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CHA'PTER I.
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CHA'PTER I. Kenneth," Nora said desperately, .is that all you have to say ? Won't you say good-bye to me 1" y The girl's voice, shaken and low, was reu- dercd audible only by an effort of will, a voice that thrilled quite frankly with regret, and went to the heart of the man who listened. He was a silent man with square shoulders and a square-cut jaw, with-a shock of black hair that tumbled heavily over a broad square forehead, and strong dark brows set straight over deep, dark eyes. And he, too, was curiously pale. Would he ever cease to see her as he saw her to-night, the folds of her simple gown of white chiffon floating round her like foam wreaths about a misty room ? Nora looked up at him and instantly away again. But he had caught the almost grieved surprise that lay in her eyes before the curled brown lashes swept downwards again and hid them from him. Was it possible that she did not understand ? I am going home to-morrow," she had told him. My sister Ailie is coming home from school in Germany she is seventeen now, and it is absurd to keep her at school any longer. And I must be at home to welcome her. We have had no one to care for all our lives buti one another. We have been all the world to each other. There has never been anyone, any where She had broken off, conscious, to her own j amazement of an incredible insincerity. If I there were no one anywhere she loved as she loved Ailie, why should the remembrance that to-morrow she mnst leave London—and go home to Ailie—be so poignantly painfnl ? And Kenneth was looking down at her, still silent. Could this be Nora Richmond, this gentle girl, telling him in simple words, falter- ingly and shy, that to-morrow she must leave him, and caring nothing that he should see she grieved because of it. Wonderingly his mem- ory leaped back to the Nora. Richmond the world knew-the Nora Richmond he had seen first, moving among the crowd of London men. all watching one another jealously lest some slight sign of preference should mark one out from the rest, like a little queen among her courtiers. How he had hated them, these London men," whose manners and methods of life had so amazed and shamed his country simplicity. The plaintive strains of a Russian waltz, its peculiar cadences arresting the ear, haunting the memory, floated out from the lighted rooms behind them. Carriages drew up one by one at the edge of the carpeted pavement, and laughing voices came in indistinct fare- wells from below. People were beginning to go. Nora's head rose as she listened, ahd her eyes widened, desperately bright. At any moment she might be missed, tracked, taken back to a basely-deserted Aunt Mabel. Her voice had trembled pitifully, an almost despairing appeal rang in its tones. But Ken. neth-Kenneth who loved her. absorbed in his own battle, was deaf to it. The direct call upon him had restored his self-mastery, given him back his manhood. He could speak, an £ speak calmly, though the dew stood thickly on his forehead and his lips were grey. In its old sense of God be with you I will indeed say good-bye to you," he answered gently. May God be with you always, dear." His voice failed him, the last words were in- audible. Yet Nora heard them, and her heart began to beat hard and fast with intolerable trouble, a sense of loss suddenly unendurable. Suddenly she held out her two hands to him. It was too much. He could do all that might become a man, who could more was none. In a moment Nora was in his arms and the spin- ning world stood still for these two. Oh," she said, hiding her face on Kenneth's arm with a sudden burst of tears. What have I done ?" But nothing could rouse Kenneth from that trance of joy, not even Nora's tears. Dimly he was aware that he was likely to realise—later— just what she had done, but the time was not yet. Blind and dizzy with rapture he bent his head and lightly, reverently, almost wonder- ingly, he dared to lay a kiss on her hairi I don't care," she said hardily. You see I—I knew-and I couldn't—couldn't bear!-O Kenneth, do you think it was fair to me He listened, still opp-essed with a sense of unreality and wonderment, his mind moving slowly under the stress of thronging sensations* No, perhaps it hadn't been quite fair to her, though assuredly that aspect of the case had never presented itself to him before. And so," Nora went on, turning one of the buttons on his coat round and round with trembling fingers, I was determined you shouldn'Wif I could help it. I wouldn't be treated so with an adorable poiit. "Wliieh mattered most, my happiness—or your"pride ? It's very wicked to be proud, Kenneth How sweet they were, the baby airs and graces which a woman, an intelligent woman, cultivated, experienced woman like the woman in his arms, will only stoop to use with one man, the man to whom she has surrenderel everything, even her pride. A little stir behind the open window made itself felt outside, a girl's voice said gaily She was dancing not ten minutes ago!" Nora looked up at the man whom by right of his love for her she had diliberately claimed. We must go back," she said. It is always the woman who sees the serpent in Eden first. They walked down the long room together, Kenneth's eyes wide open and blind, the eyes of a man who sees visions and dreams dreams. Two men glanced curiously at them. Here comes McLeod," said the younger of the two, composing an epic poem to follow his book." Composing Living one I should say," re- joined the other. The younger man looked sharply at them. You don't mean—by Jove. but you're right?" he said, adding with a laugh, Done pretty well for himself, hasn't he ?" and Nora heard him. At the bottom of her handsome staircase, softly banked on either side with pink and white azaleas, stood Lady Mabel Breydon bid- ding farewell to her guests. There was a peculiar sincerity in the farewell she bade Mr McLeod, for she had had time to get just a little tired of him. Good-bye, Mr McLeod. so glad you have had a pleasant evening. You leave for Scotland to-morrow, I think you told me. No Call to-morrow afternoon- about three ? Why, yes, of course you may. I shall be delighted to see you, of course. Bless the man," added her Ladyship to herself, what does he want to come for ?" But no suspicion as to his real reason oc- curred to her, so that there was nothing to soften the shock of Nora's announcement, an announeement made in the cosy privacy of Lady Mabel's own room before they went to bed. A bright fire of wood snapped and crackled, cheerfully invaded the Scented silence, and on a tiny oval table beside it stood Lady Mabel's tea set of eggshell china, and her own little I silver kettle singing and spluttermg over its lamp. She sank into a ready and most inviting lounge with a sigh of utter weariness. •' If s over, thank the Lord, was her pious exclamation. Nora, be a darling and make the tea. I sent Gibson to bed at ten o'clock last night, I hope she went. I told her to come to me at half-past five this morning and it isn't quite that yet. Do you think people enjoyed it 1 I'm sure I don't see how they could—but I hope they did all the same." Oh. they did," annswered Nora wtih con- viction, dropping into her favourite curly chair. It was a lovely party." Well, you seem to have found it so," smil- ing indulgently at the still brilliant face opposite. But I didn't see much of you,' dearie." No," said Nora softly. I—I—Aunt Mabel, I have something to tell you." II Ah," said Aunt Mabel with entire equani- mity. Which of them was it? she wondered. Charlie had the title and Rigsworth the money. One seldom found the two together nowadays, which was a pity. Yes, I—I am going to be married." My dear, of course. When a girl announces -at five o'clock in the morning that she has something to tell you it is always only one thing. I must say I'm glad. It's your second season and there's Ailie to think of. I suppose it's Lionel. Lionel! Mr Rigsworth ?" Isn't it ? Have you really taken the other one ?" Which-#-other one ?" asked Nora blankly.' My dear, who is it ?" demanded Lady Mabel, vague uneasiness dawning in her eyes. Mr McLeod," answered Nora quietly. For moment Lady Mabel's mind was a blank. So completely had she dismissed Ken- neth McLoed from her memory that the very fact of his existence was forgotten. McLeod, she said faintly. Kenneth McLoed, the writing man You are going to marry-Nor&, are you mad No," said Nora, I am quite safoe—and quite decided." Tc-c girl sat up as she spoke, every trace of weariness gone, a light