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THE ! WORLD, THE FLESH, '…
THE WORLD, THE FLESH, AND THE DEVIL. £ -*■ BY MISS BRADDON. pi ^hore.ss of "Lady Audley's Secret," "Aurora I' '°yd," "Taken at the Flood," Phantom Fortune," Wyllard's Weird." I ^UPTER XII.—"OUT WENT Mr HEAD'S RI AND LKFT IT COLD." ^evard Hillersdon and Mrs Champion met but j ^e during the month of May. Doomed men »• Of linger beyond the hopes or anticipations ™ pi ?ejr medical "attendants, and the famous bj. from Cavendish-square continued his dv^ee'{'7 visits through all the bright long sunny # fc' &lvcn over to the perpetual pursuit of iJ "litM116—a c^ase Ir°lrl which Mrs Champion's fittf ome face and form were missing'. Other jvifes there were as perfect, other faces .is J^'OUB for their charms; and it was only once "ay that one of the butterflies noted the i Jj ■nce of that Queen butterfly it was only once I' Wy that friendship murmured with a sigh, L Por Mrs Champion, mewed up with an invalid ^and all through this lovely season I llasf Champion gave the fading life her utter- y?' devotion. She had a keen sense of honour, llalJ-this wife who had gone on loving her 1 'over all through her married life. She had 'n?°re sensitive conscience than her world would II %ereadily believed. She wanted to do her to the dying husband, so that she might r herself heart and mind to a new life of <J(ies3 when he should be at peace, and yet feel cf remorse, and yet have no dark, over- sowing memory to steel across her sunlight, pj* ith this laudable desire she spent the greater of her life at Finchley, where she had taken near the doctor's house, so as to be within *elf by day or night. She isolated her- from all friends and acquaintances Uj 6Pt Gerard Hillersdon, and even him saw only two or three times a ^3 driving iuto London and taking tea in th6 jJ? Hertford street drawing room, with her nerves ^ays somewhat strained in the dread of some flay' ^e^e^ram ^at should call her back to her «< v, The end may com# at any moment," she said." j^Y^ould be dreadful if I were absent at the Do y ou think it wouldreally matter—to him ? Gerard. ^ink it would. He rarely addresses me by i fet56' '3Ut I think he always knows me. He will the things from my hand—food or medicine y^hich he wfll not take from his nurses. They JJrf 111 e he is much more restless when I am j there. Jt pan do very little for him,; but if lit?11 rna^e him just a shade easier and calmer by j at his bedside it is my duty to be there. o« that it is wrong even to beaway for a couple jjj «ours this afternoon—but if I did not leave j fj|.ftnd that dreary, dreary bouse once in a way .< ok my brain would go as his baa gone." „ Is the house so very dreadful ?" j Dreadful, no. It is a charming house, well- ^ojished, the very pink of neatness, in the midst garden. It is what one knows t^°Ut it—the troubled minds that have worn S]"^selves out in those prim, orderly rooms, the W 83 e7es t^at have stared at those bright, wall-papers, the agonies, and wild delu- attempted suicides, the lingering #ij • When I think of all those things the the house seems intolerable, the ticking j. 'he clock a slow torture. But you will teach yJStto forget all that by and by, Gerard You ^yteach me to forget, won't you ?' Qtfhat was the only allusion she had ever made to the near future. It was forgetfulne6s she l^ned for, as the chief boon the future could You cannot think how long this summer has Jr^ed to me," she said. I hope I am not im- that I would not hasten the end by a t«Z?.0 day—but the days and the hours are \iblv long." Oh •an ^0ur was "t?108* respite tliat Mrs JJ^mpion allowed herself in that cool perfumed tete a tete with her first lover, surrounded '^e fnvolities, the dainty tea table, TUh tiny sandwiches, and heaped up fruit, the Uomatic japaneae fan, mounted on a bambo set *n motion with the slightest touch, the Ca and magazines scattered about, to be ^T^ed off in her Victoria presently, poor solace 'DI Wakeful nights. Only half an hour of converse bv t'>e man loved, broken into very often j/ some officous caller, who saw her carriage at £ door, and insisted upon being let in. it seemed to her now and then that Gerard was te £ 6What a^sent and restrained during these brief to u *etes> ^ut s^e attributed his languid manner L- th« depressing nature of all she had to tell -P1* Her own low spirits communicated them- ,yes to him. We are so thoroughly in sympathy," she told left her one afternoon late in Jane, and in* of going into the park where the triple rank L' carriages by the Achilles statue offered a 'Piquet of high-bred beauty, and the latest pUinphs of court dressmakers to the eye of the ranger, he walked past the Alexandra Hotel and JrlPPiped into Sloane-street, and thence to Chel- !*• His feet had taken him in that direction often of late. had found no difficulty in discovering liter's dwelling-place, for on his way to the St. Club he had stumbled against old Daven- '■ bottle-nosed, shabby, but wearing clean carefully brushed clothes, and with a cer- ^rvival of his old Oxford manner. ■_ ^either drunken habits nor dark vicissitudes impaired the old man's memory. He recog- Hillersdon at a glance, and cordially re- lumed his greeting. Wonderful changes have come about since I*6 saw each other in Devonshire, Mr Hillersdon," ''aid. I have gone very low down the ladder fortune, and you have gone very high up. I I°Qgratulate you upon your good luck—not un- reserved, certainly not. It was a brave deed, my young friend, and merited a handsome I read the story in the newspapers." A much exaggerated version of the truth, no S^ubt. I'll walk your way, if you please, Mr P&venport. I should like to hear how the world used you." Scurvily, sir, very scurvily but perhaps no jorse than I deserved. You remember what "amlet says Use every man after his desert, who shall escape whipping?' I don't like to **«e you out of your way, Mr Hillersdon." My way is no way. I was only strolling- til no settled purpose." ..They were on the Chelsea embankment, where 'oe old houses of Chevne Walk still recall the old "orld quiet of a day that is dead, while the Sus- ^nsion Bridge and Battersea Park tell of an age *«at means change and progress. "You like old Chelsea and its associations," •aid Davenport. Very much. I remember the place when I "as a boy, and I recognise improvement every- where but I grieve over the lost landmarks, °on Saltero, the old narrow Cheyne Walk, the sober shabbiness-" "There are older things that I remember— 111 the days when my people lived in wndes.square, and I used to come fresh from to take my fill of pleasure in the "London season. My father was a prosperous x-C., a man employed in all the great ?jses where intellect and oratory were wanted, "e Was earning a fine income— though not half *8 much as your famous silk-gowns earn nowa- <%s—and he spent as fast as be earned. He had a large famtly and was very liberal to his child- ish—and when he died. in the pime of life, he left his widow and family the fag-end of a lease, a suite of Louis Quatorze furniture already out fashion, a choice collection of Wedge wood, and a few Prouts, Tophams Hunts, and Dun- had put away nothing out of the big that had been pouring in for the last fifteen years of his life. He used to talk about begin- Iling to save next year, but that next year never talne. The sale of the lease and furniture made little fund for my mother and three unmarried daughters. For me and my brothers the world was oyster—to be opened as best we might." „ You had scholarships to help you." "Yes, Greek and Latin were my only stock in ]*ade. A friend of my father's gave me a small •iving within a couple of years of my entering Priest's orders, and on the strength of that I mar- ried, and took private pupils. I lost my wife "hen Hetty was only twelve years old, but things had begun to go wrong before then. My second living was in a low district, village and vicarage On Clay soil, too many trees, and no drainage. The Qevil's tootn of neuralgia fastened itself upon me, body and bones, and my life for some years was a Perpetual fight with pain-like Paul, I fought Wi basts, invisible beasts, that gnawed into my Hera is my poor little domicile. I hardly *»ew had walked so far." lie had taken his homeward way automatically, While Gerard walked beside him, through shabby streets of those small semi-destaohed houses which the builder has devised for needy gentility and Prosperous labour—here the healthy mechanic with and thirty shillings a week, corduroy trousers, and shirt sleeves; there the sickly clerk, with a Weekly guinea and ft thread-bare alpaca coat. Here clean and shining windows and flower boxes, there dirt and slatternliness, broken bottles, and Weeds in the tiny forecourt, misery and spualor in its most hideous aspect. Geard had marked the shabbiness of the neighbourhood, and he felt that in the midst of this sordid labyrinth he should find his Ariadne, though her hand would never have furnished him with the clue. The house before which Mr Davenport stopped Was no better than the other houses which they had passed, but the best had been made of its shabbiness, .the forecourt was full of stocks and carnations, and a row of Mary lilies marked the boundary rail which divided this tiny enclosure from the adjacent patch. The window panes shone bright and clear, and the window box was a hanging garden of ivy-leafed geranium, yellow marguerites, and mignonette, c. What a pretty little garden," exclaimed Gerard. Yes. there are a good many flowers for such a scrap of ground. Hettie and I are very fond of our garden—we've a goodish bit of ground at the back. It's about the only thing we can take any pride in with such surroundings as ours." And then, lingering at the gate, as Gerard Unloved, the old man asked— Will you come in and rest after your walk ? I can give you a lemon squash." That's a tempting offer upon one of the hottest afternoons we have had this year. Yes, I shall be glad to sit down for half an hour, if you are sure I shan't be in your way." I shall be very glad of your company. I get plenty of solitude when Hettie is out on her long tramps to Knightsbridge, She often passes the house in which her grandfather used to entertain some of the best people in London—a work-girl, with a bundle under her arm. Hard, aint it ? F,: opeuod the door and admitted his visitor into a passage fourteen feet by two feet six, out of which opened the front parlour and general living room, a small room, nearly square, and with a little stunted cupboard on each side of the fireplace. Gerard looked about him with greedy eyes, notmg every detail. The furniture was of the commonest, a pem- broke table, half a dozen cane-bottomed chairs, a sofa, inch as can only be found in lodging-house parlours but there were a few things which gave individuality to the room, and in somewise redeemed its sorbid shabbiness. Fronting the window stood a capacious arm chair, covered with apple blossom chintz; the ugly sofa was draped with soft Japanese muslin a cheap paper screen of cool colouring broke the ugly outline of the folding doors, and a few little bits of old china and a row of books gave meaning to the wooden slabs at the top of the dwarf cupboards. There was a bowl of flowers on the table, vivid yellow corncockles, which brightened the room like a patch of sunlight. "Try that easy chair," said Davenport, "it's uncommonly comfortable." Thanks, no," seating himself near the window, this will do very nicely. That's your chair, I know." "It is," sighed the old man sinking into its cushioned depths. It was Hettie's present on my last birthday. Poor child, she worked extra hard to save enough money to buy this chair from a broker in the Kmg's-road. It was a shabby old chair when I first saw it-but I was caught by the comfortable shape—and I told my poor girl I'd seen a second-hand chair that looked the picture of comfort. She didn't seem to take much notice of what I said, and the next time I passed the dealer's yard—where the chair used to stand in the open air amongst a lot of other things—it was gone. I told Hettie it had disappeared. 