Welsh Newspapers

Search 15 million Welsh newspaper articles

Hide Articles List

15 articles on this Page

THE OLD BAILEY; DR, CELEBRATED…

News
Cite
Share

[Au. RIGHTS RSSKRVKD.] THE OLD BAILEY; DR, CELEBRATED TRIALS RE- TOLD. BY HARRY BLYTH, Author of "The Devil's Heir," "A Wily Woman, &c., Sea. CHAPTER L GBIQORT FKAMK'S MISSION. trot the London of to-day not Old London jitber, but the London that was seeing the last of the cattle pens in Smithfield, that bad commenced bat not opened its Embankment, and was taking active measures to bridge over the valley formed by the Holborn Hills, to the saving of hor»«flash iond the safety of life. It had not yet nerved Itaelf up to the serious consideration of removing; Temple Bar, which for some time later continued with sullen obstinacy to impede the traffic. The Metropolitan Railway was open, but it did not rztend in an easterly direction further thaa Farringdon-street, and between this terminus and Smithfieid existed a loathsome intricacy of toarfci, crooked streets and alleys, where the pestilence held sway, end crime found a forbid- ding lurking place. Tha devil's nest has now happily been cleared away, and our gigantic wilderness of thoroughfares is freed from the stain of tolerating that noisome collection of evil streets and fatal trapa, which then stretched from Oxford-street to St. Martin's-lane and Soho. At the time of which we write the gibbet was itill erected outside the Old Bailey when occa- lion required, to the huge satisfaction of the ribald drunken mob, which on all occasions iwarmed and pushed and cursod around the scaffold, as it would to-day were the hideous custom reverted t>. In spite of the great im- provements which we have indicated, and many others, it may well be questioned whether London; te less vicious now than it was then. New itreeta may come and old ones may go, but our jrimiaals we have always with us. The London )f some twenty odd years ago was, at least, free 'rom the latest product of high civilisation- "Jack the Ripper." Oue damp and sickly morning early in the year, sfregory Frame reached Charing Cross Station, which, by the way, had not then been open many Months. He had crossed from Calais by the he night boat, and he prosented a marked difference from the other passengers, who ap- peared to have suffered much during the journey. They all looked pale, dejected pinched, and cold. while he was bright and active, and as cheerful as a man with a great sorrow eating into his heart can be. His luggage, consisting of a couple of large leather trunks, was placed on a cab, and he drove to the Golden Cross Hotel, which is just, opposite to the station. Here be engaged a bed and sitting-room for himself, and after a light breakfast he plunged into the rain and misty atmos- phere of the Strand. He possessed a distinguished appearance, and there was about him that air so difficult to describe, which mental power com- bined with wealth almost always civss. Ho was tail and slight in build, without being thin. There was at once a keenness and a softness in the large blue eyes which gave such light to his deeply- tanned face. A silky brown monstuche and slightly pointed beard concealed his uiouth and obin the one was as tender as a woman's, and the other was alive with determination. Smoky old London," he murmured, as be walked along the greasy pavement and looked about him. Ym have not altered much since I last saw your grimy face. We were close friends once, and it feels something like coming back to home to see you once again. My God what a mockery it sounds for me to talk of bome." It was a bad day for any one who was in a dejected mood. The sun strove, but with ill success, to send his cheering rays through the wet aud clinging atmosphere. The Strand, so bustling in the afternoon, so radiant at night, is dull and shabby in the morning. The drowsy restaurants emit the stale odours of past suppers ,be neighbourhood of the public-houses reeks with the smell of beer and musty tobacco the ihops you thought ao brilliant appear to have gone .oto mourning for their departed customers the lotsnd of the traffic seems lo be deadened. The folks Gregory Frame met looked to be as wretched as himself. Some bad ob- viously not been to bed all night, and all wove unmistakable evidences of possessing a troublesome liver. Even the flower girls had not yet arrived to brighten things, up a bit. The Strand had its violets, its roses, and its maiden- hair ferns, as long back as twenty-five years ago, but the sellers were of a higher type than those we see now. The profit on selling flowers was greater in those days, and theve were compara- tively few in the business. Gregory held his bourse till he cam to Essex-fftreet, down which iie turned, baiting beforo a house which bore *int*ng other names on the sides of the door that it "Cmteg Woolfstein." This gentleman had offices on the third floor, and to these the traveller made his way. "Is Mr Woolfstein in?" he asked the long, 'e?n, hollow-faced clerk, who at his summons ;awe to the pigeon bole made into the frosted glass frame, which protected the front office