in her eye, a curl to her lip that would have coun- selled caution to a more experienced chaperon. Please don't say any more, Aunt Mabel—be- cause it isn't any use. It's evident you are aware of what I am likely to say," observed Laty Mabel drily, after which she sipped her tea in silence. Shocks of this kind, she felt vaguely, ought in some way, to be prevented from happening at five o'clock in the morning. I—I don't know why you should take things like this," Nora said, and her voice trembled. I have met him constantly not enly in other people's houses—but in yours. You have put nd restriction o.n our friendship. You have treated him always as a friend and an equal, and allowed me to do the same." 11 In short, it's all my fault," finished her ladyship resignedly I suppose it is. But I thought I had a sensible girl to deal with, and not a sentimental idiot who would make an irrevocable, fundamental mistake of this kind. I see exactly what has happened. You have seen him feted and made much of and treated like a little tin god, and you are what the man himself would call' glamoured.' My good child, he may be the lion of this season—he won't be the lion of next. He has known that! He has realised, no ce better, that if be meant to make a good marriage he must make it now. I have no doubt that he hasn't done quite as well as he hoped, but he has certainly done as well as he could. He has had his first taste of—of a land flowing with silk and money, and he means to have more. He has got his foot fairly ixwde-the mansions of the best-and he doesn't mean to be shown out again. I don't blame him, I don't blame you. I don't blame anybody—but myself. I ought to have seen what the man was aiming at. I knew he was as ambitious as the devil-but I credited him with sufficient pride to save him from-from an indecency of this kind." Aunt Mabel, don't! It is so wickedly un- just. It hasn't been him at all. really. He hasn't—he didn't "want-it was my doing—en- tirely." Dear, dear, dear," said Lady Mabel faintly, what are we coming to I hope you don't expect me to believe it," she went on presently, since Nora, sitting with starry eyes and carmine cheeks opposite, said nothing. 11 to meekly accept the complexion it suits him to put upon the matter. Doyou really mean to tell me he doesn't realise w*at it will mean for him to marry the daughter of Sir Francis Richmond, to find himself, by virtue of the fact that he is his wife's husband, master of a place like King's Heath, with a definite standing in the country and a position that no one can afford to ignore. You may be a fool-but he isn't." Nora trembled a little. Lady Mabel was simply a mouthpiece, giv- ing utterance with plainness and vigour to what all the rest of the world, Nora's world, would think. And Kenneth would see that they thought it. Was this what she had done ? But Lady Mabel had not yet exhausted all the weapons in her armoury. She tried a sharper one-appeal. Nora, think better of it, get out of it some- how, anyhow What is the man The son-of a Scotch peasant farmer who worked on his father's farm and ate with his father's labourers this time last year. He has the sense to make no secret of it I will say that for him. Oh, yes, I know he has written a. book, and London has gone a little madder than usual about him, and treated him as though he were a Shakes- peare and Hall Caine, Milton and Meredith all rolled into one. But one book doesn't make a reputation, any more than one swallow makes a summer. And you are going to marry him- on no better foundation than that Nora, my dear, it is social suicide. Think better of it! Get out of it! I will manage the whole thing if you like and make the man hear reason. He will understand—and release you. And if he won't But. Aunt Mabel, I don't want to be re- leased. I love him Love Aunt Mabel dropped back into her chair with a sort of sick scorn. What is love ? A six months' madness We are talking about marriage—which i3 a very different thing. And I am reduced to pleading with you not to 'perpetrate one that will be the maddest pieces Aunt Mabel, don't! Tfc is so wickedly unjust." ot folly that ever came within my ken. If you had a father to fall back upon T shouldn't appeal to you, my dear, I should go to him. It takes a man to deal With ^tensions of tlfla kind. But poor Francis I don't know--or rather I do know—what he is likely to think but whatever he thinks he can't say anything." Don't, Aunt Mabel," said Nora again. For there was something terrible, almost revolting, to the girl's mind in this blunt reference to the tragedy awaiting her en she should go home to-morrow, the traa-edy of a living soul shut dumb and helpless within the tomb of its own body. Under the stress of that dread and brooding presence in the house, even Nora's splendid health had shown signs of breakdown. It was then that old Dr. Melville had &ent her to her Aunt Mabel's for change of scene, for a few weeks' reet from the obsession of the one imperative idea of that dreadful, still figure that yet was her father lying in the silent, sunny room in which he had lost. one by one, all the links that connected him with his fellow- men. One little month. How much could happen in a month. In four short weeks Nora had met and chosen the man who should walk with her through life, though all the world combined to forbid it. 11 Auntie," she said steadily, 11 if you please, do not say any more. Indeed, indeed, it isn't any use." You are quite determined ?' I am quite determined." Even though I tell you that you will repent it from the bottom of your heart before the year is out." But the girl faced her, all aglow. Repent," she said, softly. I shall never repent. It isn't so much what he is to me. it is what he is in himself that makes me so sure—" But Aunt Mabel bad still an arrow left—and that, the sharpest of all. Then," she returned quietly, there is one more possibility that I must put before you. If things are indeed as you arepr barefaced enough, my dear, to represent tnem, if this disastrous culmination to a month's acquaint- ance is really more due to him than to you than to him, even if you don't repent—he may. Men are kittle cattle, Nora, and a proud man is- the kittlfest of them all." Nora's breath caught, for the thrust was deadly, and already she had felt something of the thorns and briars strewn thick along the way she would have Kenneth McLeod trend- for her sake. Suppose he should repent! Des- perately she put the suggestion from her. He won't." she said passionately, for he loves me. And I will be so true and so tender a wife to him. I will make him so happy- "My dear," interrupted Aunt Mabel gravely, happiness is Heaven's best and rarest srift. Pi Who are you-that you should promise it!" CHAPTER n. Nora went home the next day without hav- ing seen Kenneth again. But she had a letter from him-a letter that brought a light to her eyes and a lump in her throat every time she thought of it. I caifoot sleep," he wrote, I can only wonder. ""ojLm I that "I should be so blest Aly! If you knew how I have worshipped you, my lady of the stars, how I will worship you for ever Words !-what words are there in which to tell you what is in my heart for you ? How can I even ai tempt jts expression, but by dedicating every thought I have, every facility I possess, every day I live every breath I draw to your sweet service." Why should he take it like that!" Nora asked herself, aware of melting tenderness, and justifiable irritation in oddest juxtaposition in her heart. Doesn't he understand that I am proud to marry him ?" But if he could not see it others should. Already poor, obsre, utterly without. influ- ence as he was, he had written a book that by its sheer power and truth had moved the world. She knew something of the difficulties under which his task had been accomplished, some. thing of the obstacles in the way of his achieve- ment, which he had surmounted one by one. Now there should be po more obstacles. It was her happy lot to smooth his path before him. A year or two and the wisdom of her choice, independent and unconventional as it was, would surely and indeed be justified. Even Gvvynne-- Nora dropped hack on the railway carriage cushion, paling curiously. She ha.,1 forgotten Gwynne. She wrenched her thoughts into another channel. She would not think about him, she would not. She would thing of noth- ing and no one for the present hut Ailie. In the golden stillness of the June afternoon Ailie came. It was a year—a whole year since the sisters had parted,land Nora stood dumb with amazement at the change that year had wrought. Ailie had left her