'Sold, I suppose,' said she 'what a pity And nearly a year afterwards, on my birthday, the chair was brought in, freshly covered, as you see it. My poor girl had been paying for it by degrees, a shilling or two at a time ever since I mentioned it to her. How proud and happy we both were that day, in spite of our poverty. I remember when I was at the University my brothers and sister and I clubbed together to buy a silver tea kettle for my mother on her silver wedding-day— and it only resulted;in general mortification. She was sorry we had spent our money—and she didn't like the shape of the kettle. It was half covered with a long inscription, so we couldn't change it, and I know two of my sisters were in tears about it before the day was over. But I must make you that lemon squash—nuc est bibandum. Perhaps, though, youd prefer a John Collins?" with a curiously interrogative look. "There isn't any gin in the house, but I could send for a bottle, if you like." "I much prefer the unsophisticated lemon; though I envy a city waiter the facility with which he made his name a part of the convivial vocabulary. Falstaff could not have done more." Mr Davenport opened one of the dwarf cup- boards and produced tumblers, lemons, and powdered sugar. Then he went out of the room, and reappeared in a few minutes with a jug of fresh water. His narrow means did not permit the luxury of a syphon. He concocted the two glasses of lemonade carefully and deliberately, Gerard Hillersdon watching him all the time in a melancholy reverie; but the image that filled his mind was that of the absent daughter, not the form of the father bodily present to his eye. He was thinking of yonder easy chair, paid for in solitary shillings, the narrow margin left from the bare necessities of daily life. He thought of that refined and delicate face, that slender fragile form, far too finely made for life's common uses— thought of her daily deprivations, her toilsome walks, her wearisome, monotonous work. Yes, there was the modern wheel upon which feminine poverty is racked-the sewing machine. It stood in front of the window by which he was sitting. She bad covered it with a piece of art muslin, giving an air of prettiness even to the instrument of her toil. A pair of delf candle- sticks stood on a little table near the machine, with the candles burnt low in the sockets. She had been working late last night, perhaps. It maddened him to think that out of all his wealth he could do nothing to help her—she would take nothing out of his superabundance. If he were to heed the appeals of all the strangers who wrote to him—pouring out their domestic secrets, their needs and troubles, in eight-page letters, he might give away every penny of his income—but this one woman, whom ne yearned to help, would take nothing. This was Fate's sharpest irony. He sipped his lemonade and discussed the political situation with Mr Davenport, whose chief occu- pation was to read the papers at the Free Library, and who was an ardent politician. He lingered in the hope of seeing Hester before he left. It was nearly four o'clock, and the June after- noon had a drowsy warmth which was fast beguil- ing old Nicholas Davenport into slumber. His words were coming very slowly, and he gradually sank into a blissful silence, and was off upon that jrapid dream-journey which takes the sleeper into a new world in an instant—plunges him among people that moment invented whom he seems to nave known all his life. A bee was humming amongst the sweet-scented stocks, and a town butterfly was fluttering about the mignonette. A hawker's cry in the next street came with a musical sound, as if the hawker had been some monotonous bird with a song of only three notes. Still Gerard lingered, hoping that the old man would wake presently and re- sume the conversation. He was in despair at the idea of leaving without seeing Hester. He wanted to see that delicately-modelled face —the face in the Sposalizio—in the daylight. He wanted to be her friend, if she would let him. What harm would there be in such a friend- ship? They were too completely severed by the iron wall of circumstances ever to become lovers. But friends they might be-friends for mutual help and comfort. He could share with her the good things of this life. She could spiritualise his lower nature by the influence of that child- like purity which set her apart from the common world. He heard a light footstep, and then the click of a latch. She was at the gate, she was coming in, a slim and graceful figure in a light cambric gown, and a sailor hat, such a neat little white straw hat, which cast pearly shadows on the ex- quisite cheek and chin, and darkened the violet eyes. She started and blushed crimson on seeing him, and cast a despairingly reproachful look at her father who had risen confusedly in the midst of a dream. Gerard had risen as she entered, and stood facing her. Don't be angry with your father or with me, Miss Davenport. We happened to meet each other an hour ago on the Embankment, and I walked home with him. And now that I am admitted to your home you will let me bring my sister, I hope. She will be glad to renew her old friendship with you. Do not hold her at arm's length, even if you shut your door against me. You know how sympathetic she is." Hester did not answer him for a minute or so. She sank into a chair, and took off the neat little sailor hat, and passed her hand across her brow, smoothing the soft rippling hair which shadowed the low, broad forehead. She looked tired and harassed, almost too weary for speech, and at last, when speech came, there was a langour in her tone, an accent as of one who submits to fate. Yes, I remember," she said, "your sister, was always good and sweet. She was very kind to me; some of my happiest hours were spent with her. But that is all past and done with. It is hardly kind of you to ask me to remember-" I don't want you to remember the old life. I only want you to open your heart to an old friend, who will help to make your present life happier. Lilian may come, may she not? I can see you mean yes." "How can I say no, when you are so eager to do me a kindness ?" and then she glanced at the old man piteonsly. "If father does not mind a face that will recall his residence at Helmsleigh and all he suffered there." No no, Hettie, I don't mind. I have suffered too much, and in too many places, since the Pain-devil stuck his claws into me. If the people who blame me-wbo talk of me as a drunken old dotard—could suffer an hour of the agony I have suffered off and on for months at a stretch, they would bo a little more charitable in their judgments. I am not blaming your father, Mr Hillersdon; he was very good to me. He bore with me as long as he could, till at last I disgraced myself. It was a terrible scandal; no man could bear up against it. I felt after that night all was over., <(P0n't, father, don't speak of it." ii ™ust' Hettie. I want to tell Mr Hillersdon all that you have been to me—what a heroine, what a martyr!" Nonsense, father I have only done what other daughters are doing all the world over. And thank Uod you are better now You have had very little of the old pain for the last two years. You are stronger and better, living as you do now, than when-when you were less careful. Your neuralgia will never come back again, I hope. 11 Hillersdon doesn't mind visiting us in this shabby lodging, we shall be very pleased to see her, sa,id Mr Davenport, brushing away a remorseful tear. It cuts me to the heart that my poor girl has not a friend in the world, exeept Lady Jane Twyford." His request being granted, Gerard had no excuse for delaying his departure. He offered his hand to Hester as he said good-bye, and when her slender fingers touched his own his cheek and brow flushed as if a wave of nre bad passed over his face, and his eyes grew dim; only for a moment, but that fiery wave had never clouded his vision at the touch of any other woman—not even Edith Champion, to whom he had given the devotion of years. His heart was beating violently as he walked along the shabby street, past gardens that were full of summer flowers, and forecourts that were no better than rubbish heaps; past squalid indigence and struggling poverty. It was not till he pulled up under the shadow of the trees in Cheyne Walk that the sensse of a great joy or a great trouble began to abate, and he was able to think calmly. He seated himself on a bench near the river, and waited till bis quickened pulses beat in a more tranquil manner. "lamafool," he muttered. Why should her beauty agitate me like this ? I have seen beauti- ful women before to day—women in the zenith of their beauty, not pallid and worn like this woman. The woman who is to be my wife is handsomer, and in a grander style of beauty. And yet, be- cause this one is forbidden fruit every nerve is strained, every pulse is racing. I am a fool, and the worst of fools, remembering what old Dr South told me. Is this sparing myself, is this husbanding my resources? To be so moved by such a trivial cause-not to be able to admire a beautiful face without being shaken as if by an earthquake." He remembered the book upon his writing table, the Peau de Chagrin," that story which had an irresistible fascination for him, every page of which he bad hung over many a night in hia hours of lonely thought. How vain had been Valentine's endeavour to lead the passionless life ;n which the oil in tho Umn burns slowlv. But he hoped to prove himself wiser than Balzac's ill-fated hero. He. too, had planned for himself an existence free from all strong emotions. In his life of millionaire and man of fashion there were to be no agitations. He looked forward to a future union with Edith as a haven of rest. Married to a woman whom he had loved long enough to take love for granted, a woman whose fidelity had been tested by time, whose constancy he need never doubt, for him life would glide softly on- ward with measured easy pace to sober middle age, and even to the grey dignity of wealthy and honoured age. But he, like valentine, had been warned against the drama and passion of life. He was to be, not to act or to suffer. And for a mere transient fancy, the charm of a pensive countenance, the romance of patient poverty, he had let his veins run liquid fire, his heart beat furiously. He was ashamed of his own inconsistency; and presently seeing a han- som sauntering along under the trees with a horse that looked a good mover, he hailed the man and asked if his horse were fresh enough to drive as far as Finchley. Naturally the reply was yes, and in the next minute he was being carried swiftly through the summer dust with his face to the north. He had often meditated this drive to the northern suburb with his own horses, and then it had seemed to him that to approach the house in which Mr Champion was lengthening out the lees of life would be an error in taste, although he and the dying man had been upon the friendliest terms since Edith's marriage. This afternoon he felt a curious eagerness to see the woman to whom he bad bound himself, a feverish anxiety which subjugated all scruples. He drove to the house Mrs Champion had hired for herself, a small villa, in a well kept garden. It was past eight when he rang the bell, and the lawn and flower beds were golden in the sunset. He expected to find Edith Champion at dinner, and had made up his mind to dine with her, tete a tete perhaps, for the first time in their lives. Dinner was out of the question-for the present, at any rate. One of the match footmen whose faces he knew in Hertford-street camestrolling in a leisurely way across the lawn, pipe in mouth, to answer to the bell, suddenly pocketed his pipe and changed his bearing on recognising Mr Hillersdon, and informed him that Mrs Champion was at Kendal House, and that Mr Champion was very bad. "Worse than usual, do you suppose?" asked Gerard. "I'm afraid so, sir. Mrs Champion came home at half-past seven, but a messenger come for her while she was dressing for dinner, and she just put on her cloak and ran across the road without even a hat. I'm afraid it's the end." Which is Kendal House ?" "I'll show you, sir." The footman stalked cut into the road with that slow and solemn stalk which is taught to footmen, and which is perhaps an element in the trade-unionism of domestic service-a studied slowness of movement in all things, lest per- chance one footman should at any time do the work of two. Mrs Champion's footman was a person of highest quality, and was even now oppressed with a sense of resentment at having to perform his duties single-handed at Finchley, while his fellow lacquey was leading a life of luxurious idleness in Hertford-street. He pointed out a carriage entrance in a wall a little further up the road, and on the opposite side of the way, and to this gate Gerard hurried and entered a highly-respectable enclosure, a circular lawn girt with gravel drive, shrubberies hiding the walls, and in front of him a stately square stone house with classic portico, and two wings, suggesting drawing-room and billiard- room. The first glance at those numerous windows gave him a shock. All the blinds were down. It was over, he thought. Edith Champion was a widow. Yes, it was over. The sober, elderly man servant who opened the door to him informed him that Mr Champion had breathed his last at five minutes to eight. Mrs Champion was just in time to be present at his last moments. The end had been peaceful and painless. Edith Champion came downstairs, accompanied by the doctor, while the servant was talking, her eyes streaming. She saw Gerard, and went across the hall to him. It is all over," she said agitatedly. He knew me at the last—knew me and spoke my name, just as I thought he would. Thank God I was there I was not too late for that last word. I did not think I could feel it so much, after those long days and weeks of anticipation." I Let me take you over to your own house," Gerard said, gently. She was in her dinner-dress of black gauze and silk, with a light summer cloak flung loosely about her,her white throat rising out of the gauzy blackness like a Parian column, her dark eyes drowned in tears, and tears still wet on her pale cheeks. All that was tender and womanly in her nature lrad been shaken by that final parting. If she had sold herself to the rich than as his slave he had been a most indulgent master, and her slavery had been of the lightest. The doctor attended her to the threshold, and she went out leaning on Gerard's arm. Even in the midst of her natural regret there was sweet- ness in the thought that henceforth she belonged to him. It was his privilege and his duty to protect her, to think for her in all things. You will telegraph to my husband's solicitor," she said to the doctor, falteringly, as ^he dried her tears. "He will be the'proper person to arrange everything with you, I suppose. I shall not leave the Laurels till after- "I understand," interrupted the doctor, saving her the pain of that final word. All shall be arranged without troubling you more than is absolutely necessary." Good night," she said, offering her hand. "I shall not forget how kind and thoughtful you always weDre. He could not have been better cared for." Gerard led her out of Áhe formal enclosure, where the conifers and evergreens were darken- ing under the shadows of night. The gate was open at the Laurels, and the stately footman was e on the watch for her, his powdered head bared to the evening breeze. Within there were lights and the brightness of flowers, dinner ready to be served. "You will take something, I hope?" said i • erard, when the butler announced dinner. They had gone into the drawing-room, and she was sitting with her face hidden in her hands. No, no, I could not eat anything." and then to the butler, "Mr Hillersdon will dine. You can serve dinner for him, and tell George to