from the stare of the inquisitive. The young gentle- man, who had all the fragrance of a well-aoloured clay pipe, treated Gregory to an expression which taid as plainly as word.s :—" What the deuce has that to do with you ?' He tapped his head three times with his knuckle?, as one who wanted admit- tance wight at a door, and then asked with abrupt illickne "Are you the 0ne who wrote from Paris?" Yes." Come in. Y oa'l1 find the Napoleoo of private -I,itmtivas iu that room." I Gregory entered the apartment the cadaverous elerk bad indicated. It was empty, and be was %bout to withdraw when the lid of a long and broad settee opened, and a dark little man with a hooked noxe and short glossy curia skipped out. Glad to see you, sir. Been up all niht, and I was just doing forty winks. Nice contrivance, oil? Couldn't very well have a bed here, you know-at least, not one that's seen. So I've got oue in thtte. Nicely ventilated, and as snug as you could wish for. It's funny what I bear in there sometimes. A lot of folks make a mistake in not telling me the whole truth when they engage me. Ofteu a couple of people will come bere with a job for me there they wait for me to come in while I'm in all the time. In tkere." pointing to the settee. Shall we tell him so and so?' says the one. Oh, no,' aaya the other, and so on. After a bit tbey get tirad of waiting and go. When they do meet me I can tell them as much about their affairs is they can themselves, and they say, What a wonderful man.' Ah, I see you do not like my methods—you we disappointed in me. Do you think I would talk to every one like this ? No you come with the right introduc- tion from my old Paris friend, Benjamin Swigart, and I talk freely to you." "Motis. S vigart told me I might trust impli- ) citly to your perfect honesty." Swigart was wrong, and he knew it. I am too good a detective to be honest. Your so-called honest men in my profession are always weak rogues. No, my friend, I pretend to no honesty, Jfor Swigart's sake I will serve you to the skin of my bones as long as your money lasts. Yau-are nothing to me. When your money is done my work ceases. But I will do my utmost to bring about anything you may desire long before your bag begins to feel any lightness." "Swigart was right," Gregory said, half to bimseif. You are honest." The little man bad by this tima seated himself on his table, with his feet on the elbows of his arm chair. The position was not elegant, but he appeared to find it comfortable and, indeed, cheering. He drew a shabby case from bis pocket, and offered Gregory his choice of six black and strong lookmg cigars. They both smoked. "Itiauoc,ompliment, my friend, to call me boaeat," said U us teg Woolfstein. But come andgiveme your atory. I will work for you. But you will help me and help yourself if you tell me the truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me bob. J) The bronaed-faced man smiled sadly. I do not want to conceal anything, and I Slave no IW" tale to tell, A wonafta——" "Ab, yes," the detective broke in, "I knew that directly I saw you. There is always a woman-especi ally with men who have your face. They run after you-they run after you I do not pretend to be a beauty, but even I have had my romances." Who has not? You shall hear my story, and I will tell it to you as tersely as I am able. I married young, and naturally did not marry money one never does in the heydey of youth. I was as poor as my bride. I thought her the only woman on earth. Putting aside my inex. perience and the glamour she threw over my enraptured aenaea, she reaiiy was beautiful. It was, though, the beauty of earth and not of heaven. Things went very bad with us, but she was staunch and true, and my passion for her increased with our trials. Then came the gold fever. I caught it. It was idle to remain in England struggling against want when gold could be bad for the digging in Australia. My wife would not bear cf being left behind. I managed to gather together sufficient money to take us out. We started hopefully, and our dreams of future wealth swelled and glowed the further we sailed on. On the vessel we made the acquaintance of a young fellow named Rhoderick Bledston. He, too, was in search of fortune, and we quickly became such fast friends that we decided to share our luck together." Ah said Custeg dubiously, I think I can see through your story. Two men and one woman, the woman fair to look on-it always ends that way." Let's hope not always. I certainly acted foolishly, but I was totally unsuspecting. He seemed frankness and truth itself, and she-bow could I doubt the one I worshipped? 