a year ago an awkward overgrown girl, painfully conscious of her hands and feet, and miserably aware of the deficiencies of her fhrore. She came back a woman, athough too slender, perhaps still but a thing gracious of cufves and most harmonious movements. Nora held her an4 studied this new sister with a kind ofdelighterldismary. "Oh Ailie, how pretty-how pretty you have grown!" she said. Ailic laughed and flashed a lovely pink. Have 11" she answered. I hoped you would think so, but I wasn't sure." Not sure, you darling!" cried Nora, kissing her with a kind of rapture, and then Ailie fluntc her hat on the grass and took off her grey jacket, and in her simple white muslin blouse locked prettier than ever. I shall want everything new, Nora," she said. Just look where my skirt is—I must have,own inches. Do you think I'm too tall?" No," with conviction I think you are perfectly lovely! But, dearest "—pausing with the teapot suspended in her hand—" you look terribly delicate." "w, I suppose I am," in unaffected enjoy- ment of that interesting fact. The doctor says I want care. I have a nasty little cough, and-" Oh, Ailie," Don't be a goose, Nora!" laughed the girl easily. I don't think there is much the raatter. It's only because I'm so fair." Ailie caught the anxious, adoring eyes of Nora opposite, and laughed again. It's nothing but my absurd complexion," she assured her. And even if it were-a little more than that it wouldn't matter now, Nora. I'm home again-for good. Ob! how lovely it is to remember it!" But, darling, if you really have a cough you must stay at home in the winter, Ailie. We will go abroad—go together, my dearest; somewhere where it is sunny and dry and I)eAutifQj. It sounds lovely," Ailie said softly. We won't ask anybody-no even Aunt Mabel. We will go alone together—just our two selves." She broke off. something in Nora's changing face arrested her happy planning. What is it ? she asked, and the colour swept up to Nora's hair in a carmine flood. Ailie, she said, I—I can't. I am going to be married." Ailie sank back in her garden chair, her pretty plaintive mouth dropping softly open, her eyes widening slowly but surely into woe. Married! You!" she said faintly:. Poor Ncra. The blush died swiftly down and left her very pale, and something of the woe in Ailie's eyes was suddenly reflected in her own. Here was nothing but Aunt Mabel's dismay and disapproval in a different and an even worse form, for limpid tears were forming on Ailie's lashes and rolling softly over them one by one. Married!" she said again. You!" Nora threw herself on her knees by her sister's side and took her hands and fondled them. How chill they were, and how un- responsive. Ailie, darling," she said. Jt shan't make any difference—indeed—indeed it shan't." Oh!" returned Ailie, with a touch of im- patience, dont!" It must make a difference —it has already." CHAPTER III. But by and bye something in Nora's face awoke a vague compunction, and cleared the moral atmosphere—just a little. I-I suppose I'm very selfish. she said resignedly, but I can't help it if I am. When one looks forward—for years, to one thing—and then loses it just when one thinks it has come." Oh, darling," said Nora in bitter self-re- proach. Of course," Ailie went on. her moral fogs lifting just a little more. you have a perfect riglt to marry—if you choose—but I can't pre- tend to like it, because I don't, I daresay I was very silly to think it would go on always -just us two loving one another-like we have done." Ailie," said Nora, stung into self-defence, it might have been you. If it had been, you wouldn't have expected me to break my heart about it! I thought you would be glad!" "Glad," echoed Ailie, wide-eyed *nd won-ier- ing. Me Nora 8 brows drew together in a quick rrown Had it really been so ridiculous as Ailie's tone implied to expect her to be glad ? < You—you don't ask who it is," she said presently, while Ailie sat and nursed her woe. I-I suppose its Gwynne Gaythorne." Nora drew sharply away. Gwynne! What should make you think that ?" she asked, Oh, only because everybody thinks so. Isn't it Nora ? Why—who else ?" He is a Scotchman, Ailie, his name is MeLeod I" her lips spoke daintily, for no other name ever was or ever could be quite like it. He comes from Inverness, quite in the north. I met him in London." Oh," said Ailie. And he is an author. He has written a book, a wonderful book, that all the world is talking about." Where is he now, Nora ?" Ailie said plain- tively, looking half-apprehensively round. He is in London." Ailie brought her gaze back from the long vistas of the garden, where the Madonna lilies stood in sheaves and rambler roses, trained on arches, looped the bloe with crimson, and rested it on the top of Nora's brown head. When shall I see him ?" she asked. Very soon. He is coming down—in about a week. Then he is going to London again." To stay there ?" eagerly. Until we are-married. He won t stay there all the time. He will come backwards and forwards, of course." And—afterwards! When you are married. Whore will he stay then f" He will stay-here." Here. Do you man he win live here ?" Nora took her hand from her sister's knee and the smouldering fire, in her heart lit a spark in her eyes. Ailie," she said gently, where else should Ihe live t I cannot leave home for good—with father as he is! And when he dies—this house will be my hoifte. I should want to live here, however many houses Kenneth has of his own. It is.tbat that makes me glad he hasn't any!" Oh," said Ailie, with a sudden sob, I wish I was dead." Nora stood up. Ailie," she said passionately, I wouldn't have believed you could have been so cruel." There I" said Ailie, standing up too, and throwing herself into her sister's arms. Now we have qnarrelled. And it's the very first time in all our lives. Didn't I know, couldn't I see what would come!" But," said Norn, justice restraining her, It isn't his fault." It must be, because if it hadn't been for him it would never have happened I" which piece of feminine logic was altogether too mnch for Nora. Dearest," she said, holding her sister close, the,, little sister that was now taller than herself," we must not quarrel about it, we won't! No one shalt come between us, not even Kenneth." They were both crying now. Nora recovered herself first, for suddenly the whole situation struck her as overstrained and slightly ridiculous. Ailie, be good," she said, giving her a little shake. Gwynne is coming to dinner, and I shall be such a sight." In the tragic moments of life blessed indeed is the intrusion of the cortimOn-place. And in his big lonely barrack of a house a mile and a half away. Gwynne was giving to his evening toilet an amount of consideration and care rare even in a good-looking bachelor of thirty-and-flve. It was not that he was dinning out, the master of Uplands could have dinned out every evening in the week had he been so disposed, but the fact that he was dining with Nora. It was six weeks since he had seen her, too, because he had been away on business when Nora had left King's Heath for London or, he told himself, his lips harden- ing a little, she should never have gone. When once she was safely his wife she should go where she choose. But she must he safely his wife fipst. Until that most desirable con- summation was reached, the fewet opportun- ities Miss Richmond had of making wider ac- quaintance with the world the better for his peace of mind. But after all, he had only been away a month. Not much can happen in a month, he told himself, forgetting for a moment jnst how fast life had moved for him when be wpgl twenty. And to-night! Well, to-night he would have an opportunity such as he had never bad before of bringing to a definite point those plans of which Nora, must, in her own mind, have long been aware. For it was not only that he was dinning with her, he was din- ning with her for the first time alone. Or practically alone. Ailie, of course, would be there, but Ailie was a child, and he would surely be able somehow to eliminate her as a factor in the situation. For to-night Nora should listen. Once or twice before he had tried to say what he had to say, and she had foiled his intention, escaped his spoken words so adroitly, that her very coyness had deep- ened his determination and fanned his love. To-night she should elude him no longer. She must marry me," he told himself, un- able to believe that the very force of his desire should not bring about its fulfilment, and afterwards I will love her so truly, cherish her so tenderly that she shall love me-whether she will or no," (To be Continued.)
