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[NOW STB3T PQBLISRKD.) A HIDDEN CHAIN. By Dora Russell. Author of "Footprints in the Snow," "The Erokan Seal," "The Track of the Storm," "A Fatal Pass," "The Vicar's Governess," "Hidden in My Heart," &c., &c. SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chapters I and II.—Lord Clair, son of tbe-Earl and Countess of Kilmore, has just come of age, and a tenants' ball is being? held in his honour. He pays attention to Miss Dighton, a dangjbter of one of his tenantry, and also to MissTfiva Moore,, a friend, with whom Dick Dighton is in love. Lord Clair falls madly in love with Miss Moore. The same night Clair, locking out of his window, observes that, Holly Hill, the residence of the Dighton's, and where Miss Moore is stay- ing, is on nIe. Ho hastens to the rescue, and is in time to render assistance to Miss Moore, whom ¡ he sees at a burning window. Chapters III. and IV.—Lord Clair manages at considerable risk of hit; own life to save that of Miss Moere, whom he lowers from a window in Miss Moore, whom he lowers from a window in the burning building. Dick Digbton is also injured by the ffetmes and is taken to the Hall. Next day Miss Moore and Miss Dighton go to Holly Hit! to see what is saved from the fire. I Clair meets them and extracts from Miss Moore a promise to write to him when she leaves the roof of the Dighton s. Farmer Dighton finds among tbe rums-a diamond ring on which is engraved Eva Tempte," and which Mtes Moore claims as her own. She says Temple was her mother's name and blushes deeply an she says so, much to the wonderment of Lord Guar. Chapters V. and VI.—Lord Clair improves his acquaintance with Miss Moore, much to the chagrin of Annwtte Gower, his cousin, who loves Mm. He takes her :t. bouquet whisb she accepts and receives in return a. rose with wtnch she had decked her hair. When he leaves her, he presses the rose passtanately to his lips, but the petals fall. Was it an omen ? Chapters VII. and VIII.—The acquaintance between Lord Clair and Miss Meoro continues, and on the latter removing from Sunny Brow to Basteliffe, a watering-place in the locality, be undertook to visit her there. Lord Kilmore and his wife are considerably alarmed as well as an- noyed at their son's afctontran to M'ts Moore. Chapters IX. apd X.—Clair visits his new acquamtaacesat EastclHie, a.nd whilst out walk- ing with Eva. he slips and sprains his ankle. He accordingly has to stay at Eastcliffe, and sends telegram home which fills his mother with alarm. CHAPTER XI. A Mother's Advice. Lord Kilmore looked up with au annoyed ex- pression on hia face as his wife made this some- what startling announcement, and held out his hand for tba telegram. What foots young men are," he said and after he had read the telegram he looked mere annoyed scill. It was absurd of Clair to go to Eastciifie," he added. I did not think ho would have done such a thing," replied Lady Kilmore, almost tearfully; and this accident, of course— Will form a grand opportunity for the young lady. Yes, Jeame. I think you had better go, ami bring him back with you." T-day ? What about the trains ? asked Lady Kilmore, eagerly. "You need not be in such hot haste as that. Go to-morrow and I should go with you but for this confounded gout." My dear, you are not well enough to go I will take Annette—and yet You ha.d better take Annette, and she will be a companion for you. I will look out the trains and I should certainly not leave Clair behind you there." Oh no, of course not; I will stay with him until he returns with me—and I will speak to him — this acquaintance must not go on a day longer, Kilmore." If you can prevent it; and after all there may be nothing in it; a youth's fancy for a pretty face." Still I feel uneasy. Oh, what a pity it was, Kilmore, he ever went near that fire Not for the ycung woman's sake, by aU accounts. However, the thing is to get him out of her way, and then I daresay he wall forget 3011 about her." They talked in this fashion a little while longer, and settled the train by which Lady Kilmore a.nd Annette Gowor were to start for EaKtdliff in the morning. But when during the evening Lady Kilmore mentioned this to Annette, she visibly ahrank from the idea of going, I will go if you wish, Aunt Jeanie," she said, with downcast eyes, but—" Wmdd you rather not go, Annettte ?" inquired Lady Ivilmoro. "I think Clair perhaps mightt-" hesitated Annette. The truth was that Annette had also heard from Mrs Dighton that. Eva Moore and her daughter were at Eastcliff, and knew only too well, as she did so, what had been Clair's attraction to the place. He had gone to see this beautiful girl whom he admired so greatly, and Annette's heart sank within her as she recog- nised the fact. And she felt, too, that to go to Eastcliff, to run the chance of perhaps seeing Clair with Miss Moore, would be very painfui. And perhaps Lady Kilmore guessed something of her thoughts, for after