bring me some tea here." "Then let me have a cup of tea with you," said Gerard. "I am no more in the mood for dining than you are." This gratified her, even in the midst of her sorrows. Women have an exaggerated idea of the value which men set upon dinner, and no sacrifice propitiates them so surely as the sur- render of that meal. Edith Champion did not argue the point. She only gave a little sigh, and dried her tears, and became more composed. I think I did my duty to him," she said presently. "Most thoroughly. You made him happy, which is more than many a wife can say about a husband she has adored," answered Gerard. The footman brought in the tea table, and lighted the candles on the mantel-piece and piano, and drew the curtains, with an air of wishing to dispel any funereal eloom which the shadow of that dark event at Kendal House had spread over the room. He and the other servants had been talking about the funeral, and their mourning already, speculating as to whether Mr Champion had left legacies to such of his servants as had been with him, "say a year," concluded George, footman, who had been in the service fourteen months. Mrs Champion made a little motion of her hand towards the teapot, and George poured out the tea. She fet that the etiquette of grief would not allow her to perform that accustomed office. She sat still, and allowed herself to be waited upon, and sipped and sighed, while Gerard also sipped in pensive silence. He was thinking that this was the second time within a very few hours that he was taking tea with Edith Champion, and yet what a gap those few hours had cloven across his life. The woman he had loved so long, and to whom he had irrevocably pledged himself, was free from her bondage. There could be no longer doubt or hesitancy in their relations. A certain interval must be conceded to the prejudices of society and then, at the end of that ceremonial widow- hood this woman, whom he had loved so long, would lay aside her weeds, and put on herwedding- fown, ready to stand beside him at the altar, 'or months he had known that Mr Champion's end was imminent, and yet to-night it seemed to him as if he had never expected the man to die. The silence was growing oppressive before either the lady or her guest found speech. The footman had retired, leaving the tea-table in front of his mistress, and they were alone again. You will not remain in this house after the funeral, of course," said Gerard, having oast about for something to say. No. I shall leave England immediately. I have been thinking of my plans while you and I have been sitting here. I hate myself for my egotism but I could not go on thinking of him. It would do no good. I shall not easily forget him, poor fellow. His face and his voice will be in my thoughts for a long time to oome-but I could not help thinking of myself, too. -It seems 1;0 strange to be free-to be able to go just where J n—n0'i° °hliged to follow a routine. I shall go to Switzerland as soon as I oan get ready. I shall take Rosa Gresham with me. She is always enchanted to turn her back upon that adorable parish of hers." But why should you go away?" will best. If I were to stay in England you and I would be meeting, and now-now that he is gone people would rake up the past, and say ill-natured things about ns. It will be far better that we should see very little of each other till the year of my widowhood is over; » long time, Gerard, almost long enough for you to forget ae Her tone implied that such forgetfulness must, n^eds be impossible. What if I refuse to submit to suoh a separa- tion, even to propitiate Mrs Grundy We have treated that wortbrsonage in a very off-hand manner hitherto. Why should we begin to care about her?" -1 Bectuse everything is different now he is gone. While my husband approved my life nobody could presnme to take objection to any- thing I might do, but I stand alone now and must take care of my good name—your future wife's good name Gerard "Howsweetly you put the question. But my dear Edith, must we really be parted so long? Could people talk about us if you and I were living in the same town, seeing each other every day?" • You don't know how ill-natured people can be. Indeed, Gerard, it will be better for fc^h our sakes," Not for my sake," he said earnestly. He had gone to Finchley that evening upon a snd'W im!1nl. as if ho had be-n flying from an unimagined peril. He had felt, vaguely, as if his first love were slipping away from him, as if an effort were needed to strengthen the old bonds and now the woman who should have helped him to be true was about to forsake him-to sacrifice inclination and happiness to the babbling crowd. What can it matter bow people talk of us ?" he cried impetuously. We have to think of ourselves, and our own happiness. Remember how short life is, and what need we have to hus- band our brief span of years. Why waste a year, or half a year, upon conventionalties ? Let me go with you wherever you go. Let us be married next week." I I No, no, no, Gerard. God knows, I love you, only too dearly, but I will not be guilty of delib- erate disrespect to him who has gone. He was always good to me—kind and indulgent to a fault. I should have been a better wife, perhaps, if he had been a tyrant. I will n6t insult him in his grave. A year hence; a year from this day I shall belong to you And Mrs Grundy will have no fault to find with you. 'Content to dwell in decencies for ever,' quoted Gerard, with a touch of scorn. Well, you must have your own way. I have pleaded, and you have answered. Good night. I suppose I shall be allowed to bid you good-bye at the railway-station before you leave England ?" Of course. Rosa shall write to you about our plans directly they are settled. You will be at the funeral, Gerard, will you not ?' Naturally. Once more good night." They clasped hands, she tearful still, ready to break down again at any moment, and so he left her. The hansom bad waited for him, the horse's head in a nosebag, the driver asleep on his perch. Only a year, and you are mine as I am yours," mused Gerard, as he was driven westward. But a year sometimes makes a wide gap in a life. What will it do in mine ? (To be continued•)
WELSH MEMBERS AND THE LIQUOR…
WELSH MEMBERS AND THE LIQUOR TRAFFIO. At the annual meetings of the South Wales Temperance Association, held at Llandilo last week, Mr T. JONES PARRY asked the secretary how many Welsh members paired and how many were absent during the division on Mr Bowen Rowlands' Welsh Veto Bill. Rev MORRIS MORGAN replied that the Hon. F C. Morgan and Sir George Elliott bad paired against the bill, whilst the following members were absent:—Admiral Mayne, Mr Abel Thomas, Mr Kenyon, and Mr Rathbone. (Cries of Shame !") Since then, however, continued the secretary, Mr Abel Thomas had declared himself in favour of local option. Rev JOHN PCGH, Cardiff: He is fighting for publicans to-day. Mr T. JONES PARRY contended that no Welsh member should have been absent, unless by ill- health, at that division. (Cheers.) He had been present in the lobby of the House before the divi- sion, and one member—who had been courting the constituents of that county—had declared that his professional duties should not interfere with his Parliamentary duties, but when the day of battle came, when he ought to be present in the House, especially when he was returned by votes of temperance men, he not only was un- paired, but was absent altogether, and allowed his professional duties to interfere with his Parlia- mentary duties. The sooner Welsh M.P.'s knew how they (the people) felt about them the better. (Hear, hear.) He knew of several members who were present at that division at great personal inconvenience, one being Mr Fuller Maitland. (Hear, hear.) Rev MORRIS MORGAN wished to give a further explanation to the meeting, and said that in reply to a resolution which was adopted at Ammanford and forwarded to Mr Abel Thomas, the latter said that he was not aware until then that his name did not appear amongst the pairers, and that he had communicated with the Liberal whip requesting him to procure a pair in favour of the bill, and that he could not attend because of his professional duties in Cardiff, Mr Bowen Rowlands and himself being engaged in several important cases together, aud that it was necessary one of them should remain in Cardiff. Mr T. JONES PARRY replied that he still adhered to what he said—he would not withdraw a single word. (Cheers.) He (the speaker) had specially drawn Mr Thomas's attention to the second reading; and when he was told that he did not think he woix, 'I be able to attend owing to his duties at Cardiff Assizes. Mr Parry said he informed Mr Thomas that the English people were exceedingly anxious that every Welsh mem- ber should be in his place to tight for the second reading, but notwithstanding that he was absent and unpaired. (Shame.) The speaker was then about to move a resolution, when TheCHAiRMAN ruled that he could not do so when the report was before them. He could either add or withdraw from the resolution. He had allowed Mr Parry to speak, and would allow it to go to the press, but he could not move a resolution. r Mr JONES PARRY said he did not care as long as he had the resolution in somewhere. (Laughter and cheers.) The resolution read as follows :— That this Conference deeply regrets the action of Welsh M.P.'s in absenting themselves from Parlia- ment and not pairing on the occasion of the second reading of Mr Bowen Rowland's Direct Veto Bill, as it regards the Bill of supreme importance to the people of Wales, and that a copy of this resolution be sent to the honourable members in question. The Rev MORRIS MORGAN said the resolution could not be incorporated in the report; and this was confirmed by the Chairman. Mr BINGHAM (London): Is Monmouthshire included in Mr Bowen Rowland's Bill ?. Yes" was the reply given. Mr BINGHAM further asked: It is not under the Welsh Sunday-closing Act ?-" No" was the reply. The report was then adopted, after which Mr T. JONES PARRY formally moved his resolution. Rev T. GRIFFITHS, Nantgwredry, seconded briefly. Rev REES EVANS, Llanwrtyd, expressed full sympathy with the resolution, but thought it should be a little milder. He did not want to include all the Welsh members in it; they had never before had a better lot representing the Principality. (Applause.) Rev J. F. GRIFFITHS (Aberavon) would like to see the resolution even more strongly worded than it was—in its present form it was too nuld. (Laugh.) In fact tney ought to name the sinner. (Renewed laughter.) They have looked to Llan- dilo to choose a. member that would be apace with the demands of the age. (Hear, hear.) He thought they should insert in the resolution that they were disappointed with its member. (Hear, hear.) The CHAIRMAN said they should not be too The CHAIRMAN said they should not be too severe upon anyone. They did not want to hurt anybody, but they wanted to save sinners and not diive them away. (Applause). He was perfectly acquainted with the circumstances of the case, and why the hon. member had been unable to leave the quarter sessions at Cardiff. He was, indeed, afraid once that Mr Bowen Rowlands would be unable to go from Cardiff for the division, and if Mr Abel Thomas had been the means of enabling him to go there he was half inclined to forgive him, because it would be unfortunate indeed if Mr Rowlands had been unable to attend. They should not be hard upon him. Rev Mr SALMON (Llansadwrn) thought that Mr Thomas's name should be mentioned in the reso- lution, so that he should have an opportunity to publicly clear himself. Rev Monrus MORGAN moved as an amendment that the resolution should read that the Associa- tion thanked those members who had voted in favour of the Bill, but regretted that the mem- bers in question neither voted or paired. That would be more comprehensive. Mr J ONES PARRY wanted his resolution to stand or fall upon its merits. A vote of thanks could be given to the other members independent of his resolution. If they were going to have local option in Wales these members should be taught a lesson. Rev J. ROGERS, Burry Port, seconded the amendment, warmly contending that they should not be so hard upon Mr Thomas, whom he knew was fully alive to the interests of his constituents. (Cheers.) The CHAIRMAN then asked Mr Parry if he was prepared to accept this ? Mr PARRY expressed his readiness to do so with a few slight modifications in the original resolution, which ultimately read as follows :— That this Conference deeply regrets the action of Welsh M.P.'s who either absented themselves from Parliament or did not pair on the occasion of Mr Bowen Rowland's Direct Veto Bill, as it regards that Bill of supreme importance to the people of Wales and that a copy of this resolu- tion be sent to the honourable members in ques- tion." The resolution as amended was then carried with acclamation. BARRISTERS AND THE BREWSTER SESSIONS. Mr D. MORGAN, schoolmaster, Llandilo, in moving the following resolution said they could not but be struck with the fact that barristers who were taking part in brewster sessions for publicans had previously expressed themselves in favour of local option, amongst them being even members of Parliament. They went to these meetings to undo a great deal more than they had promised to do. The resolution was as follows That this Conference reprobates the applications for licences for convicted or new houses at the licensing sessions by M.P.'s, who, without the support of the Temperance party, would not have been elected. (Applause.)—This was seconded by the Rev J. J. Evans, Ebbw Vale, and supported by the Rev Professor Prys, Trevecca College, who said that they should in future have men to represent them who would be above suspicion there were plenty such men in Wales to serve them, and they were no longer going to put up with those men who were undoing what the Temperance party was doing, (Hear, hear,)—The resolution was then unanimously adopted.