1 need not bother yon with the details of all our unsuccessful attempts to find gold. For months we failed miserably—horribly. We were in the final stage of despair, but my beloved Ina gave some bright- ness to our little but, and we were, a united little family; he behaving as a brother might do to both of Uit. Then he fell sick and I went to work alone. All hope had fled now, but I still toiled on in a dull mechanical way. One day I came unexpectedly on a vein rich in gold. From being an exhausted beggar I had almost limitless wealth. I was delirious with joy, and I think for a little I became insensible. Then with some specimens cf the joyous find I made for our little home with the speed of the wind. The hut was empty. I could not understand it. Rhoderick was so weak when I left him that it seemed dangerous to move him. Yet he was away, and hia small belongirigoi bad disappeared too And Ina, where was she ? Where was my baby irl All bad gone. I stood alone in that desolate place with no companion but my own sorrow. I did not see the truth all at once. It was too awful to think of. When it did strike my heart and fire my brain it drove me mad. I cursed the gold that had brought this misery on me; I cursed them I cursed myseif; I cursed God for having put such a devil into so fair a form. Then came a dull heavy meod, and I went to work alt before, but sullenly, and as if I bad been the last man left on the earth. Gold that I had toiled so hope- lessly for for years fell in literal showers upon me. I was a wealthy man, but I yearned with a desperate yearning for a return of my happy poverty. Finally I determined to go back to Europe and find my lost friends. I have some slight reason for believing that they are in I .London. I have no clue at all. But I will try London first." "You want to find them?" said M? Custeg, eying Gregory Frame keenly. Why?" "is it not natural that a father should wisb to find his lost dauhter 7" True. But what do you want with Rhoderick Bledston ?" "He was my partner. I must give him his share of the gold I found while he was still in the cabin." Yoo do, do you 1" said Mr Custeg, with a cynical laugh. c. And what do you want with the false wife I will take her to my arms again." Your forbearance and amiability are pro- digious, my friend. Let me tell you what you wish to do. You want to pay the friend who treated you so v'lely what you owe him—in other words you want to kill him. You will take your erring wife to your arms, but it will be to strangle her. Am I not right ?" I have told you what I intend doing," said I Gregory. with indifference. I Ha Well, you want me to find these I people I" "To help me to tind them," Gregory inter- posed. Put it which way you like. And you have no c) ue ?, Absolutely none. All I can suggest is that we practically go systematically through London and examine every section cf its society." That's what I call a tall order. Its very grandeur charms me. I am the man for you. I can take you into any place you wish or get my- self in." That's what I call tall talk," smiled Gregory. You exclude the Queen's palaces ?" Indeed, I do not. I can tell you it is easier to get into a palace than into a merchant/a house. What do you suppose your wife is doing ?" "I have no theory. If all has gone well with her she should be a magnificent woman by this time. She was yuung when she left me, aud she is not yet forty." A woman likely to attract attention V •• Undoubtedly." And therefore not likely to settle down to any humdrum life T" I fear not. But if she really loved a man be could mould her to his own ends-so long as her love lasted," he added bitterly. "Do you know how they managed to leave Melbourne? They bad no money, and were encumbered by a child." "That they did leave it I have proof. There is some circumstantial evidence to show that Bled. ston murdered a miner in the outskirts of the town and robbed him. If this be true this money would enable them to get back to the old country. Such crimes were common in those days, and not much trouble was taken to trace murderers. Nowadays Melbourne has very much improved in this respect, and in every way." What age is the child ?" My Blaucii ? Poor girl! She must be nearly eighteen now," Do you know if she is still with her mother I do not. The woman who forsakes her hus- band is usually not very particular about sticking to her child." "No, Not when tho) husband is good to her and she leaves him for a lover. You can tell me about the man afterwards. It will be easier to trace the woman I fancy. Age and disguises change a man more than a woman. Besides." I Mr Custeg muttered to himself, "if you find the man first you will inevitably kill him, and there will be an end of this very promising business." Can you commence at once?" asked Gregory. You must give me till the evening. There are some matters that must have my attention. Are you going along the-Strand ? Good. We will walk together and discuss affairs." As they left the house they did not observe two alouching-looking men hanging about the public- 11 house at the opposite corner. One was arrayed in all the faded glories of long past swelldom. The other was an unmistakable brute of the moat ferocious type. His eyes seemed to glitter with very greed of gore. "That's him," excitedly whispered the one who bad once perhaps dined at Varrey's. "Get him, and it will be the biggest thing we have ever done. He's worth milliom." "Does be carry any stuff about him I" deman- ded the other, following Gregory Frame with his I creepy, crime-striving eyes. That does not matter. If we get him, we get bis money. I'll arrange that. %%t6 