QUESTS OF LORD TREBEGAR
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QUESTS OF LORD TREBEGAR Cardiff Cymmrodorion's Visit. I thank you, ladies and gentlemen—diolch i chwi." So was Lord Tedegar's responsive shout opposite his ancient home at Tredegar Park on Saturday evening to the united cheer of over 600 Cymmrodorion, who had hemmed him in a circle just before parting. His Lord- ship had invited the Cardiff Cymmrodorion to a garden party, and for four hours he had moved among them, talking and laughing as jovial and happy as the youngest. It was an ideal afternoon. The sun, it is true, did not appear, and it was dark and a little heavy. But these conditions fitted ad- mirably the old-world scene. A special train conveyed the guests from Cardiff, Llanishen, and Caerphilly at 2.20. They were, owing to delays and breakdowns, about an hour later arriving at Bassaleg than the time arranged. The beautiful old church by the station had" been thrown open, and the memorials inside and out were inspected. What attracted most attention was* the family pew, where the veteran soldier of Tredegar Park worshipped, and it was said that he walked the intervening mile to church, missing hardly any Sunday. The family grave, with a cross of simple design, where rests Lord Tredegar's father, was also a spot of much interest. The Reception.. Lord Tredegar shook hands with every body. He hadexpressed a wish that everything should be as free and informal as possible, and during the afternoon every nook and corner of the grounds and the house were inspected. The paintings of some of the more notable members of the Morgan family excited great interest, while outside the mansion the monument of Sir Briggs, the famous charger on whose back his Lordship rode in the charge of the Six Hundred, and the broken monumental column of the pet dog Peeps were visited by everybody. During part of the afternoon Lord Tredegar was accompanied by Mrs Forestier-Walker, who was imjneaiately recognised as the beautiful Nest of the Welsh Pageant. Refreshments were served on the lawn, and a feature of the event were thd Welsh airs. also strongly remin- iscent of the Pageant, which the band played. Among the Throng. Among the throng were tho chief. Welsh people of Cardiff and district, and it would be invidious to mention any. In ordinary life they were merchant princes at the docks, J.P.'s by the dozen, two Stipendiary magistrates, landed geitry—and, not less honoured, labourers and coal trimmers. The station of life was forgotten everybody was a brother Cymmrodor. The man getting his thousand a year and more shook hands heartily with his struggling brother-Celt battling^daily to make both ends meet. Bards there were by the dozen. It was, indeed, a bardic festival. Weren't they of the same line as the great Ap Gwilym ? Andihey did not come without tnbute. Some made their verses oh the spot, others on the way. One distinguished Cardiff public man had lost the muse—or, rather, the muse had deserted him. have to go under the train to get it squeezed out to-dAy." he said, and dreading the result of that contingency he gave up the attempt. Ap Rhydderch, tall and bearded, fired his testimony in an extempore englyn :— Por Tredegar yw car cu—y beirddion A byw urddas Cymru Gwron mae pawb yn garu, o hwyliau liawn, Hywel y llu. In ordinary life, Ap Rhydderch is the respected Mr Daniel Owen, of Splotlands.
MAESTEG REVOLVER TRA6EDY<
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MAESTEG REVOLVER TRA6EDY< At Bridgend on Saturday Mr T. J. solicitor, applied for the discharge of CU» Evans, colliery pay clerk, and William^ miner, who had been remanded charged » the manslaughter of Benjamin Edwar miner, by shooting him with a revo j £ r Nantyffyllon on Saturday, the 3rd ygfi Hughes explained that the coroner's JurZjcnU found that the tragedy was a pure aC^_dict« and the coroner had concurred in that He understood that as the result of the i»q Superintendent W. Davies did not P offer any evidence against the defen Superintendent Davies said that was s°" jggir^ the permission of the magistrates he not to oflter any evidence. Mr Hugne-f, that on behalf of the defendants he at tb* express their deep and lasting sorrohe ao* terrible occurrence. The widow of as gfi fortunate man fully agreed that it accident. The defendants had paid tne of the funeral expenses. The discharged. ———————————
RAGGING BY TERRITORIALS-
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RAGGING BY TERRITORIALS- The resignation of a lieutenant of torial battalion announced on headquarters at Leicester was the ]yti»" an unseemly ragging incidcntm the N^ JJ^. land i :rigacle <-amp recently held at U' 4(| The lieutenant was awakened in the ( night l>y several !>u -kets of water beins tJ, ova him, and g >ing to the tent entraiv whafrwas the matter he waa seized ivnior officers and carried to the office r v<-«» where, however, further in hgp tJ" iiff red him. The lieutenant left the t ø.per fore its close, and has sin- e sent in bis P
--'-WOMAN AND BROKERS.
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WOMAN AND BROKERS. A well-dressed woman from Baling, who ap- peared greatly distressed, aprticd to the Brent- ford magistrates on Saturday for advice in reference to the conduct of a broker. She owed a little rent, and in her absence from home the broker, she said, arrived and cleared out every article of furniture, many times the value of the rent. It took them six hours to load the goods and what they did not take they destroyed, tearing down the blinds and smashing up the crockery. The magistrate advised a siimmors for excessive distraint, and remitted the fee to the applicant. The Chair- man added that an effort ought to be made to prevent the sate of the goods.