A POLIOEMAN WHO COULDN'T 'h"REMEMBER.
A POLIOEMAN WHO COULDN'T 'h" REMEMBER. Police-constable 503 2!is a person wbois-possessed either of a remarkable memory for forgetting, or else of a bashfulness so sensitive that he refuses to utter a word calculated to "^ng a blush to the face of a metropolitan magistrate. Arrayed in all the authority which his uniform confers, he brought before the magistrate at the West London Court an urchin whom he accused of using improper language in SI bbing-?treet, Notting mil. What did he say ? queried Mr Curtis Bennet. I cannot say," replied the prosecutor. But you charge him with an offence," continued the magistrate. "What did he say?" 503 X scratched his bead, but answered nothing. Do you know what he said ? was the next question. The policeman, with becoming candour, admitted that he did not, and the magistrate at once dis- charged the boy. What strange hallucination induced an officer of a well-disciplined division of of police to charge a fellow-subject with an offence of which he knew nothing remains a psychological Bmtery although it was certainly better to admit ignorance than to draw nmn imaannation.
[PUBLISHED BY AUTHORITY.]…
[PUBLISHED BY AUTHORITY.] EDLEEN VAUGHAN, — Or, PATHS OF PERIL, BY CARMEN SYLVA, (Her Majesty the Queen of Roumania). Author of The Witch's Citadel," "Legends of the Carpathians," "Thoughts of a Queen," "Roumanian Fairy Tales," Out of Two Worlds," &c., &c. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] CHAPTER XXVII.—JOINED IN WEDLOCK. Perhaps it was a welcome discovery to Kath- leen that her heart had been roused from its chilly torpor at last, and beat with the quick pulse of early youth, and even with dangerous violence for the fresh young man who had known I how to stir it. The vain, coquettish girl had be- come a brilliant, much admii-ed woman but her heart was empty and her life a dreary waste. Jewels ancr dresses, travelling and social pleasures could not mitigate tho intense weariness which pervaded all her days like drizzling rain, doubly grey and monotonous after the tempestuous times of her first youth. If you knew," she told Robert, what it is to have to be grateful where one despises, you would pity me. Why should you despise ?" "I despise a man who suffers the greatest misery to approah his hearth, only because he shrinks from the expense of a few shillings that might avert it. I have witnessed that, step by step. I think you are wrong, Mr Vaughan. He is far-sighted only in one direction, like an astronomer, and does not see what passes in the dark around him." "There you are right," Whed Kathleen. Vaughan had made a mistake when he thought to atone by offering the two whose lives had been ruined at his bouse a tolerably pleasant existence under his roof. He was not made to understand his fellow-creatures and their feelings. But he bore the grievous consequences of his mistakes with heroic patience, never murmuring or com- plaining. He had only grown old and grey with them. His passion for financial combination had sur- vived every other feeling, however, and even grown intenser, if that were possible. In this respect he was still the powerful man whom Robert had justly compared to an astronomer. He was not actuated by any desire to secure his children further wealth he had no care of that. It was the employment of his strength and genius which gave him pleasure. Happy the man who possesses a talent. Life can never appear fully crushed to him. For when he has lost everything else, his talent remains, claiming his work and interest, regardless of his broken heart, his destroyed existence, and, what is worst of all, his hopelessness. A talented man can do without hope. For to him everything is fact and reality, and he sees enough in the present to make him independent of the future. The un- initiated often marvel at his stonv indifference in private life, and his redoubled ardour for public activity, from which no personal feeling can any longer divert his atten- tion. v eughan had risen to a materially higher position in the city, and many envied him his good fortune. No one saw him when he sat brooding for hours before Edleen's picture, re- proaching himself, and wrestling with the tortur- ing doubt which he was too proud to solve. Sometimes, at night, he called aloud to her, and when the cry of the sea-gulls answered him at early dawn, he was seized with almost supersti- tious fear. He knew that Kathleen had regretted the loss of the jewellery and other trifling property she had sacrificed for her cousin, and he fancied he had fully indemnified her, especially as he had liberally provided for her future in his will. For he had not expected to live long after the sorrow which destroyed his life. He had not taken the talent into account, which retained its hold on active existence and subdued his very misery He did not even attempt to interest Kathleen in his work: for he had no wish to begin a new existence. Thus he suffered her to do whatever gave her pleasure, and drew great profit from the lustre with which she knew to surround herself. Her behaviour was always faultless, and it could only flatter his pride if she was courted by a swarm of admirers. In Wales, their continual intercourse with the Gwynnes seemed so natural that he had no sus- picion of the warfare which was daily carried on under his eyes, and never noticed that Robert had gradually won his way into Kathleen's heart. He had, indeed, never thought about her heart at all. He believed it to be as dead as his own, and exhorted her to prudence and caution with a view to a later good match. The idea that he might perhaps survive her never occurred to him. And yet it is no new thing for a husband to survive a wife whose father he might have been. Kathleen had only wanted to revenge herself on Winmennd Morgan for their contempt of her. Besides, the emptiness of her own. life could not brook such happmessin another's. But when Robert began to pay her attention, she noticed for the first time that he really was much more handsome and interesting than Mor- gan, whom she had always thought tedious. It also gave her pleasure to torment the latter in a new fashion, by flirting with his brother before his very eyes. But when one plays with fire, one is as Jikely as not to burn one's fingers, and she soon found ont that Robert had become indispen- sable to her happiness. He was to her as a fresh spring whose ripple recreated her hs could tell endless stories of his adventures and experiences, and he was so well-built and elastic that she was continually watching his movements whether she would or not. The sweetness of growing passion was doubly delightful after tho long, hopeless dulness that had preceded it, after her first pitiful failure, and she abandoned herself recklessly to it, certain of her impunity. Vaughan was almost alwavs in London, and in the seclusion of sea and moun. tains she felt herself secure and unobserved. 8aw Wlth daily increasing satisfaction that his game prospered and his snare had not been laid m vain. It was a bitter jov, however, lor he wa3 thinking of Winnie all the time, see- ing her grow thin and dispirited. He often felt as if he must shake Morgan, as if he must deal J ntlc blows to rouse him to a sense of the good fortune which he was blindly treading under his teet. He took care to let him seethe progress he himself was making in Kathleen's favour, and hurried on the wedding as muoh as it was in his power. At last an early day in spring was fixed for it. On the eve of the wedding day there was great merry-making at the vicarage, the young people ^fch each other in funny inventions. reaay made his appearance in the guise of a clown, surpassing himself in agility, wit, and quickness. When good nights were exchanged at last, Robert offered himself as an escort to Kathleen, who insisted on going home on foot. 1 he whole party accompanied them to the park gate, and the lonely pair heard their laughter ringing through the night as they made their way back to the vicarage. Marty 11 and Gladys went in the carriage with Vaughan, who could not walk much, anS Kath- leen was in no hurry, for she knew that nobody would wait for her, and that Vaughan would not know when she returned. It was during this walk that Robert elicited a full confession of her from her, and the young man really needed all his strength of purpose not to succumb to her passionate loveliness. But he had sworn to avenge Winnie-—he would avenge her and secure her happiness for ever. Her delicate face hovered before his eyes while Kathleen was casting the showing fire of her love at his feet. She broke off suddenly, surprised to have no word of exultation—to feel no answering pressure when she threw herself upon his breast. lo-morrow," said he, just before the wedding, I shall wait for you in the crypt of the church, and there I will answer you. Good evening. He went his way, and she stood at her garden door, motionless with alarm and surprise. She could not find a moment's sleep that night —she turned restlessly on her couch, or walked about, racking her brain to discover what could have induced Robert to quit her at the very moment when she had surrendered her heart and her soul to him. Early next morning she went down to the beach to obliterate the traces of her sleepless night. A he sea was heaving angrily, the breeze blew cold, and the seagulls screamed above her '?, ) • sPlnts in distress. Never had the sea- guils cries seemed so repulsive to her, while the beautiful creatures showed white and grey against the blue sky, like Japanese decorations, or dipped into the frothy waves and sailed over a out-spread wings and invisible feet. Suddenly she became aware that someone was standing beside her. Ah, yes," said Temorah, that's my baby's voice. Kathleen hears it scream because of the burning names, but she does not return because she wants to run after Tom. Do you hear how, it screatns ? Do save it I Oh, do save it! Can t you tell me where Kathleen is V Temorah S her ear and grasped her arm. a or 1 want to curse her for burning my child. Yes, win curse her; she is a witch. I will nail wdiere she^s^°^er a cross» Can't yon tell me Kathleen trembled with terror, but she took courage to say: ««Kathleen has gone to London ahe is not here." Tamorah laughed. That is not true. I saw her last night with Tom, and she said: I love y™. •fj111, ^ill marry you, Tom.' Yes, indeed, she said so. And that is why I will nail her on my mother's cross; she may kiss his name on it timber lips grow numb. But first I must finish my washing. Do you hear how my baby screams ? jAt last she loosed her iron grasp on Kathleen's arm, and the latter felt as if she must stagger and sink to the ground. But in a little while the breeze revived her. She thought the sea- gulls cry really sounded like an infant's wailing. She turned away and slowly walked up to the house, where she would be secure from further intercourse with the mad woman. At the vicarage all were assembled in Gwynne's study, an Morgan was reading the morning prayer. •' u ni^e Pegged him to do so. He read with that melodious voice of his, which so strongly resembled his father's. As he read, on strongly resembled his father's. As he read, on this bis wedding day, he thought with deep emotion of the thorny path he had trodden, of the