Follow them-" Not me; that's your job. I'm going to have a pot of beer." The shabby man, after giving vent to a phrase not necessary to print, followed Mr Cuateg and Gregory in a peculiarly stealthy way,, to the end of the day's adventure. They had got well into the narrow part of that famous thoroughfare, tbe Strand, when Gregory Frame startled the detective by ottering a wild cry- "Heavena he ejaculated, pointing a feverish band at a handsome carriage which was just passing them. "There she is. My wife 1" Cuateg, now as agitated as his companion, clutched hie arm. [ "Yenare mad," be cried, bearnly, 11 it is iin possible. That is one of the highest ladies in the land. Contain yourself or you are a ruined man." "My wife I" again cried the frenzied Gregory, and he broke away from little Custeg and plunged into the ceaseless stream of the Strand traffic, determined to get up with the carriage. And with his wild haste he would have suc- ceeded had Dot the very fierceness of his desire blinded him, with the result that the shaft of a "Hansom" caught his shoulder and threw him violently towards the pavement, and another cab going in an opposite direction passed over both his legs. It is needless to say that a mob gathered at once. That part of the street ia always crowded at that period of the day. He was insensible from the fall, but, curiously enough, his legs did not appear to have suffered serious burt. The elasticity of bone, under cer- tain conditions, is almost limitless. They were about to convey him into a chemist's shop bard by for some superficial examination to be made, and then on to King's College Hospital, when a tall, commanding looking woman broke through the ring of inquisitive people surrounding him I and said in tones which admitted of no denial :— Bring him to my house. It is nearer than the chemist's. It is only in Surrey-street. I will show you the way." They followed her, carrying him. He waa placed in a comfortable room off the entrance- hail, and the lady sent her servant for a doctor. You have done a charitable action, Madame," said Mr Custeg, and any expense or trouble you may be put to, my friend will be only too pleased to make good." It is nothing," she said coldly. If the doctor says he is seriously injured, he must go to the hospital or somewhere. But if be is likely to recover in a few hours be is welcome here." "Allow me to give you my card, madame— Custeg Woolfstein, A close neighbour of yours." She took it from his hand and dropped it on the table. Ob, yes," she said, with a slight rising of her upper lip. "I have heard of you, and also of your great friend, Swigart. Both very clever," and she laughed in a way that nearly made Custeg dance. "Pnrhaps you will remain with your friend until Dr Doubleyoutee arrives. Should you require the servant you have only to touch that bell." That is the usual way of summoning the domestic," returned Custeg, acidly, but the dark woman had sailed, with some show of a grand air, out of the room. Custeg was evidently puzzled and irritated. "Funny I have not seen her before," he mut- tered. "What can she be? No good, I'll be bound. Knows Swigart, too. I'm sorry for Swigart. What possessed my friend, who is snor- ing so heavily cn that bed, to rush after that car- riage, I don't know. If ho persists in that sort of game we shall both get into trouble. It would ruin my business, anyway. Amen, Joseph per- haps his trouble has dri\eu him mad. Maybe it will not turn out such a good job as I expected. But, there, Swigart is no fool. 1 will go on for a little and see." The detective's rtfl'ictions were interrupted by the arrival of Dr Doubleyoucee, who, it chanced, was well acquainted with him. CHAPTER II. GOD WATCH OVER HIM, AXD GIVK HIM GRACE. NOT since 1885 had England known such severe frosts as 1867 opened with. Those in London were especially disastrous. Scarcely had the Christmas festivities passed, with all their joyous recollections on the one hand, and a tempered dyspepsia or a soothed liver on the other, in pleasant, though distant -view, than that terrible catastrophe on the waters of Regent's Park cast a gloom over the homes of the happiest, and added another sorrow to the wretched. I Then a few days later came that icey night when clerks living in the suburban parts of the great city skated to their offices, and those who could not ue" the irons" fell aud fell, till the hospitals were crammed and the undertakers held high revel. It was anything but a pleasant or even a hope- ful year. Gaunt want walked the streets, and with evil, hungry eye gfzed ferociously from every corner, east and west. The South wanted bread; thelSorth sent up a heartrending cry-" We are famished." And truly tb,y were. Often had the people, made after God's own imagine, to tear up the very boards tbey should stand on in their small rooms to kindle a poor fire to keep the blood from freezing in its attenuated vessels. Eighteen hundred and sixty-seven opsned badly, and gloomy indeed had been the record of sixty- six. It3 stab bad been a Black Friday," which, for & commercial moment, paralysed the Stock Exchange and the