looking a moment at her young niece's downcast face, sb& said in her kindly way:— Or, win you stay and take care ot your uncle, Annette, and Barton can go with me ?" "Just as you like. Aunt Jeanie," answered Annette, hut Lady Kilmore saw she did not wish to go to E as feci fir, aud therefore arranged to take her maid with her instead. And the next morning, Lady Kilmore started in the first train to join her son, and arrived at EastcUfi ibottt twelve o'clock, and drove direct to the principal hotel in the place. She inquired if Lord Clair we;e staying there, and was in- formed that a gentleman who gave the name of Clair was. "Has ha had an accident to his foot?" asked Lady Kilmore. "Yes, the gentleman has sprained his foot," answered the waiter of whom Lady Kilmore was making these inquiries. "Then I wish to see him. lam his mother," said Lady Kilmore. "The gentleman is at present out, madam," replied the waiter; he drove out, but he said he would return for luncheon. Shall I show you to his apartments ? Lady Kilmore therefore installed herself in Clair's rooms and waited for his return to lunch. But she waited in vain. The lunch hour came and passed and there was no appearance of him, th» afternoon likewise waned, but still Clair eame not, and each mtomenc added to his mother's uneasiness. At length, about half-past seven, Clair limped into the room, leaning on a stick, having heard downstairs that a lady was waiting r toe htta, and was at once clasped in his mother's I Uffis. My dear Clair, how did this happen ?" she asked, anxiously. I slipped on the rocks," answered Clair smiling, "so I thought it best to telegraph to I you Out mother, dear, there was no reason why you..should have taken the trouble to come." My dear, of course I came, and shall stay with yon until von are well enough to return with me," answered Lady Kilmore, and it must fee admitted Clair's face somewhat lengthened wn8n he heard this announcement. "But it's TMttbing, mother there is no occasion for you to stay," he said. "Dear Clair, I will not leave you. But do not stand sit down here and tell me all about it." Oair accordingly sat down, and detailed his ad- vanture' oa the rocks, omitting various details that he thoughc unnecessary to mention. Lady Kil- more heard nothing of the white sunshades in the distance that had lured his unwary feet into the pttfall. But she listened in her gentle syinpa- shisrog^ way, and it was not until after dinner that she ventured to approach the subjeet next to her hears. Clair was then lying on a eouch, and his mother sitting on a chair near him, and twice she essay: d to mention Miss Moore's name, but her courage failed her. We all know how easy it is to fix beforehand to say unpleasant things, and how painful and dis- agreeable it is to do it. Lady Kilmore had de- cided on the very words she intended to u;e to Clair when she remonstrated with him on the subject of "that girl," but she found that these words did not readily flow from her tongue. At last, however, with a decided effort sne commenced. "I was talking to Mrs Dighton yesterday, Clair," she said, and she told me that her daughter, and that other young lady, to whom yea were so kind during the fire at Holly-hill, are staying here. Have you seen them ?" "Yes, mother," answered Clair, quietly.' I My dear," rejoined Lady Kilmore, quickly, I wish to speak to you about this acquaintance. Qairs it's not a wise one take your mother's ad- I .114 48 got sea anything more of this young ^^Why, mother V' asked Clair, moving slightly 9% the couch. Dear Clair, the reason is obvious. She is not in your position of life, and any attention you pay her might be misunderstood it is unkind even to the poor gitl." You are quite mistaken, mother." answered Clair, raisin* himself up, while a flush crossed I his face; Miss Moore is a iody in every senso of the word, and not at ail a persen to misunder- stand ;iny"n#\? attention?." Sail, dear C'air—" I think I am old enough to choose my cwn friends, you know, interrupted Clair, as Ins mother paused, and then he smiled and held out his hanu. Boa't say anything more about this, piea^e," ha addtwl. and then changed the conver- Mtioo, winch Lady Kilmore found it impossible to renew. She retired to rest. therefore, in great uneasi- ness o? mind, but when she proposed next Morning to Clair that they should return the same day to Kilmore, he made no objection. Very well, just as you bice," he answered M "Fm gouig to make a can this morning, but aftef that Fll go when you wish." "Surely, Clair, yon are nothing K> call on-" kegan Lady Kilmore, m consternation. Clair madfl no answer. He limped out of the JOQW, and five minutes later his mother saw hire drive away from the hotel door in a cab. She sat still and afraid after he was gone, trying to reaiise the situation. Clair was no longer à boy to bo led, she plainly saw. He had asserted his right to choose his own friends, and bad no doubt gone now to bid this young