heart-breaking hours he had passed in this very room and when he looked up and en- countered Winnie's unfathomable eyes, he promised her in his haart thnt ho w0.,1,-1 I." to her, and make her as happy as one can be on earth. Now, my child, it is time to dress," said Mrs Gwynne. But first kneel down here, where t ather has loved and taught you, and let me bless you in his name." The solemnity of the occasion had to yield awhile to the hub-bub of dressing in the bed- rooms. Maggie was very awkward to-day; if Lizzie had not lent a helping hand, Mrs Gwynne would never have got Winnie ready. Robert was the first to come down, and saun- tered slowly towards the church in his pretty seaman's dress. He looked particularly dashing on this morning, with a sparkle in his dark eyes and a strained expression on his features which might have betrayed his secret excite- ment to anyone who had had time to look at him. He was dallying behind the church when the Vaughan carriage drove up; he heard Kathleen ask Vaughan to drive on to the house, as she wished to speak to the gardener and see whether the altar was decorated in the way she had desired. He saw her alight in a dahlia- coloured velvet gown, which set off her white skin and black hair to perfection. She had never been so beautiful, and she knew it. She glided with light steps through the church, down to the crypt, whose moss-grown walls had been cut in the living rock and received their only light from above—a magic ray, which played on the glossy folds of Kathleen's dress and threw dis- tinct shadows on the rocks behind her. Robert gazed at her awhile before she knew of his presence then he sprang down the steps, the light sound of his footfall dying away in the vast place like the dropping of autumn leaves, and suddenly stood before her. Hero I am," said Kathleen. But I do not know what for." I know," returned Robert, looking at her. Are time and place not strangely chosen ? she asked. Not for what I have to say." What have you to say ?" she asked, in a tone of vague apprehension. I have to tell you that I have never loved you, not for a single hour that I have loved and shall love but one woman in all my life. That woman is Winnie. I had sworn to protect her from you, and to revenge her upon you. And now, I bid you farewell for ever, for my way lies across the sea. And I advise you not to play with men's hearts anymore; you know that sorceresses have ever been destroyed by fire. That is what I had to say, Kathleen and so farewell, and forget if you can. Just then t: Ie ringing of the bells pealed through the church, and Kathleen felt as if the very rock beneath her feet were shaking with the sound. Is that all ? she asked in a low voice. AH. I have nothing else to say." He vanished as quickly as he had come. But short as; the interview had been, Gladys' eldest boy, who had been running after idolised Uncle Robert, had had time to see him emerge from the crypt, and communicated the interesting fact to his father in Mr Vaughan's presence. And," added the little fellow, I saw a lady in a lovely violet gown standing below like a picture, I did indeed ? Martyn tried to hush the child. But Vaughan had already walked away. He descended to the crypt with heavy steps. There stood Kathleen, her handkerchief between her teeth, her bloodless hand grasping the mossy rock, as white and still as marble. She looked at Vaughan as he came towards her, but she did not move. "I thought I had begged you," he began in an icy tone, to preserve your dignity and mine as long as I lived. That was the only condition I made. It does not suit me to get into people's mouths here. We shall start for London this afternoon." He turned and left her. Kathleen had slightly bent her head and stood looking, with an expres- sion of ineffable repugnance about her eyes and lips, after the old man who had a right to speak such words to her. And the bells were rineing all the time. When he was about to mount the steps Vaughan looked back. Well," he said, are you not coming ? Do you mean to stay hare during the ceremony and wilfully set all idle tongues wagging 1 1 wish you to appear by my side. Don't you hear me, Kathleen ?" As she did not stir, he made a few steps tc- wards her again. But the idea of his fetching her was so intolerable that she shook off her stupot and came slowly forward, much as if one of the pillars that supported the church were moving along. The bells were pealing joyfully, and just as Kathleen entered the church, the bridal train appeared at its wide-open door. Mrs Gwynne in her dignified widow's garb, Llewellyn, tall and snow-crowned, like Snowdon himself, the bridegroom, whose sunken eyes told cf long and weary mental struggles. Winnie, a living fairy tale, Gladys in the full beauty of blooming womanhood, a garland of fresh girlish faces and slender forms clad in white and decked with flowers, Martyn, and Robert, Ned and Freddy, the twins with Gladys' children, the farmers and miners from far and naar. Kathleen stood like a marble image, and saw the church fill, and saw Martyn's eye fixed searehingly and disapprovingly upon her. and saw Robert, whose Eale face was turned towards Winnie, and saw ilewellyn, and thought of the Green Lake. Why, oh why had he preserved her life ? What had that bygone misery been, compared to the racking, furious pain of this hour, which she was forced to conceal under her velvet and diamonds ? A wild idea darted through her head, that she would rush up to Robert and kiss him before all the congregation, or beat her brains out this in- stant against the nearest pillar. The beautiful singing sent a horror through her limbs, sound- ing in her ears like the howling of the lost. She thought of the seagulls' cries, and of Ulla, and of Temorah's cottage, and that she was nailed to her cross this very hour, as securely as Temorah could have desired. Ay, Winnie was avenged, cruelly avenged, and the vengeance nearly cost the avenger and the offender their lives. Robert," whispered Martyn, "are you ill ?" "No, why?" Don't you want to get away ?" "Yes, please, directly the ceremony is over." "Very well. Robert, I fear youv'e been play- ing with fire." Oh, no, I've fought a battle, and came off victorious—can't you see that ?" You. victorious ?'' Oh, yes, but wounded too. I shan't fight many more battles of this kind." father," said Winnie, when she embraced Vaughan after the wedding, "father, Morgan says I am to give you this letter, which I found in my mother's hymn-book; he thinks it will console you and set your heart at rest. But do not open it before you are quite alone with mamma's picture in your own room." And then the newly-wedded pair drove away southward, where Winnie's love was to flourish amongst orange trees and roses, like some rare flower that blooms but once in a hundred years. Vaughan and Kathleen left for London, and Kathleen was never seen again in Wales. Robert declared he must go back to sea immediately the land air made him sicken. Freddy decided to go with him and turn sailor likewise, and Ned had chosen the medical profession. So the Vaughan house stood empty, and the vicarage sank into deep, peaceful stillness, which was but transiently broken by the ringing of the old church bells, when Missy's faithful heart was borne to eternal rest, and when the fair daughters of the house became blooming and excellent wives. It was a. happy day when, after an absence of a year and a half, Morgan and Winnie came home radiant, as if their honeymoon had but just begun. They had brought heaps of photographs with hem, and were extremely interesting na rrators to told and young, Winnie presenting all they had seen in the gorgeous colouring of her powerful imagination, Morgan quietly making it accessible to the simplest childish mind. At Rome. in the Coliseum, they had hardly known one day why the atmosphere suddenly seemed to grow so chill around them, until they had recognised Kathleen, who fixed a glooinv, ice-cold look upon them as she stood with her hand on Vausrnan's arm, the latter appearing younger, stronger, harder, and very impatient to get back to his work. "Poor Kathleen said Llewellyn, musingly; but he was roused from his short reverie by an unusual sound—a ringing laugh from Morgan. Morgan's face brightened wonderfully whenever Winnie was spoken of, and Winnie looked a little less spiritual. She bad grown strong and healthy, and Martyn noted her improved looks with great satisfaction, while Llewellyn declared he could die in peace, now he knew his darling was happy. As he said this, a deep soft voice was heard singing outside: h Now give me you kerchief to wash out your tears, And break you of weeping and sighing; For though you believed you would die of your grief, Your grief and the moments are Bying. "IYour eyes will be bright, and your heart will be still, Forgotten its fault and its yearning, Forgotten the fire and the passionate pain That once in your bosom were burning. "Forgotten the curse and the blood on your feet That told of your pitiful faring— Your curse to the winds, and your blood to the soil, And flowers where you wandered despairing." Morgan and Winnie exchanged a deep, long look, such a look as sky and sea fix on each other when, after a stormy night, day breaks rosy and radiant, and no one can tell whether the sea has merged into the sky, or the sky into the sea, so completely do they blend in the calm, inde- finable lustre. The voice died away in the growing darkness. "That was Temorah," said fartyn; she is more cheerful now than I have ever seen her. She fancies she possesses all that she has loved." And do we not possess all we have loved ?" said Llewellyn. It is oar fault if we give it up for lost. We possess it as long as the blood throbs in our veins." Mrs Gwynne looked up at him from the pictures she was examining, with a radiant smile. She had acquired the touching beauty of advanced age that brings a,bannony with it, to which youth would vainly aspire. She gazed upon the bloom- ing band of children and grandchildren around her, and said very softly A sunset like this bore witness how fair the day had been." [THE END.]
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A GIFT TO ALL FBSE.—TO introduce it I will send genuine information free of charge to all those who are bona-fide sufferers from Chronic Kidney and Liver Diseases, Diabetes, or Bright's Disease, or any discharges or derangements of the human body, dropsy, nervous weakness, general debility, gravel, rheumatism, sciatica, lassitude, loss of memory, or want of brain power. The discovery is a new, cheap, and sure cure, the simplest remedy on earth, as found in the Missis- sippi Valley.—Send a self-addressed stamped envelope to James Jlolland, 25, Hart-street, High IJolbmi!, P;Y1t""n thh: -it,er. 14õQ2
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Dymunir i'n gohebwyr Cymreig gyfeirio eu goheb- iaethau, liyfrau i'w hadolygu, &c., fel y canlyn: Dafydd Morgamcg, Morganwg House, Llantwit- street, Cardiff.
BARDDONIAETH.
BARDDONIAETH. CYMMYLAU GWYNION. Mor ddel yn nghol awelon—a gemawg Gymmyl dysglaer-wynion; A chrogant uwch yr eigion,— Badau aur— cerbydau Ion. Trawsfynydd. L. JONTES.
CYFFES YR AFRADLON.
CYFFES YR AFRADLON. Fy arian am oferedd—a weriais Yn wirion y llynedd Eleni, mewn sal annedd— Gwael fy ngwisg, gwelw fy ngwedd. MTNTDDFAB.
CADEIRIAD CYNWYD,
CADEIRIAD CYNWYD, Yn Ferndale, am ei Awdl i Wirionedd." Canodd ieuano Awen ddiwyd,—A wen gain, Eneidiol, goeth hefyd, I'w chrwn wych aer, ni cha weryd, Gwirioncdd a geir ynddi gyd. Wele fardd, lienor hefyd,— gwreiddiol yw Graddau'i len newydabryd • o ddifrif, awenydd hyfryd, Eangodd ei barch yn ngwydd byd. Hwnt ei dalent hudoledd—difrif aeth Hyd fro fawr unigedd; A grawnwin F Oicirionedd Dynai i'r wlad yn wir wledd. Hawdd gurodd ddwy gawraidd awen,—o'u Aeth a r maes yn llawen [mysg Daeth i'w law, drwy deithi'i len, Y Gadair gyda'r goden. Cenad hedd boed Cynwyd hyd—ddwyoes dda, Oes o dduwiol fywvd, A fo'n sylfaen oes eilfyd, Oes dan bwys daioni byd. Ynys.hir. DEWI Hintwro.
PRIODAS
PRIODAS Mr Benjamin Harries, grocer, Commercial-road, Casnewydd-ar-Wysg, S Miss Lloyd, Blaenafon. Harries anwyl, tori'n àdarnRU Garchar cryf unigedd wnest, Gan roi arnat grvfach rwymau— Rhwymau'r fodrwy aur a ge'st; Bydded fod y nerthol undeb Hwn mor bur a'th fodrwy aur, A fjharhaed yn ei ddysgleirdeb Nes d'od haul eich dydd i'w gaer. Gwelaist nerth y geiriau hyny, Sef, "nad da bod dyn ei hun," Ac, yn nerth y gredo, mynu Wnaethost wir ymgeledd dyn. Nid yw meddu tai ac eiddo, Aur ac arian ami ri', Heb fod genym un i'w rhifo, Yn un cysur, coeliaf fi. Bycl heb arncan iddo ydyw Byd hen lane ar hyd ei oes; Ond fe fynoda Harries heddyw Amcan iddo'i hun a roes Nid oedd byw o'r blaen yn fywyd, Heddyw bywyd yw i gyd Rhyw farwolaeth oer a rhynllyd, Oes anffrwythlon ar ei hyd." Pan yn newid amgylchiadau, Cyfnewidir enwau rhai; Nid Miss Lloyd, byth inwyach, ffrindiau, Harries, bellach, ydyw'r ddau Ac nid oes ond eleddyf angau Fedr dori'ch modrvvy'n ddwy Hir y byddo'n gron heb fylchau, Pell pob draen a phell pob clwy'. Canu wnaf, Hawddamor ichwi, Gwenau Duw fo'n gwynu'ch taith; Iechyd perffaith. llwydd a mawrfri, Cynydd, bendith ar eich taith A phan doro'r undeb Draw ar derfyn eit'na'ch dydd, Gwisgo eto'r enw Harries Ar eich ol rliyvv Ki a fydd. Pur unwyd y par anwyl—ag asiad, Teg oes f'o eu hegwyl; A gwarchod Duw eu gorchwvl Yn neis lawn hyd eu nos wyf. Casnewydd. IOAN- DDERWHN" 0 FON.
Y BWTHYN AR Y BRYN.
Y BWTHYN AR Y BRYN. Draw mi welaf brydferth fwthyn Yn addurno bron y bryn, Mae ei wisg yn hardd a chlaervryn, Megis maen o farmor gwyn; Prvdferth yw y bwthvn ceinwedd, Gorlawn o farddonol swyn Ffrydlif fyw o bur hyawdledd I'r awenydd mae yn ddwyn. Gwenu'n siriol ar y lleohwedd, Mewn dystavvrwydd mae y bwtb, Heibio iddo mewn unigedd A y nant gan chwareu'i chrwth lion i'w gwyneb gwydraidd Wna y swynol fwthyn cun, Ceisia. wel'd ei tbanau glwysaidd, Ond ni wel ond ef Gi hun. Mae'i simniau imi'n harddach Na phinaclau gorwveh, drud, Ei ffenestri sydd yn Toetfadi Na phalasau gwychaf byd Mae y derw good o'i Rmyloh Fe1 gwarcheidiol engyl lu; Ghvysion berthi amgylch ogvlch bwthvn en. Y man adar lion ymgasglant, Fel i'w swyno cerdd, Wrth ei c1drws mewn têr ogoniant Mae y lwydlas ywen werdd; Tlvsion flodau eneiniodig, A balmeidiol wlith y wawr, Wna adloni'r bwthvn unig A'u nardu?aidd hyfryd sawr. Heibio iddo :1 yr awel, Chwery gerdd ar danau'r coed, Gwrendy yntau arnrn dawel Fel pe'r gyntaf dro crioed ? Yn ei symledd mae'r prydferthwch Yra'r awen braidd yn syn huan mewn digrifweh Ar y bwthyn ar y bryn. A ffyrnigrwydd ymosodol Bu ystormydd brochus, erch, Arno'n rhnthro'n ddialeddol, Fel am bwthyn derch Yn ddi^yfl ar ei wadnau Gwenu'n siriol amynt fyn, Dewr goncwerwr stormydd oesau Yw y bwthyn ar y bryn. Felinfoel. CAEODTN.
YR EISTEDDFOD GERDDOROL.
YR EISTEDDFOD GERDDOROL. Y n wir, dymardestyn! ond testyn go sur, Waith hwn ydyw testyn braidd pawb drwy y tir; Mae'n destyn rlingorol, a digon o dan,— Mae'r testyn yn burion, mae'n destyn ar Giln. Mae'r testyn yn destyn go gyflawn mewn hyd, A hwn ydyw'r testyn sy'n fri yr holl fyd; Os ydych heb gredu, gofynwch i 'nhad, Waith hwn ydyw testyn testynau'r holl wlad. Dyne. ddigon o'r testyn—a thipyn dros ben, Mae'r testyn yn ddigon, ac yna'r Amen. Y testyn enynodd ei filoedd yn dan Sydd heddyw yn marw heb hawl ar y GAn Yn mynwent gwaradwydd y cleddir ei fri, Nid oes iddo niwyach ei le gyda ni; Yn ofer ymdrwsia, mae Cymru i gyd Yn hawlio cyfiawnder yn ngwyneb y byd. Wel, gwell ydyw gadael y testyn yn awr, Er myn'd i'r Eisteddfod i eistedd I lawr. M1te'r Llvwydd yn gwaeddi â digon 0 nerth, Os na cheir dystawrwydd £ i'r cyfan ar werth Dirwynodd yr amser I ddechreu y gwaith. Mae pobpeth yn barod, a'r prwygraff yn faith Yn wir dewch'n :1.wr fechgyn, gofaled pob un, Dros amser'r Eisteddfod, am fusnes ei hun. Ceir Can yn y boreu i ddechreu yn iawn, Mae hyny yn well nag Anerchiad di-ddawn, A hono yn Seisneg,—wel, beth am yr iaith, Os ceir un yn Seisneg, heb fod yn un faith? Beth well fyddai'r dyrfa o ddeall yr oil ? Mae'n rhaid i ryw gyfran o hyd fyn'd ar golL Ond, cofiwch, bwyllgorau, fe erys y faith, Mai ymgais am arian yw amcan eich gwaitb. Ond dacw rhyw fachgen i'r Uwyfan, fel dyn, A thra mae yn canu mae'n oolh ei fun— # A oholli ei wobr—yn coiled i gyd,— Mae hyna yn ddigon. Fw golli o'r byd Mae colli y wobr yn gelled go Sin, Ond beth ydyw hyny at golli ei fun ? Ac, hefyd, mae'n colli y dagrau yn awr— Yn wir nid heb achos, mae'r golled yn fawr! Fel wedi llwyr flino, fe gododd nhadcu, A dywedodd yn ddystaw fel hyn wrthyf fl— Paid aros yn hir yn Eisteddfod y Own, Waith nid oes dim byd i'w gael yma ond swn; Nid oes dim ond canu ar brocirammc mor faith, Sef canu, o ddechreu hyd derfyn y daith Mae canu wrth ganu yr unpeth o hyd Yn ddolur i galon llenorion y byd." Mae'r dyrfa o brysur yn awr'n amlhau, A'r gwobrau crogedig yn myned yn llai; Mae unpeth pur bwysig yn aros ei dro, Sef can punt o wobr am ddilyn y "Doh." Mae'r dyrfa yn gwasgu at feirniad y dydd, Pob un ar ei oreu am glywed pwy fydd Y Cor ga'r anrhydedd o gario yn ol Y gadair a'r arian tua thre' yn ei goL Mae'r Beimiad yn oodi, a'r dorf gydag ef, A phob un yn barod i godi ei lef,— Ni waeth pwy yw'r goreu, ei enw yw r pwnc, Er mwyn i Hwre i gael dianc trwy llwno < Y mae'r arweinyddion yn crynu bob nn- Yn edrych yn atheist, a'u hagwedd yn flin; Golygfa druenus ca'r beirmad, yn wir, Holl hanes ei fywyd, a rhagor, oyn hir. Ond dyna y goreu o ddigon," medd ef, Y tro hwn, beth bynag, yw Cor Mawr y Dref. Mae'r corau i gyd wedi canu yn dda; Ond dyna'r Cor goreu o ddigon." Na, na Ar hyn dyus. ffloeddio, Hwre!" ac Hvre 1" Nes siglo'n beryglus gadernid y lie; Mae ereill yn gwaeddi, Agorwch y ddor!" Er mantais i gario Arweinydd y Cor. O'r diwedd fe ddaeth yr Eisteddfod i ben, A diolch am gyfle i roi yr Amen. Ar ol cyrhaedd gartref, gofynodd nhadcu— A gefaist ti rywbeth oles ynddi hi 1" Wel, na chefais i yno ddtm-ditn ond stm, 'Run fath a dydd hela, wrth ganlyn y own. Nid oes gobaith mwy am Eisteddfod y wlad, Os na cheir un help 1 hyrwyddo'i rhyddhad." Wel, beUach rhaid tewi, daeth diwedd y G&o* Mae pobpeth yn oeri, diffoddodd y tin. Cymerwcb ddysgeidiaeth, bwyllgorau, i nd. Anghofiwch y testyn—fe'i collir o'r byd, I gyd oil yn fuan, mae gobaith yn awr, Ein hyder yw cael yr arferiad i lawr; Am hyny ymdrechwn, mae Cymru yn daft 0 blaid ei L^nyddiaeth, yr nn fath a'r GAB. TAIBN.CH. HERS LT.EWEM.TS:.