Banks of the city. Tuose glorious institutions soon recovered themselves. Nearly all the cruelty of the crims sent its bitter dart of crushed hope and oft times absolute despair into sweet hedge-braced country homes. The widow who found her little fortune gone, which she had so cherished to endow her daughter with the half-pay officer who, being a good fellow, was determined none of his should absolutely want when he threw off the world's uniform, and the trustful, clf-riyin;iu-iinple and guileless himself, believing in no guile in others-tbese were the ones who, had they been in the habit. of cursing, would have spoken in fiery strains of the collapse of Overend, Guerney, and Company. But these could only break their hearts, while the gentlemen who had lured them on to their speculations soothed themselves with Mdit and C,handon, a nl puliel roun,l ciie c,)ruer. Such is Life Still tha children of Darkness remain wiser in their generation than the angels of light. So far as this history goes, we shall see whether the saying be true. The simple villagers of Cramber-Greystone, a I somewhat remote hamlet in Sussex, with indica- tions of the Norman Conquest, and a siaudiutr- out lack of an educational one, went t,) their parish church with its grave pillars, its solemn altar, and its wondrously moulded roofing, All unknowing of the buzz nod excitement that had been going on in Throgmorton and Lombard- Streets. The atmosphere of their own downs was over them all, and they were as simple as the sheep they set such store on. Not that the sheep lacks cunning. All the old men had rheumatism, and all the old women nagging tongues, if not the other complaint. From an antiquarian point of view, Morman churches are worthy of study, and should win an architect's admiration, but when it cones to sitting in or.e of their freezing seats after a three miles' walk through the snow, I do not bless that French invasion which is said to have done so much for us poor uncivilised Britons. Perhaps, though, the Norman church was an improvement on the oak tree, and that an advance on the period when we devoured one another with some gusto. The eating of our brothers still goes on, though in a less objoction- able and less concrete form. And it was impossible to associate the Rev Theophilus Merton with the din and turmoil and feverish agony of the distant city. He inido a fine picture as he stood in that graven pulpit, the sun streaming through the deep windows to make his hair more silvery the snow outside to dance and glitter. He had a clean white, clear-cut face, with eloquent eyes a noble forehead, and delicate nervous ur-ntis. His method was gentle and appealing, but his high thoughts and his refined periods were lost on his droning congregation, who tolerated him with a sort of respectful pity tinged with a little wonder. "Black Friday bad indeed been black with bim. Like many of bis cloth be had been led by too promising prospectuses into hazardous invest- ments, and be found all his savings gone at one cruel sweep. That such a man should fail in his dealings with the sons of mammon was not strange that be should have allowed himself to have been contaminated by their touch was unexpected that he should speculate from pure orreed of gold seemed impossible. And indeed it was. He bad simply striven to make some modeat provision for his ward, Blanche Darrell, whom be loved next to his God. As fresh and as lovely as a bright spring burst- in into a glorious summer, Blanche, at eighteen years of age, was in that grey village as a rose among dock leaves—as an angel in a casual ward. There was a tendency to the grand type of beauty in those solid, rounded limbs of hers it is true, but at this time she had the suppleness and grace of the antelope. Her cheeks were bright and rosy her tips full and red, and she possessed that rare combination of black brows and f-yes, with almost golden hair. An enthusiastic sculptor would have yearned to give with his cunning hands a semblance of her slowing form to his cold, crude marble, but he would have found himself sighing at her feet ere his chisel had commenced its work. Not the least of her charms was her complete naturalness, and absent freedom from coquetry or affectation. And, being truthful, she was naturally fearless. How came she, Merton's ward, was not known th"re, tor the simple reason that no one bad ever enquired. He had brought her with him a little child when he first came to the place. There was no one in a position to question him as to his affaiis except, perbapa, the doctor, and all he knew or cared to know was that Blanche was the daughter of a dear, dead friend of Theophilus's. Curiosity Has active enough over the petty details of daily life in the village, but this matter did not concern it. Had the parson arrived with a ward of Blanche's present ago, the case would bave been quite different. Theophilus bad practically only two houses at which he visited in the social meaning of the term. The one waa the village doctor's, and the other a pretty little bome a little way out, belonging to aMrs Wentworthy, a widow with an only