lady good-bye. "Oh how mad, how foolish," murmured Lady Kilmore, speaking her thoughts aloud in their aattrety. "Aad she is probably some adven- teMM, aoBMone who will try to take advantage of Ma youth. But his father must speak to hua, MJely he will have more influence." la &ctt Wz- Kilmore went- a very aJlXioua hour before Clair's return. He came back to the hotel looking bright and happy, and was ready to go home by the train his mother had decided on. His foot was still much swollen, but be made very light of it, and altogether seemed in the humour to take a very cheerful view of everything. Lady Kilmore, on the other hand, feit nervous and depressed. But she did not venture to say anything more to him on the sub- ject of Miss Moore, nor did Clair mention her name they naturally avoided it, but this fact did not tend to lessen Lady Kilmore's uneasiness. They reached the Hall in time for dinner, but before that meal Lady Kilmore found an oppor- tunity of speaking to her husband. He listened gravely and then smiled. After all," he said. I don't suppose there is much harm done. Clair, like other young men, I suppose, did not like being lectured but if he left Eastcliff so readily, it does not look as though he had any very strong attraction there. He talked of going to Scotland the end cf this month, and at the Fraser's some other pretty girl is almost sure to put this one cut of his head," I only hope so," answered Lady Kilmore, wistfully and during dinner, when Lord'Kil- more indulged in some mild jocularity on the subject of Clair's sprain, he took it all in very good part. Were yon assisting some fair damsel over the rocks, Clair," he said, when you cam*; to grief ? "No, father, I was alone," he answered, "but I was not looking where I was going." "A very unwise thing to do in life, 'Look before you leap,' are words of wisdom." Clair laughed good-temperedly. And during the next few days ho said nothing about return- ing to Eastcliff, and Lady Kilmoae began to hope her alarm had been unnecessary. In the mean- while Ciairs sprain was mending, but he was still obliged to lay his foot up, and was thus a good deal thrown with his cousm, Annette Gower and one day when he was lying on a couch and she was reading at the other end of the room, hit noticed how ill, thin, and pale she looked. "Are you not well, Annette'" he asked, kindly, "for you don't leok particularly flourish- ing. A sudden flush passed over Annette's face. Oh, yas, I am very well," she answered and then, to Clair's great astonishment, she rose hastily and left the room, and as she did so Clair noticed that her dark eyes had filled with tears. Poor little girl, what can be the matter ? he thought; and he was so disturbed at the idea that Annette was ill or unhappy that he spoke to his mother on the subject. What is wrong with Annette, mother ? he said. She seems nervous, and does not look well." Yes, she looks il1, Clair I do not know whether I should teil yon, but she got a great shock wh«n she heard of your accident at East- cliff," answered Lady Kilmore. A great shock when she heard of my acci- dent?" repeated Clair. in complete astonishment. Why, mother, how could that give her a shock ?" It did, at all events, Clair," said Lady Kil- more, gravely. I got your telegram, and An- nette was in the room, and I foolishly started up and cried, 'Clair has had an accident,' and the next moment Annette grew deadly pale and staggered forward, and would have fallen if I had not caught her in my arms. A pained and an annoyed expression passed over Clair's face. What nonsense, mother," he said she is a nervous gtrl." I think she is vary fond of you, Clair." Yes, of course, as a cousin as I am of her." I do not know," answered Lady Kilmore, M) significantly that Clair turned away his head and left the room, leaving Lady Kilmore perplex-] whether she had spoken wisely or no. CHAPTER XIL Jealousy. In writing to her mother at Kilmore Hall, Annie Dighton had not mentioned Lord Clair's visit to them at Eastdiff, She did not do so by the advice of Eva Moore. "What is the good of telling such a trifle f" Eva had said, carelessly but after Clair's acci. dent, Lady Kilmore herself mentioned to Mrs Dighton that her son had sprained his hot on thi rocks at Enstcliff. I wonder if he saw the girls?" replied Mrs Dighton. "Itold you, did I not, my lady, that our Annie and Mis3 Moore are there ?" Lady Kilmcre gave her no further information, in fact, ignored Mrs Dighton's remarks, and made that ?ood woman uneasy, lest she had t-^ken an un.vari'antable liberty. But after Lady Kilmore left the room she at once told h»r son that the ycung lord had b<-en at Eastciilf, and Richard Dighton's face darkened at the news. What ;was he doin^ there, I wonder?" he said. I don't think the girls saw him," added Mrs Digliton. I suppose Eva Moore saw him after the fire V asked Richard. Yes, h? went to call upon them at Sunny- brow, and walked with them to Holly-hill, and father