UNIVERSITY COLLEGE OF WALES,…
UNIVERSITY COLLEGE OF WALES, ABERYSTWYTH. The Year's Work. There are many people in Cardiff, and in the great industrial district to which it stands in the capacity of a head, who will follow Principal Roberts, late Professor of Greek in the University College at Cardiff, to his new and wider sphere of labour as the ruling spiritof Abersywith College. From the report of the year's work just issued there is no doubt that his duties will be far from the nature of a sinecure. He has undertaken the control of a great and flourishing college, which, however, is at the present moment greatly in need of stimulation. It may be due to the late Princi- pal's prolonged absence in America, or, as he puts it, to the decrease in the number of scholarships offered, but in any case there has been a serious failing off in the number of student:. Says Principal Edwards In reviewing these figures our attention is arrested by the sudden and considerable drop in the number of the students. I confess at once that I cannot account for it. The college did not do so well in the London Matriculation Examination last June as usual. But that does not explain the serious de- crease in our numbers from 165 to 124 a differ- ence of 41. The diminution in the' number of scholarships and exhibitions has probably had something to do in bringing about this result. Since 1887 we have reduced the amount of scholarships and exhibitions from £ 1,363 to JB740. It is to be noticed that the decrease occurs almost entirely in the lower or matriculation classes. The number of students in the senior or B.A. and B.Sc. classes is as large as ever." No doubt so large a diminution in the number of scholarships must tend to mili- tate against the success of a col- lege, for where there is not necessarily great scholarships, students will nevertheless be attracted by opportunities which are afforded them of pursuing their studies in the higher branches at a tnfling expense. And yet it is in no way in a derogatory spirit to the excellent pilotage of the late Principal that the friends of Principal Roberts are looking forward to a re- newal of the old days, when the College held within its walls nearly 200 students, who pressed their way to the front ranks at Oxford and at Cambridge. There is always value in the discipline of a new hand, and no doubt the great scholarship and fervid enthusiasm in the cause of education which are characteristic of Principal Roberts will do much to attract some of the best of the Welsh youth to a college which will have the advantage of his inspiration and his guidance. To-day the awards of scholarships are made public, showing the disposition of a sum repre- senting nearly £ 4-00 a year. They have been won by students who come from many parts of the kingdom, from Reading, from Edinburgh, from Bristol, from Manchester, Birmingham, Bayswater, and other places. It may even form food for reflection to discover that of the 24 scholarships awarded 13 have gone to England and Scotland, and in these by far the most'valu- able are included. It would be a short-sighted policy indeed which took alarm and closed the doors to outsiders, because after all one of the greatest educational impulses arises from competi- tion with the cleverest students, and it would only reduce the position of the College to a lower level to confine its scholars to the Principality. The fact rather tends to illustrate the old cry, the lack of good intermediate education. Wales cannot compete with England in that stage of instruction. Such results should stimulate to re- newed effort those who have at heart the educa- tional equipment of young Wales, and hasten the day when first-class Grammar Schools will give the Principality the same chance as the more fortunate students in England and Scotland possess. Scholarships and Exhibitioners. The Senate of the University College of Wales, Aberystwyth, have awarded the following en- I DI trance scholarships and exhibitionson theresult of an examination held durinsr last week :— 1. Maynard, J. D., Amersham Hall School, Read- ing (The Pritchard Scholarship) £ 30 2. Newbiggin, Miss M.. Heriot Watt College, Edi nburgli, conditionally (The Visitors' Scholar- ship) 30 3. Bees, D., Christ's College, Brecon (The Princi- pal's Scholarship for W elsh candidates) 40 4. Spencer, Miss C. S., University College, Bristol ( Ihe Commercial Travellers of North Wales Scholarship) 20 5. Smith, Miss J. M.. High School, Bayswater (The Urereton Exhibition) 15 6, Reynolds, Miss E., High School, and Owen's College, Manchester 15 7. Perrett, W., Dr Morgan's School, Hridgwater., 15 8. Watkin, It. G., High School, Bi; mingiiani 15 9. Hughes, Miss A. M., University College, Bangor 10 Tenable for one year. 10. Thomas, G. J., Copper Works B. School, Llanelly 20 (The Mrs Da vies', Uandyssul, Close Scholarship.) 11. Glanville, W., Congregational School, Cater- bain 10 (The Commercial Travellers of S. Wales' Scholarship). 12. Jenkins, Mias H. B., High School, Swansea. 10 {The Commercial Travellers of S. Wales' Scholarship). 13. Johnson, Miss A. L.. High School, Leicester. 10 14. Kerly, Miss M. E., North London Coll. School 10 15. Thomas, T. J., Giammar School, Newquay 20 (fbe Richards' Close Scholarship). 16. Holland, Miss J. W., North London Coll. School 5 17. Levi, Thomas. Aruwyn School. Aberystwyth 10 (Welsh Exhibition I 18. Roberts, Richard, High School, Liverpool 10 (The Ellis Eyton's Close Exhibition). 19. Evans, T. J., Board School, JJanarth 10 (Welsh Exhibition). 20. Pogh, C. G., Ardwyn School, Aberystwyth 10 (Welsh Exhibition). 21. Young, Miss C. J.. Beaumont House School, Llanelly 20 (The Mrs Da vies', Llandyssul, Close Scholarship). 22. Jones, A. G., Alun School, Mold 10 (Welsh Exhibition). 23. Griffiths, Evan, Old College School, Oarmarthen 10 (Welsh Exhibition). 24. Evans, W. D. L., University Coll., Aberystwyth 20 (The Cynddeiw Welsh Scholarship).
--------SWANSEA AND THE POSTAL…
SWANSEA AND THE POSTAL SERVICE. At the monthly meeting of the Swansea Cham- ber of Commerce, held on Friday week, Mr L. L. Dillwyn, M.P., presiding. The Secretary (Mr E. P. Jones) reported that the following letter, dated September 1st, had been received from the General Post Office Sir,—With reference to your letter of the 2 st nit., in which you ask for a reply on certain matters mentioned in the memorial from the Swansea Chamber of Com- merce, which was forwarded by Iilr Dillwyn, M.P., oii the 12th May last, I beg leave to infonn you that the question of establishing a later despatch "of the night mail from Swansea to London, and an improved com- munication from the West of England, via Bristol and the Severn Tunnel, to Swansea, has recently received very careful consideration, and that, while the impor- tance of an improved postal communication in the di- rections indicated is hilly recognised, it is regretted that the considerable expense which has already barred the offorts of the Department to effect such postal im- provements as would have been satisfactory, both to the inhabitants of Swansea and other places in South Wales, still stands in the way of making any change. The Department is therefore reluctantly constrained to defer fresh attempts to bring about the objects of the Swansea Chamber of Commerce and other pviblic bodies until it shall become practicable for the rail- way companies to effect the changes necessary in the train service on more moderate terms. I may add that, while there is no immediate pros- pect of the Department being able to make the changes indicated by the Swansea. Chamber of Commerce, the matter shall not be lost sight of, and advantage will be taken fitting opportunity of again considering how the wishes of the Chamber may be met. I have to add that a separate reply will be seat re- garding the telegraph matters referred to in the memorial. I am, ir, your obedient servant, EDWARD GELD, The Secretary said since the last meeting he had written to the authorities of various towns be- tween Swansea and Milford asking their co-opera- tion in the direction of the improved postal facilities, and had received from Llanelly. Cardigan, Pembroke, Kidwelly, and Tenby replies, in which the intention was expressed of memorialising the Postmaster-General at an early date. The Post Office, he said. threw the onus on the railway company, and it became a ques- tion whether it was worth while to approach the Great Western Railway Company with the letter just read, and ask if something could not be done. —The President said no doubt the present was a bad time to work up the matter, as they had just lost the Postmaster- General —Mr Dixon: There is a new broom. The President I don't know that he will be a very good one. I don't know that he is not, but he is not a man who is in a hurry generally. He proceeded to say be did not think the railway companies could interfere in the matter.—Mr Shaddick asked what was the advantage of a later post ? Was it that they might be later at their offices ? His experience was that the later a post left the later they worked. At present they worked till seven, and he asked if it would bean stdvantage extending the hour till eight ? —The Secretary said there were times when a later mail would be oertainly oonvenient. — Mr Shaddick retorted that then they might go on ad infinitum. He thought the mail was quite late enough for all practical purposes. They had a mail at three a.m. if this were altered till two it would be an advantage, as they would then have two early morning deliveries in London.—Mr T. R. W. Mason suggested that a box should be placed on the London and North Western train leaving at six p.m., as then letters for the North mail could be posted half an hour later than now.—The Secretary replied that the Council of the Chamber were taking the necessary steps in this direction. —The President said before they could succeed at all in improving the mail service they should have a well defined plan and pretty well agreed on it, particularly now there was a change in the Post- master General. Whatever the Chamber might ask him to do be should be happy to do towards getting an improvement carried out.—It was decided to allow the letter to lie on the table for the present.
MR GLADSTONE ON TEMPERANCE…
MR GLADSTONE ON TEM- PERANCE LEGISLATION. The Rev A. Graham Barton, of Crook, having submitted to Mr Gladstone a resolution which he intends to move at the approaching annual Con- ference of the North England Temperance League, in which the Liberal leaders are thanked for their pledges to advance temperance legis- lation, has received from him the following communioation Dear Sir,—The defeat of the measure of the Government for the endowment of public-houses at the public charge was a result in its first aspect negative, but it really has created a movement which is already useful, and which I trust will grow in vigour. Our present system is a dis- credit and a calamity co the country, and. as far I as I know, you may depend upon the Liberal party to use their most earnest endeavours to alter it.—Yours faithfully, W. E. GLADSTONE.
[No title]
I Tax editor of the McdiccU Annual attar a cam fill examination of Ca<fbury> Cocoa, pronounces it to be both & food and a beverage of the highest quality 14140 TOBACCONISTS COMMENCING."—Hid Guide, 3d Tobacconists' Outfitting Co., 186, Enston-rd., London.
CARMARTHENSHIRE AGRiCUL. TURAL…
CARMARTHENSHIRE AGRiCUL. TURAL SOCIETY. The annual show ot the Caimarthenshire Agricultural Society held at Carmarthen on Fri- day week was hardJyso large as its lnim^iiRicpre- decessors. For some reason the entries, not so numerous as last year, and fewer aii!i<:a.ls were exhibited than usual. But in no dep^i-tmeat was there any depreciation as regards .*ia!;iy, and both the cattle and tiic horses made excellent displays, while the sheep were positively The weather on the whole was fine, a, ti-ough cloudy, and the attendance, which was good, included among others, the Earl of Cawdor, Sir J ames Wm. Drumraond, and representative of inost of the influential families in the dir*c*v This year's show marked completion Mr Prosser's tenure of the office of secretary. After a faithful service of 40 years he has resigned, but his successor has not yet been uupointeu. Tue judges were Horses Mr W. si Miller, 1'orest Lodge, Brecon, Mr IC O. Uees, iironllys Court, Talg.irth coloured cattle and sheep iiv J. Garsed, Moorlands, Portheawl, Mr E. Akers, Pentrebane, St. Pagans black cattle aLl pigs Mr G. Gibby, Coppy-Bush, Milford, Mr T. Kees, Glanvravoaddu, Llandilo stewards Mr Fzdconer, Mr R. footman, Mr J. \V. Marnes, Mr V. H. Thomas, Mr £ Lewis, Mr E. W. Irancis, Mr S. Thomas, and Mr D. H. Thomas, junr. ;-veterinary surgeons Messrs Rees and Rees. PRIZE LIST. CATTLE. Bull of the black breed, not exceeding four years old—1, Mr M. Thomas, Llwvnmendv KiH" of Nayne 2, Mr J. M. Griffiths, Penafiv COUI-L. Bull of any age, of the shorthorn or any other breed ex- cepting the black—1, Mr E. Jones, Manoravoud, Nugget 2, Mrs Colby, i'fynone, Boncath, Cherry Prince 7th. Bull of the shorthorn breed, above one year and under seven years old, to be competed for bv tenant farmers only-I, Mr K. Falconer, li wmpi. Samaritan 2nd r, Mr D. R s, Coetilleine. Bull of the black breed, or any age, to be competed lor by tenant farmers residing in the county-lr W. llugileli. Coinant. Yearling bull oi the black breed—Mr 1'. p Harries, Pilroath. Yearling bull of the shorthorn: Hereford, or any other breed—1, Mr YV. S. Mar^h 2, Mr J. R. Thomas, Towyn r, Mrs Davies, Bremenua, Cumberland. Cow in calf or the black breed—1, -NI r J. M. Griffiths, Penally Court 2, Mr J. W. Harriet, Llandilo-Aberc^win Two-year-old heifer in calf, of the black breed—1, Mr D. Jones, Crachty, Llandilo 2, Mr H. Davies, Tywicca, Yearling heifer of the black breed—1 and x, Mr J. Williams, Cefnfarciien, Wnitland. Cow in calf of the black breed, to be competed for by tenant farmers—1, Mr R, W. Stephens, Coedybrain; 2, MrH. Davies,Typicca. Cow in calf of the shortnorn oreed-l and 2, Viscount, Emlyn, May Blossom and Mulberry 2nd. Cow m calf of the shorthorn breed, to be competed for by tenant farmers—1 and 3, Mr R. Falconer, Queen and Lady 2, Mr D. H. Thomas, Derilys Court. Xwo-yeur-old heifer of the shorthorn breed—1 and 2, Mrs Colby. Yearling heifer of the shorthorn breed— 1 and 2, Mrs Colby. Cow in calf of the Hereford or any other breeù- Mr Thomas, Llaullwch. Heifer of the Here. ford or any other breed under three years old — Mr YN. Jones, Pantvfen. Two-year-old heifer in calf of a.iy oraeel, to be competed ior by tenant farmers—1, Mr W. S. rlarsh; 2, Mr J. R. Thomas, Towyn r, MrR. Falconer. Yearling heifer of any breed, to be competed for by tenant fanners—1, Mr Da ies, Capel Dewi 2, Mr J. R. Thomas r, Mr Griffiths, Lianartiinev. Pair ol yearlinc; steers of the black breed.— 1, Mr J. Morgan, "Garret;, Kidwelly 2, Mr D..lones, Crachty. Pair of yearling steers oi any other breed, to be competed for by tenant farmers—Mr Phillip Caerlleon. Bull calf of the black breed—Mr J. Scourfleld, Biaenwernduu. Buli calf of. anv other breed—1, Viscount Einlvn 2, Mrs James, Portis r, Mr D. H. Thomas. Pair of heifer calves of the black breed—Mr H. Davies, Typicca. Pair of heifer calves of any other breed-1, Mrs Colby 2, Mr D. H. Thomas r, Viscount Emlyn. HORSES.—Brood mare and foal calculated for hunters—1, Mr D. H. Thomas 2, Mr H. S. Carver, Blaencorse. Hackney brood mare and foal-1, Mr T. Y> alters 2, Miss J. A. Beresford, Hafocbieddin. Roadster mare and foal—1, Mr D. Lewis, Pantglas 2, Mr R. Rees, Cilsane, Miss Buck. Hackney gelding or mare, under 15 hands high. not under six years old, and not having taken a first prize before in this ciass at. any of the society's shows—1, Mr W. Williams, Eithinduon-isaf 2, Mr J. Lewis, Carmarthen. Gelding or mare of the cart breed, any age-l and 2, Mr W J. Buckley, Penyfau. Light-weight dry gelding er mare, not exceeding 13 cwt.—1, Mr D. H. Thomas; Mr J. P. Davies, White House Farm. Brood mare and foal calculated for agrk-ultural pur- noses -1, Viscount Emlyn, Belle 2, Mr E. Stephens, Lan. Two-year-old gelding or Filly, calculated for agricultural purposes-I, Mr M. Thomas, Llwynmendy; 2, Messrs Evans, Nantyci. Yearling gelding or tilly, calculated for agricultural purposes—i, Mr D, Thomas Derllys 2, Viscount Emlyn, Flora MacG; egor. Two- year-old gelding or filly, calculated for carriage or harness—1, Mr D. Davies. Cwmau-bacl; 2, Mr T. Evans, Treventy. Two-year-old gelding or tmy, cal- culated for a hackney—1, Mr M. Thomas.Llvvynmendv 2, Mr T. Williams. Brvnhavod h.c., Dr Bowen Jones, Carmarthen. Yearling gelding or filly, calculated far a hunter—1, Mr J. Jenkins, Llandre 2, Mr 'i It Jones, Liettycaru. Yearling gelding or filly, calcu- latcd for a hackney—1, Mr T. Morgan, Xewy Castle; 'i, Mr it Rees, Cilsane. Pony of any age, under 15 hands higl1-1, Mr 8. Thomas, Bwichgwynt; 2, Mr .). Griffith" Liwynpiod. SuckHng colt or tilly of the cart hreed-l, Viscount Emlyn 2, Mr E. Stephens, Lan. Suckling colt or fillv of any other breed—1, Mr T. Walterg, Plasnewydd; 2, Miss L A. Beresford. Gelding or mare, driven in harness—1, Mr D. Thomas, Hafod 2, Mr R Rees, Cilsaaie. SHEEP (of any breed).—Two-year-old or aged ram-l, Mr S. Thomas, Bwlchygwynt, MHirim; 2, Mr D. Lewis, Pantglas r, Mr W. Jones, I^autyfen. Yearling ram-I, Mr W, Jones, Pantyfen 2, Mr J. Williams Ram lamb-I, Mr D. Lewis 2, Mr H. Davies, Dany- graig 3, Mr S. Thomas. Pen of five two-year-old or aged ewes-i, Mr S. Thomas 2, Mr J. Griffiths. Pen of five yearling ewes—Mr J. Griffiths, peu of five ewe lamb.i—1, Mr D. Lewis 2. Mr ,T. Griffiths. PIGS.—Boar—1 and 2, Mr D. Jjewis, Pantglas. Sow in farrow, or with litter, and in breeding profit—1, Mr R. Lewis, Cillefwr 2. Mr J. R. Thorns. Open Sow under 12 months old-I and 2, Mr E. Lewis. JUMPING.— 1, Mr D. Lewis Hughes's Taunton 2 Mr H. Caule's Jenny. DONKEY CLASS.—1, Mrs Davies, Bremcnda 2 .T Jonex, Llangurw 3, T. R. Voiles, LIetiyearn 4,' '1'. Morris. The show being over, a numerous company sat down to luncheon at the Boar's Head Hotel. The president (Earl Ashburham) presided, the vice-chair being taken by the vice-president (Sir James H. Will The president was supported, among others, by Mr J. Lloyd Morgan, M.P. The loyal, patriotic, and other usual toasts havinr been duly honoured, the President gave the "Borough and County Members.'—Mr J. Lloyd Morgan, in responding, expressed regret at the absence of his colleagues, Mr Abel Thomas and Sir Arthur Stepney. The former would have be -n present if it were pos- sible for him, and with regard to Sir Arthur Stepney he (Mr Morgan) was sure that they all deeply regretted his absence owing to ill health from among them. He was sure it was the wish and desire of every- uody who knew Sir Arthur that with the rest and retirement which he now sought he would once more regain health and strength. ( applause.) Mr Morgan went on to congratulate t'ne compzny on the success of the day's proceedings, and re- ferring to the scarcity of labour, expressed a hope that the experiments of scientific men would be directed more into the channel of agriculture in the future than had been the case in the past.— The healths of the president and vice-president were enthusiastically drunk, and the former. in responding, suggested the amalgamation of the smaller societies in the county, and the establish- ment of one county show for Carni-trthenshire.- The Vice-president supported the suggestion, which was also favoured by many of the larger farmers present.—Mr D. Long Price, referring to the resignation of the secretary (Mr D. Prosser), said he had been commissioned by Lord Cawdor to suggest that Mr Prosser should receive some testimonial in recognition of his long and valuable services, and he (Mr Price) recommended that the matter be considered by the committee. ARRESTED AS A SPY. A Photographer's Sad Plight. In an interview with a representative of the Press Association on Friday. Mr C. H. Graves, the American photogra.pher" who was arrested at Mayence as a spy, stated that on the 1st instant he left Berlin for Paris, intending to do the journey by short stages. He stopped a day at Leipzig, another at Frankfort, and on the morn- ing of the 4th instant when at Mayence went out for a few hours photographing before leaving for Metz. Wishing to take a view of the town, he ascendeded the embanSunent of one of the forti- fications from which a satisfactory view could be obtained. A few minutes afterwards he found himself under arrest. He was conducted to the police station, and afterwards from one oifioe to another, where various documents were prepared. These proceedings occupied the greater part of the day, and finally he was committed to prison. In the meantime he had sent a message to the American Consul, who exerted himself to the utmost to secure his relesee. Mainly through the Consul's representations he was accommodated with a comfortable cell. He, however, was refused food, although he offered to pay for it. until the next morning, when he WH supplied with coarse bread and a liquid which was oalled ooffee. but which was only warm water slightly coloured. Subsequently, however, he obtained some fairly good coffee and a couple of rolls, for which he had to pay. Later in the day he was served with soup, but could not summon up courage enough to taste it. Shortly aftei this he was taken befoie one of the officers of the prison, where he met the American Consul, to whose efforts his quick release was entirely due. In the meantime every portion of his baggage had been searched. Finding no evidence against him, he was taken from one official to another, and was finally released, after having been under arrest for 55 hours. Before being released he was obliged to pay a fine of 15 marks and to sign a paper, the purport of which he did not quit* understand, but which he believes was a doou- ment indemnifying the officials against any claiir for damages for fal-e imprisonment. He left Mayence the same evening, and arrived at M<xz lateat night. On the followingday in Mete be was arrested merely for photographing in the -tw^et, but was able to prove his identity, and ova, re- leased in a few hoars.
PIIWP'".....H8.. A CLERGYMAN…
PIIWP'" .H8.. A CLERGYMAN BECOMES A MOHAMMEDAN. During the last few days, says the Liverpool Courier, rumours have been in circulation to the effect that the xtSoelem propaganda ir :poot had received an important accession o :tt numbers by the conversion of a clergyman of the Es-iblished Church, and after inquiry we have now received definite information as to the convert" n. It appears that for some months past the rev. gentic-ran has been in communica- tion with the otficiils of the Moslem Institute in Liverpool, %nd treci. making numerous inquiries on doctrinal points Almost a month or so arg the rev. gentleman came personally to Liverpool. He attended several of the public service? and lectures at the Mosque in Brougham-terrace, West Derby-road, and last Sunday, morning and evening, he was present. The public service was conducted by Mr G. Khalid Smith, the hon. secretary, and the lecture was gi veu by Mr W. H. Quilliam, the rev. president of the Society, tb« subject being The power of Though; At the close of the public service the rev. gentleman had an interview with the leading officials, and declared his determination to r»no::nce (Chris- r tianity and embrace Islam. He r-rwawd the Kalma" or Moslem confession (If faith, and signed the roll of membership of the association.