son, Jobn, uow in his 21st year. The widow lived on a small but respectable annuity left her by her husband, and tier cheery drawing- room waa as a haven of rest for these solitary man, for the leech was a bachelor too. It is not surptigingthat from the first little Blanche and not much bigger John became playmates, later friends, and finally lovers. Both the widow and the clergyman watched this natural development with mellowed acquiescence. On the particular morning with which we are concerned Theophilus lay back in his big arm- chair and appeared to be absorbed in the Church Times-a comparatively new paper then. Blanche and John Wentworthy stood in the great bay window which opened on to the snow-clad lawn. Her dark, laughing, tremulous eyes were dulled with tears, and her lips twitched with pain. A cloud was over his broad, handsome face, and they spoke in low, earnest tones. It seems like losing part of myself—half of my life, to be without you," she said. "Oh, Jack, what shall I do when you have one away" "It will not be for long," be replied, in a crrave, hopeful away. "If I work hard, I can get my degree in three years, and then we shall be always together." Three years sounds like an eternity. I can- not explain to you how I shall miss you. Why, I used to break my heart when I was a little girl and you went away to school, and now, ob, Jack, it will be all so dismal Oere." I feel the separation too, sweetheart," be said, gently, but the inevitable must be faced. In- deed, I should have gone up last October. Re- member, I shall not be away three years. I shall see you at the end of every session." Don't think me foolish, dear one; do not be angry with me, but I can't help feeling that you are going from me for ever- Blanche "I know how good and true you are, and all your nobleness of purpose, but that cruel, awful London has swallowed up so many brave, good men. I once read that every stone in its endless streets could tell a tale cf a woman's agony and of a man's fall." Do not give way to such idle terrors. I am not a baby, Blanche." No," she answered, vivaciously, "you would be much safer in that horrible place if you were." What horrible place are you talking about ? queried Theophilus, smoothing his papar out on his knee. Oli, London," laughed Jack. Blanche thinks all kinds of terrible things are going to happen to me. She fancies everyone is bad there, and all bent on taking a stranger in." There are plunty of worthy people there and plenty of unworthy ones, as is the case every- where. Except, perhaps, here my parishioners are too indolent to be actively vicious, and too dull to exhibit any striking virtues." In spite of your hebdomadal eloquence?" M'yes. One gets disheartened sometimes when one labours on and on, and there is no apparent harvest." In a livelier tone he added, Come, Blanche, you must not take Jack's departure so much to heart. Ho can't waste all his time in this dull hole. He has the battle of life to fight like every other young fellow. No doubt Master Jack will get as much enjoyment out of London life as most students do. My time at Cambridge was not a dull one, and I remember we did not encourage austere young gentlemen. If I had not confidence in Jack, I would never have countenanced your engagement to him." It is not tbat Blanche cried. Then she broke down, nod, sobbing, threw herself on the breast of the Rev Mr Merton, to the discomfiture of the Church Times. "Ob, Guardy, Guardy, it seems as though some one was dying in this bouse to-day." They soothed her as well as they were able. It was arranged that the final leave-taking should be there and not at the station. Blanche protested that she could not Titteb the train carry her Jack away. But she was already dressed all the same when the carnage, which had been sent for Mrs Wentworthy, arrived at the Rectory to convey them all to the wayside station. Jack felt the separation keenly, but not as the women did. It is well for the other sex that men can philosophise a little, and often in their greatest despair do their greatest work. Few men, he thought, had ever loved as he loved Blanche. Still, to distract his thoughts from her was the prospect of the excitement. of a life in London with possible college triumphs. His busy fancies had made his journey to London Bridge Station as nothing. His luggage was placed on the roof of a Hansom," and he was about to jump into it when his attention was attracted to a young and slendevly-built girl who looked to him more like an angel than aught human. She wsw leaning against a pillar, and was in a paroxysm of grief. He saw that she would fall, and he ran to save her. Three people at Camber-Greystono were on their kneea at this time, and they all uttered the one prayer- GOD WATCH OVEP. HIM, AND GIVE HIM GRACE." ( To be continued).

------_------CARDIFF GUARDIANS.

.--------------ESTABLISHING…

Advertising

- BLIND LOVE. .

[No title]

CARDIFF LIBERAL CLUB.

'■ THE HONOURABLE SOCIETY…

_----------__-LORD BUTE AND…

Advertising

--NATIONAL UNION OF TEACHERS.

TEMPERANCE WORK AT ICAROIFF.

-------_----_.------A TAX…

A PROTRACTED fASr,

Advertising