saw them there. Father thinks a van of the young lord, Dick." Oil, he's will enough. When can we go from here, mother? I'm certain I'd get better far faster at the sea." Richard Dighton was in truth impatient once more see Eva Moore, and jealous of Clair, though 11; tnld himself it was folly to be so. But he thought the young lord might amuse himself with Eva, and the fact that he had saved her life gav him a claim on her gratitude, though Richard Dighton had in truth a still greater claim. H« was therefore restless to lea. ve the Hall, and Lis mother also felt she would be mora at her ease under her own roof. But th? doctor thought Richard still unfit to travel, and advised that no risk should be run. Things went on thus for a few days after Clair's return from EasfccJiff, and then Clair suddenly announced he was going to run upU town for a few div.?. At this season, Clair?" said his father,looking up from his paper. Yes, I want to meet a fellow I was at college with he's ou the point ot going out to India, and I want to shake hands with him before he starts it's Allan-Fraser I think you once saw him in my rooms at Oxford, father ?" "I think I did; I suppose he hasn't time to comtt down here ?" No, I'm afraid not; he's awfully busy, but I shouJd like to see the dear old fellow again." This conversation took place at breakfast the day following that on which Lady Kildare had told Clair that Annette Gower had nearly fainted when she heard of his accident, and Lady Kil- more moved uneasily when she heard that Clair was about to leave home, and wondered if her words had done anything to hasten his departure. If so, he gave no hint of this, and parted with Annette in exactly the same cousinly manner with which ho always treated her. He went straight up to town, and certainly met his friend there, and wrote to his mother from his hotel, but the day after went down to Eastcliff, and was ringing at the door of Sea View House when the clocks were striking five. He was shown into the by Mrs Appleyard's shiny-faced handmaiden, and found Eva Moore alone there, lying op a conch reading, and she rose with a sudden blush to receive him. You!" she said, in great surprise, holding cut her b-tnd. "Yes, I told you I would not stay long away," answered Clair, clasping her band fast in his, I am surprised. I thought—" What did you think ?" asked Clair, with his eyes fixed on her mee. Oh nothinr, answered Eva." Annie is out." she added, but I was lazy." "Will you be lazy no longer, but go out with me ?" "Shall I ? Very well;" and a few minutes later the two were walking together along the yellow sands*, and Clair was telling Eve of his love. I have been counting the hours un il I could see you again," he said. Do you know what I come back to say, Eva ?" How could I know ?" she answered coyly. "I thought you might guess; I came to tell you what I am sure you do know—that I love you very dearly, and to ask you to be my wife ?" Eva, shook her head. You must not a^k me that, Lord Clair." But why ?" said Clair, eagerly. For many reasons." Teli me one." Your father and mother would not like it." "I love and respect both my father and rnoiher," answered Clair but a man has a right to choose his own wife, and I have chosen mme- if I can persuade her to have me." Eva laughed softly. Why calk of it- ?'' she said. Let things drift on; are you not very happy as you are, Lord Clair?" Call me Clair." Well, are you not happy, Clair?" and Eva looked at him with her lustrous eyes. "You are too young to marry—too young even to think of it—and are we not dear friends ? The dearest friends!" answered Clair, ardently. "But you are so dear to me I cannot bear to think of life without you; of even a day without you, so you see nothing but marriage will satisfy me." Eva was silent for a moment; then she looked again at his eager, earnest, good-looking face. Do your people knew that you are here ?" she asked. "No." replied Clair, with an ingenuous blush. And they would say to you if they did,' Why do you run after a girl of whom we know nothing; a girl who may be an adventuress, who does not hold your position in life or Is net that true, now ? Did not your mother say some such words to you when aha came her»and took you. a way ? That was why I was surprised to see you to-day. I told myself. They will persuade him to drop an acquaintance of which they naturally do not approve." Even if they did, Eva, do you think what anyone said could induce me to change to you ? You cannot understand what I feel to you if you can think so. If you will give me hope, that is all I ask and care for." Eva sighed softly. You would approach me perhaps some day if I did." No, nover, Eva you hold my future happi- ness in your hands. Will you throw it away ?' Let us talk of it some other time. Why don't you ask me all sorts of questions, be for* you are so'rash as to wish to marry me ?" Because I know what you are without any questions. There is only one I wish to ask, