O'R D1WEDD." Yn ardal y pentref 'rocJd caduaw un tro Yn gwneuthur ei nosawl wibdeithiau, A buan fa daenwyd y newydd trwy'r fro Fod ffowls wedi myn'd wrth y degau Un dydd penderfynodd pob gwr a pl\()Í,¡ gwrnig Trwy'r ardal i chwilio ei annedd, A chafwyd y lleidr yn llechu mewn craig, "Fe ddaliwyd y cadnaw 0'1' diwedd." 'Roedd Gwilym yn caru merch hynaf Penbano, Ond gwadu wnai ef yn ofaatsau; Un noson aeth cyfaill i wylied y llanc, Er cael y gwirionedd hwn allati Wrth nesu yu ddystaw at dalcen y ty Pwy welai yu siriol eu hagwedd, Ond Gwilym yn caru ei feinIVell fwyn (fu— "Feddafiwydycaduaw o'r diwedd." Daeth bardd mawr i'r golwg yn ardal y Gad, Gan blethu pob math o englynion, A buan ymledoedd ei gynyrch trwy'r wlad, Ar feusydd y Newyddiaduron Ond pan yn fy llyfrgeli, och syndod i'r byd, Mi ddaethum o hyd i beth rhyfedd, Ces afael ar eruddfa'r cvnyrchion i a-yd- Fe ddaliwyd y cadnaw o'r diwedd." 'Roedd Ifan y Dolau yn sefyll o blaid Y dyvfr a'r dirwest yn ffyddlon, >, Areithiai yn ddoniol, dadleuai'n ddibaid, A gwisgai bob dydd y Blue Ribbon; Rhyw noson aetii cyfaill i mewn i'r New Inn, A phwy welai yno yn eistedd, Ond Ifan o'r Dolau yn yfed ei gin — Fe ddaliwyd y cadnaw 0'1' diwedd." addysg — Nid oes dim cuddiedig ar na ddavv yn glir, Na dirgel ar na ddaw i'w cyhoedd Ar sawl sydd yn amheu caitf broli cyn hir, Mae otler yw cuddio gweithredoedd Os llwydda i ddianc rhag sylw y byd, Wrth lechu mewn twylJ ac anwiredd, Mae'r nefoedd yn gwylied nis dianc o hyd— Fe ddelir y cadnaw o'r diwedd." Derwlwyn.

THE CHARGE AGAINST 1 SURGEON AT MERTHYR. At the Merthyr police-court on Saturday, Mr John Evans, surgeon, of Beaufort, again appeared to an adjourned summons, by which lie was charged with making a false certihcate in refer- ence to the death of the late Margaret Jones, wife of the landlord of the Railway Inn, Dowlais. The certiifcate set forth that the defendant had attended the deceased during the illness which resulted in her death, whereas it was not true that he had so attended, although it was the fact that she was seen and prescribed for by Mr Jones, his assistant. Mr J. Plews appeared for Mr Pearson R. Cresswell, of Dowlais, by whom the summons had been taken out; Mr W. Beddoe was for the defendant. The case had been before the court two or three times pre- viously, and it had been adjourned until the present occasion for the purpose of enabling Mr Jones to attend. Mr Jones was now present and put into the witness box, and after having been cautioned by the learned Stipendiary that in answering tha question8 addressed to him he might incriminate himself, he stated, in reply to Mr Beddoe, that he made out the certificate, and that the name and age of the deceased and the first date were not in it when it was signed by Mr Evans. Replying to Mr Plews, he said that the certificate was signed by the defendant at his Dowlais surgery on the 30th of October, and it was agreed between him and Mr Evans at that time that witness wai to get the name and age afterwards.—The Stipen- diary asked the witness whether, knowing that Mr Evans had not seen the woman, he did not think it wrong to put in the certificate a repre- sentation that she was seen by the defendaut on the 28th October ?—Witness I did it in error; I filled it up in a hurry without consideration. This closed the case. The Stipendiary reserved his decision until Monday.

MURDEROUS ASSAULT BY A FATHER. At the Llandilo policc-court-befnre Mr H. Peel and Captain Lewis-oil Saturday, John Williams, mason, Nantgaredig village, wascharged by P.C. Morgan with committing an assault upon his son, W. Williams, who appeared in court bandaged up. It appears that 011 Thursday even- ing the son came home in a state of intoxication, and began quarrelling with his sister. On the mother remonstrating, he pushed her roughly against a settle, whereupon she called to her hus- baDd, who was upstal rs, for assistance. He. on coming down, seized hold of an edged tool used by tilers for cutting and perforating states, and inflicted an incised wound upon the son's head, just above the forehead. The blow was sutti- cieiltly severe to cause the scalp to be penetrated. The nexi morning the father, who is about 60 years of age, was apprehended by P.C. Morgan. He was committed lor trial at tiie assizes, and liberated on bail. On the occasion of a previous quarrel the son broke the fat'.>Rrs arm.

On Monday afternoon, Sir Richard OroM, accompanied by Col. Blackburn, M.P. and L,ifu and Lady Claud Hamilton, opened Beaconsfield Hall, the new Conservative club-house for Bootid. The right hon. (gentleman said he krrew no t.i>wo in England whicti c > "nig s. > r^oidly as tba boruugii f Hootle, n>' <d thQre- J fine a bod,ting for i- :••••»- poiiucikl thought.