----------PONTYPOOL MAN AND…
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PONTYPOOL MAN AND Hlfr WIFE. The Pontypool Bench on Saturday resumed the hearing of a case in which John Sullivan, collier, of Pontypool, was summoned by his wife, Mary Sullivan. who applied for a separa- tion order on the grounds of persistent cruelty and neglect. The case had been adjourned from a previous court for the attendance of the local priest and Dr. Haslett to give evidence. Mr W. J. Everett, who was for the coxqplainant, explained that Dr. Haslett had an important engagement elsewhere, whilst Father Degen ha!d a marriage to attend. The Clerk (Mr A. E. Bowen) This was one of his marriages, too, you know. (Laughter.) Mr Everett said that all efforts made by him- self and Father Dcgen, as well as Mr T. P. H. Watkins, the solicitor on the other side, to effect a settlement of the case had been of no avail. He did not think that the evidence of those gentleman would throw any material light on the case. and he asked their Worships for their opinion, having regard to the evidence already tendered at the previous court. The Bench decided that they were not justi- fied on the eviden(-e,aii-eady given in granting the order asked for. 1
I The Metamorphosis of a Toy…
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I The Metamorphosis of a Toy Soldier. A STORY OF THE MOSCOW REVOLT. By GERTRUDE DIX. I. I' The house of General Kaulbars has immensely high plate glass windows, framed in long draperies, whose massive crimson folds reached from the gildtd cornice to the parquet floor. In the dining-room the windows overlooked a wide square there were several large mirrors and as young Kalatine walked in with his spurs jingling on his small, smart boots, he caugnt more than one reflection of himself-dapper and gay in his new uniform. He saluted his uncle, the General. Ah I" exclaimed the General. I wafi thinking of you, Fed or. Have you been at the Gedeonovskys lately I am often there," Kalatine blushed and hastily went on to explain. You see, sir, now Michael is invalided-" But his un- le noticed neither the blush nor the explanation. He wheeled round from the buffet, covered with brl" fast dishes, a liqueur gliss in his hand. ADU what do you think of gins Ivanovich-?" he broke in. i^ataline was startled. It was enough for him that Sergius Ivanovich Gedeonoysky was the father of Michael and Natalie—more especially of Natalie, and therefore everything that was excellent. He is no doubt a learned savant—a great scientist," he ventured. Bah I" The General spluttered like a uni- formed pig in a passion, his face as pink as that of a clean porker of the blonde variety. So you, too, are taken in I -y tihat laboratory." Taken ia exclaimed KalJ i ie. But assuredly-" Assuredly, Vedor, Sergius Ivanovich is one of those cursed underground intellectuals. Worse than that! He is first, cousin to and in intimat relations with that Jew Seminoff." Kalatine was astounded. Impossible he ejaculated. But, my dear uncle—such a charming family Michael is my comrade, and Madame Gedeonovsky-" That lady is an angel—a suffering martyr, Fedor interrupted the General piously. Yes, indeed returned Kalatine. He had never considered the plump Varvara Dmitrievna in that light before, but as the mother of Natalie, she was at any rate very wonderful. He found it almost impossible to associate his friends with such a revolutionary fire-brand. He is not in Moscow, though." Y Fedor. he is in Moscow. That is why it behoves us, as friends of the Gedenovskys, to be on our guard. The General returned to the buffet and im- mersed himself noisily in a plate of borsch. Kalatine began to recover from the astounding piece of information. After all, it did not so very much matter. For Moscow was at peace again. The Czar's proclamation had been re- ceived with enthusiasm. Ah, yes, those abomin- able strikes those revolutionary confticts were all at an end thanks to the Imperial Rescript. Kalatine experienced an immense relief. He had had enough -of charges on the crowd. He wrated life to go on again with the pleasant routine of the gay Muscovite military circle, with its balls and dinner parties. And now, too, he wanted something else. He wanted to go often to the Gedeonovskys, the liveliest and freest household of young people he knew. He wanted to see a great deal of Michael, of course, but he wanted to see more of his sister Natalie, and to dance and to skate-yes, and to sledge with her, under the fur robes of the troika. The General wiped his long, cream-coloured moustache, twisting it in his napkin. It is a breathing space," he muttered. "I Prevention is better than cure. There is going to be a great weeding-out of Seminoffs." This absurd obsession of his uncle's was dis- turbing to Kalatine. 11 But surely," he said, the people—" Tile people are mad dags. His Majesty has thrown them a bone, but it will not be enough. No, if he cut himself into pieces if he sacri. ficed us all, they would not be satisfied. My dear Fedor," he threw down hisuapkin and came toward him. I had a purpose in telling you about Seminoff. When you go to the villa keep your eyes open. Play the spy if need be for the sake of that Jtngelic woman—and the young people." There were sc-andal-mongers in Moscow who said that the General was too deeply interested in Madame Gedeonovsky, but young Kalatine, in his youthful egotism paid little attention to anything but his own affairs. As Moscow re- mained peaceable, he chose to believe that the General was mistaken in more ways than one. Whenever he was off duty he would ride out to the suburbs where the Gedeonovskys' house stood in a leafy garden, on his new horse. It seemed impossible. that the father of Natalie could be anything but above suspicion. If he had the misfortune to be related to the in- famous Seminoff that was not his fault. He did not believe hb was a revolutionary at all. No, he was a very learned savant, and the secreta of his laboratory were the quite harmless on of the seeker after truth. As to Madame Ged- eonovsky—Varvara Dmitrievna belonged to the last categ6ry. and nothing could exceed her loyalty unless it were her disgust at the disloca- tion of social life occasioned by the disturbances. She dressed her pages like miniature Cossacks, and desired all her sou3 to become soldiers. Kalatine thought her extraordinary, for she was a Petersburg Parisiafc with whom it was meme tres chic to speak French well and Ger- man badly, and to keep an English, governess for the children Even in the darkest days of civic strife in Moscow the spirits of the youthful Gedeonov- skys never suffered depression. It was plea- santer to play with them than to try to talk to Michael, who, since he had been invalided from Port Arthur, nursed his wounds in a soured and embittered astonishment at his country's misfortunes which Kalatine could not in the least understand. "Once when he had tried to joke with him Michael bad broken out with a morose sneer, that he was an ignoramus, and nothing but a toy soldier. Kalatine had felt, at the time, that this was bitterly unjust sin-e he had that very mornin? cracked the skull of a declamatory student with the butt-end of his revolver. Yet, for the sake of an occasional glimpse of Natalie, he would have borne all the sneers the sophisticated Michael could inflict. Ty But one morning when Kalatins had not called for some days there was a Change, and he entered a house that seemed empty and silent. Little Vanya, the pet of the hov-M-iold. Was playing by hivase" -nd climbed Kal t ne's knee. But Kalatine was disturbed w. t,h the idea that Natalie might have disappeared also, when the governess came in to tell him jthat Madame would receive him in her boudoir. Upstairs, Natalie's soft ejfes, lifted for a mo. ment fro her embroidery frame, so ove- oyed him that his salutations to the other pe -,ons in the room were almost mechanical. it took him some moments to perceive that something had happened, and that his beaminsr smiles were out of place. As Varvara Draitrievna, reclining gracefully on her pillows inhaled her smelling salts, traces of powder were visible about her eyes, and it was plain to see that she bad been weeping. The General, leaning over her couch, had the air of the spectator of a martyrdom, alternately fierce and compas- sionate. Ah, Fedor," said the lady, raising her blue eyes. pity us We are exiled." Exiled echoed Kalatine in alarm. Yes, is it not cruel ? Sergius Ivanovich— she uttered the name of her husband with a shrill note of indignation—" insists on sending us to Sinkoya." Sinkoya was the Gedeonovskys' country estate. Oh. is that all y" cried Kalatine with relief. Is that all! You little understand my feel. ings. Don't you know. Fedor, how I detest the country. How would you like it ?" Oh, I should like it very well with you, Varvara Dmif rievna," said Kataline; thinking of Natalie, but why Oh. he de-lores Moscow is unsafe for us any longer." It was true that disturbances had betun again and that there had been one or two serious conflicts with the people and the mili- tary. The authorities, however, believed them- selves to have the situation Well In hand. Surely there is no danger in the suburbs t't exclaimed Kalatine, appealing to his uncle. Ask Sergius Ivanovich," muttered the I General. He has perhaps iiiformation of I which we know nothing." But the dance I" said Kalatine, breaking ¡ an awkward silence, and looking at Natalie, who had never raised her bead from her work, Some of th« most intrepid military ladies. among whom was Madame Gedeonovsky, had organised a ball in honour of the Imperial Manifesto. We stay for that!" she replied.- I insisted. To-night at least—let us eat and drink, for to-morrow wh die- of ennui." | Kalatine crossed to where Natalie was sitting by the window, but still she did not glance at him. He was wondering whether he dared ask for a dance, when the door opened to admit the master of the house. He bowed, with an air of preoccupation, to the two visitors, and went to his wife. •4 I wish to know your arrangements for the day," he said. As the servants arc gone we must hire carriages." I'm going to lunch at the Von Rosens'. Natalie must meet me there, so that we can go to the dance together. You will have to bring- her." And you return Do not trouble yourself about that, Sersrius I Ivanovich," said the 1, almost in- solently, Varvara Ditrievan3. will be well escorted." Kalatine had been absorbed in NatAlie, but now it dawned upon him that these three were all hatin-c eaf-h other. He understood this, strangely enough, less from his observation of them, than from the movements of Natalie's trembling fingers, her laboured stitches, and the heavy flush whi'h had crept from her downcast face to the nape of her white neck. Then suddenly she looked up—not at hm, nor at anyone in the room, but at something be- yond the window. Some alternation was going on at the front door.A tarantass, covered with mud, had drawn up there, and a heavy figure dressed in sheepskins was slowly descending from it. "Ha!"8aid the General, whose suspicions were easily roused, what is it ?" While everyone in the room was listening to the dispute between a servant and the driver the tarantass, Gedeonovsky went softly out The General's eyes started almost from their sockets. Who is that ?" he demanded, step- ping to the window, who is that- Natalie seemed anxious to explain. Only a peasant" she said, her eyes falterng under his brutal gaze, one of our moujiks from Sinkoya." I. The General took a long stare at the figure in the sheepskins, and then took leave of I Madame Gedeonovsky bidding Kalatine accom- pany him. Nothing was to be seen of the mysterious moujik as they entered the hall, and the tarantass had driven away. Outside, where the vehicle had topped, the mud was very soft and the General stepped carefully and' before he mounted his horse, bent a little to e^ i mine some footmarks. To Kalatine they were footmarks and nothing more, but in times of great social stress, certain embryo- nic things have unexpected developments, and the General's brain waq one of them. They were just heavy peasant's boots, uncle, said Kalatine as they rode out of the gate. But small feet, and lifted clear from the ground every time. Is that how a peasant walks ?" he snarled. Nephew the man inside those boots was Seminoff Impossible This word with which Kalatine frequently met and brushed aside things tire- some pnd unpleasant, rose to Kala tine's lips, but did not pass them. The truth—a stagger- ing truth—forced him to silence. There was some indefinable danger ahead. He wished that Natalie was safe at Sinkoya. The whole atmosphere had been tense and expectant. A storm was brewing, and the General, in some way was the Olympic Jove of it—the master of lightnings and thunderbolts. What was he going to do T Would he inform against Ged- enovysky ? Their ways parted, and he rode to 1 he barracks too engrossed to notice the grow- ing signs of excitement in the streets. At the villa the moujik had humbly fol- lowed the master of the house to his own suite of rooms. Behind the locked doors of the laboratory, full of fine electrical instruments, a suit of sheepskins and all the paraphernalia. of a thorough disguise were thrown into a chair, and a little, slim man, with bird-like movements, placed a pair of spectacles on his nose and opened to Gedenovesky a mass of documents and papers which he had worn amongst his padding. For nearly an hour the two cousins pored over the cryptic writing with now and again an understanding com- ment or brief interrogation. As they turned the last page the sound of wheels was heard on the drive crtttside, and the little man cau- tiously lifted the curtain that Veiled a small, transparent pane in the ground-glass windows. "But I thought Varvara Dmitrievna was gone!" he exclaimed, at a glimpse of a bonnet in a carriage window. She leaves to-morrow with Natalie, Vanya, and Miss Ridley. Michael will ac- company them." Not later, Ivan, not later!" cried Seminoff, with an imperative gli fcter in his bright eyes. I have told you. The fire is very hot again, and directly 4he pot simmers it will boil over. In three days—before, if anything should hap- pen to precipitate matters—Moscow will again be isolated. Yes, our little friends the tele- graph wires—" he nodded to the back of the house, where as his nearer knew. the wires ran towards St. Petersburg—" they will be all cut but one." Which one ?" The private wire from the Governor's house." And that you intend to tap ?" Exactly, my dear Ivan. You see the facili- ties here are unique. Besides, mon brave, it affords me some occupation. Moscow is too hot for me." But the pot had begun to simmer already. By the time Madame Gedeonovsky reached the centre of the city the streets were full of people; the workmen were pouring out of the factories and she found her friends in a state of indecision as to whether they should not leave while the trains on the Moscow- Kazan railway wwr stitjt "r<antiht&. Moscow was already in the throes of another revolt. A Constitution plus military rule lite-ties of speech and opinion which only existed on paper, and were vetoed by the authorities as soon as they took visible shape had become an insupportable farce. Troops were being hastily posted in all parts of the city with orders to fire ball cartridge at the slightest de- monstration. But almost as quickly and with as perfect an organisation the mob surged like a black flood in the main squares and streets. In the late afternoon drinll begtlll. Crowds of worknsn, headed by students, seized the tramcars, and proceeded to erect barricades at street corners, filling the cars with benches. Near the armourers' shops, where the crowd had begun to pillage, other barricades were thrown up, composed of telegraph poles, paving-stones and wire entanglements. Kalatine had been ordered on guard in the Kremlin quarter, where the barracks and an- cient buildings were in danger from incendiaries But to-night, in the shadow of palace, cathe- dral, and citadel, all was quiet, and as he sat his horse hour after hour, he would gladly have exchanged his position for the heart of the up- roar. His meditations were tinged with a cynicism engendered by natural disappoint- ment. What did those ingrates of people want anyhow t Hadn't they got their.Con- stitution t Why couldn't they be peaceable and reap the benefits of civilisation For him those benefits summed themselves up in the thought of the ball. As the bells tolled mid- night an orderly appeared with orders. Kala-l tine and his little force clattered down the hil towards the noise and glare. There were no deeds of process for Kalatine nothing but the attempt to hold a certain posi- tion with the handful of dragoons he had re- inforced against the furious mob. In a moment's respite he saw a pale student mount the barricade to harangue the soldiers. A girl took his place with a more ftfvid appeal. She was young, with dark eyes and hair like Natalie's and Kalatine groaned as she fell shtt in the breast. Then he could think of nothing but his own defence as the angry Workmen swarmed round his horse, cutting him off from his companions. He waa pulled from his saddle. As he rose to his feet, a clumsy flguure threw himsell on him to disarm him. Kalatine fought like a wild-cat in the grip of a bear. Again thrown to the ground he wriggled dodging the blows. Then the great arc-lights spluttered an4 went out. and in black darkness he rolled over out of his range Battered and bruised, he managed to crawl out of the melee, and sat down against a wall to recover himself. In the darkness that had fal- len on Moscow horror seemed to redouble it- self. Torches flared as if by magic, and men began to set fire to houses that they have light to murder each other. In the awful light of flames, with the streams of women ringing in his ears, Kalatine darted down an alley into a side street, and ran and ran till the cries and shouting were lost in a faint indistinguishable roar. He stopped to take breath. He, a soldier, had run away in sheer cowardice. And he didn't intend 'to go back. He had liked his soldiering very well up to now, but when it came to killing work- men and students and young women f The houses in front of him were sillhouetted against a new glow in the sky. He must find out the whereabouts of Natalie and her mother. Locating his position from a figure prowling in an archway, he soon made his way to the house at which he had vaguely under- stood Madame had intended to dine. The door of the vestibule was open there was no concierge, but as he hesitated in the darkness a young man appeared upon the stairs, at- tended by a servant with a light. It was Michael. Michael t" he exclaimed with relief. Where are they t" Michael recoiled a little on the bottom stair. There is blood on your face, Fedor," he said. The sight of blood poured out in rivers in the East, far from inuring him, had made him hysterically sensitive to a, scratch. "Kalatine wiped it off, with some satisfaction that he had fought before he had run away. Well, where are they ?" The servant says mamma is at the General's." But Natalie 1" She is at home. She was to have come la and of course Kalatine uttered a sharp (exclamation of dis- may. Michael," he said Seminoff is at the villa, and by this time the authorities know of it. He arrived tbis morning, disguised as a moujik. My unrlo insisted it was Seminoff .And —you never know what mischief may have been brewing." My/ather. your uncle, Seminoff There is bound to be trouble ahead faid Michael fiercely and bitterly. They walked rapidly down the street and hailed a passing droschky. After a detour which seemed endless, they found thewselves in the suburb. Kalatine drew a breath of relief. Everything in the quiet houses seemed so peacefully and normally asleep. The next moment the galloping of I horses broke the stillness. With a diun^en shout, three Cossacks passed th6m, "idlng furiously toward; Moscow. Michael, nervous as it woman, grip; ed his hand, and he shouted I) to the driver to go faster. III. At the (ri d 'iinot'sky villa everything was dark and still. j You see it is all tight They are all asleep." j said Michael as the;; went up the drive. ¡ Kal/t l inc halted. LiaU-u," he cried, what's that ?" > I -L. Behind thft closed windows someone was playing a mazurka. Of course, it is all right," said Michael, going on again. He took out his latch key. Kalatinc pushed on and in. The door is open," he said. The hall was in perfect darkness. Not even the usual glimmer 01 gas was burning. Michael would have blamed the servants ior their care- lessness, but he remembered there were no servants. Kalatine was listening t) the violin upstairs. It is that Miss Ridley muttered Michael with racial irritability. Natalie must be asleep." Asleep with that No one could sleep with that rried Kalatine softly. They stood still, listening against taeir wills to the peculiar, lilting cry of the strange dance measure. It was a d'in..e that seemed to call irresistibly to the feet—yet not a dance tor the floor that shi m mers under joyous»iight—rather a dance of sor- row a of death. It was played in per- I fect time, till there was a bait, almost a stop then the music went on again, making an endless repeat, with always that hint of a pause, and the mad, nervous swing back into I the rhythm. I'll put a stop to tha.t!" said Michael angrily under his breath. Kalatine followed him to the upper landing, where a beam of light fell from a partially opened door. J ust wÜhin, as though her feet had been turned to stone as she va" running out. the governess stood bow- ing her violin like a mechanii al figure. Her dilated eyes, in a face white a3 hatk, did not see them. She did not heartbem ask for Natalie till Kalatine seized her arm. At her s. ream. they'll kill me if I atop playing," Mi; had turned and ran from the room. At the • n l of a corridor. Kalatine pausing on the threshold saw in the e of a makh a little, smooth bed, with a flimsy ball dress thrown a-JOSS a of shoes, a fan. The music was on again as they ran down into the hall. Kalatine could have stonped his ea's. From the dining room, on the left of the hall, opened the suite of room?; t!ovoted to GefU on o'^sky. A lamp was bum'>u.x over the stupoe table. The plates an 1 dishes had n')1. touched, but were .dre9,-s of WJI-* dul '•osrnac in the glasses. On the edge of the white tablecloth was a crimson s-Tjear, the impress in awful colour of a huge and hideo.is hand. As the two nths gazed from it to each other. they heard-the shout of the Cossacks who had passed them in the daI kn. Like drunken uien they staggered to the door of the library atod threw it open. The light, cutting in behind them, showed a frightful confusion. Fu niture had been overturned the to n frill of a diess was lyin on the carpet. They threaded their way anion,' the uptu. ned chairs to the ous en' an e of the laboratory. They re'oiled. They fled back into 11 as though pur- sued. a sickening sm heir nostrils. Ka'atine looked at >>JQchael with dread and terror fo what he next would do. The lilt of the music upstairs seemed to have become a part of him. He moved to the rhylhm of it. rigid as a marionette pulled by a string, as he walked to the sideboard and lit one of the candles with a little paper shade. Kalatine saw him take it in his hand, go slowly down the library, and stand holding it above his head a moment on the threshold of the laboratory. Then he came back, replaced the candle whence he bad taken it, and sat down before the table, staring straight in front of him. Kalatine went up to him, whispered what was it ?" with dry lips, but he sat like a sculptured figure with eyes that saw not; ears that heard not. Then Kalatine also took the candle, but when he had seen what was beyond the open door, the candle fell from his hands and a darkness thicker than the night without fell upon him. Kalatine could never tell how he got back to the room with the light—whether he crawled or ran whether the time the journey took was to be reckoned in seconds or in hours. All that he knew was that he awoke to find himself crouched upon the library floor, with the door dosed behind him. He was sitting there under the light in a deathly silence, looking down at the cuff of his jacket. Entangled in the buttons, brushed from some piece ot upturned furniture, were a. few long, dark hairs torn from a woman's head, and tears welled out of his eyes, scalding his cheeks and his hands as he thought, not of what he had seen among the'wrecked instruments in the laboratory, but of a little, smooth bed, a, filmy dress, a pair of shoes, a fan. He started up. An inner fire seemed to dry his tears for ever. Michael had stretched his arms' upon the table. His head had fallen forward between them. Kalatine gripped him by the shoulder. Michael," he cried, vengeance. Come quick with me." But Michael did not move. Kalatine pushed him into a sitting posture against the back of the chair. Michael did not speak. Michael did not hear. His embittered brooding over the sorrows of his country had culminated in this silence. His eyes still held that look which Kalatine had seen in them when he had come back with the candle, and that expression would never leave them. So you cannot come!" said Kalatine. No matter, little brother. I shall be strong for both of us!" He had no time to embrace his comrade. As the corpse fell forward again, he felt his revolver and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He knew now why he had fought to retain his weapons. He rushed out and away, athirst for the crackle-of firearms and the glow of ravenous flamo».«<M At the barricades, an officer tore the facings from his uniform. With the figure of a boy, the face of a haggard man, and the voice of a. leader of men, this new soldier of Revolution, as from the hands of an avenging God, was thrown like a torch into the burning city. (The End.) Next Week— THE IDYLL OF A MOMENT. By Dorothy Baird.
CRIFPEN WITNESS R0BBE9.
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CRIFPEN WITNESS R0BBE9. Mr J. E. Nash, theatrical manager, has had his flat at Park Mansions, Vaiixhall Park, near Vauxhall Station, burgled. Mr Nash is one of the principal witnesses in the Crippen case, and it he that informed Scotland Yard that Mrs Crippen had disappeared. It is stated that Mr Nash had been away for two or three days at Bristol, where his wife is performing. When he left London the flat was securely- locked. During a flying return visit to London, however, he found that the door had been forced open. The burglar or burglars apparently made no attempt on the patent lock, but forced the door with a jemmy or some such instrument. Tho work was so cleverly done that there were few s» rate hes. E cry box and drawer ,18 ransackcd, hut it is understood that no jewellery or money was found. Some silver pl.itc w, however, juissing. It Is thoueht that 1[" Nash's movements were known. The flat is on the flrst ifloor .-lose to the front en- i trance, "but at this particular spot it is aufftci- eutly daH- to enable anyone to stand back unobserv- d..
ARRESTS FOR DRUNKENNESS.
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ARRESTS FOR DRUNKENNESS. Why Comparatively Few? SPEECH BY MR DONALD MACLEAN. VgilantAdministration ofthe Law. Speaking at Porth on Saturday evening at. meeting in celebration of the 75th anniversary of the Independent Order of Rechabites, rv-3^.1 Maclean, formerly M.P. for dc«,it with the statistics in respect of drunke ness at Cardiff. „•!» Mr Dona Id Maclean said the Licensing & was lost because at that time the Trade w more powerful than the State, but they co*u congratulate themselves now that that was longer the case. (Applause.) They could say that the Trade was beaten, and what w™? more the Trade knew it. If theTraae that the imposition of the licensing dut* was the end of Liberal political action they had made a great mistake. (Hear, beaf* Mr Mat-lean, having dealt with the benefit* off-jets of the Welsh Sunday Closing Act. ceeded to deal with the statistics of drunken ness in the < ity 'of Cardiff. He said the faC of the 'ase were readily ascertainable those who cared to come to Cardiff to thern and ask their meaning. did not understand how in a great city Cardiff, with a population of over 200,000, the were only 533 arrests for drunkenness last 7^ and 148 convictions, whilst in Swansea were 957 arrests and 727 convictions. He » mitted there was a vevy big difference the two towns. Cardiff was a most ditJir town to police owing to its cosmopolitan cbaj" a> ter. Almost every tongue could be heard in the streets of Cardiff almost Kve, se-t, and creed was represented, and great difficulty in policing such a town WOU** be readily understood. Tribute to the Pelice: f Why was it that there were so few arreøt8 The reason was that the police did their duw in preventing crime rather than waiting crime to be committed. They watched public-houses closely, and every man 9<~r slightly intoxicated or who bore outward e*V denr-e of being under the influence of drink, entering licensed premises was promptly 10 lowed, and the licensee as well as the man warned of the consequences that would fOUO, further supply. Was not that the proper w»y Last year there were 2,124 visits paid by Cardiff police to licensed premises upon persons being seen to enter under influence of drink, and 35,831 visits paid by police in order to see that the law as to -eetZg ing persons uniler the influence of was not infringed. That was a answer to the question asked why there wep so few arrests made in a town of the speci*^ difficult nature of Cardiff. The reason^ that the law was administered by the poli and the result of this administration was fleeted in the small number of arrests sary, and the improved condition of the Arrests and Convictions. If 533 arrests were made and only 148 victions resulted, the question was put, t»jj the Cardiff police must surely be mJstakJf with regard to some of the men arrested. was nothing of the kind. Anyone going court of law at Cardiff or in London would that in nine out of every 10 cases brought ward, or at any rate in a large number of the magistrate would simply caution the feftdants, oftentimes making the remark you come here again you will be fined or to prison. It did not therefore follow tD*J there were any wrong arrests made at in view of the fact that in nine out of every.^ cases where a man camo before the Bench *~i the first time, and had been locked up night in the police cells, it was the practh^ the court to give him a chance of going *• without paying a fine or go to prison for days as the case might be. During lMt y only one or two cases was the issue raised to whether a man was drunk or not. \'Y ';it they should do as temperance was to utilise their energies in all localities w the direction of bringing pressure to bear on authorities to fully administer the existing If they did so they would get the law respec and secure an enormous improvement in■ condition of the streets. Meanwhile tb^*T should be no slackening in their efforts to into operation the machinery for lessening Jo number of public-houses. In places where t had reduced the licences in Cardiff there h*T been a marked improvement. It was an standing fact that where the present law been properly administered the results been most beneficial.
SOUTH MONMOUTHSHIRE t
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SOUTH MONMOUTHSHIRE t The 75th anniversary of the Order of Rechabites was celebrated by tb South Monmouthshire district at AbercaxojjjjJ Saturday, when a large number of memb^v attended. Abercarn was selected for the ing because it possesses the oldest tent inj*^ South Monmowbh district. A conference f* held in the afternoon, Bro. E. N onnø.Ø D.S.J.T., Newport, presiding, and a papet: 0 Hindrances to Juvenile Work." by Bro. Macintosh, Belfast, was read by Bro. B Cardiff. Bro. Thomas Davies, D.C.R., newynydd, presided at the evening naoeUM when Bro. John Phillipson, High Chief read a paper on An Ideal District." A. E. Jones, P.D.C.R., Talywain, and Pritchard, J.D.C.R., Risca, joined in the cussion. The latter emphasised the Sunday closing and the favourable consid^j tion to Friendly Societies by the in such measures as the Old Age Pensions A°
BOARD OF IIRECTORS ATCAftDlff.
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BOARD OF IIRECTORS ATCAftDlff. The Board of Directors met at Cardiff^ Saturday to transact business. In the Bro. W. Churchill, Past High Chief BoJE Corsham (Wilts), addressed a meeting Cory Hall. Bro. W. A. Piatt, High Dep«% Ruler, Bury, who presided, said if they their axe at the root of the evil of intem there would be no unemployed, the bonSJ illl problem wonld be solved, and the social t;.tI that were rampant in uur large towns and rJø would be swept away. The great of the Order was total abstinence from aJ toxicating liquor. At the biennial of the Order in 1905, a net increase in tJ1 jØ' bership of 42.300 was reported, 1907 crease of 46,900, and 1909, covering a peri^^w great depression in trade, 37,600. thns m*? a net increase in six years of 126,800 Their death rate per annum was never Dl lIf than per thousand, whereas that of 80Dl the leading non-teetotal societies was 12 13 per thousand. ^0 On Sunday morning a church par»de^Jl held, the members assembling at the City £ and marching to Wesley Chapel. Charies-ste^j, where the Rev. Thomas Ewbank offiCI r Bro J. Phillipson, High Chief Ruler.New -:A.. on-Tyne, andl Bro. R. Bell, MiddleabroW^ took part in the service. In the afternoon Phillipson addressed the P.S.A. in the Hall.
BUCKWOODTROCESSION.
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BUCKWOODTROCESSION. There was a conference at Blackwood \f: leyan Chapel on Saturday, when about Rechabites were present from the various of the district. Mr A. Badminton, D.C.B., degar, presided, and was supprted by 11 John Phillipson, Newcastle, High Chief 01 and Bro. Leor Caton, Birmingham, the board of directors. Bro. D. Thomas, Bbi. ney, read a paper on "Should sick and dent benefits be separately provided for 1 p. the close of the conference a new district ner was unfurled by the High Chief An imposing procession was formed paraded the streets of Blackwood, led by Blackwood Temperance Pand. In the a public meeting was held, when Cou»c'^ Harris presided, and addresses advoc^^y the claims of the Order were Bro. L. Caton, Birmingham, and David Tredegar.
PORTH PROCESiioN A MILE L0N*#
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PORTH PROCESiioN A MILE L0N*# At Porth there was a procession ab°^ot mile in length. The officials and member^, the Order wore their full regalia, and monstration attracted a great deal of pl1.d interest.the route being lined with a. number of spectators. Excellent arrange10 jjf were made by the local district secretary* D. M. Williams. In the evening a public O* JJ, ing, under the presidency of the S. Salmon, was held at Bethlehem C eer;)a and Mr Donald Maclean delivered a J. (reported in another column), as also did S. Newton, a member of the boaDd. of direc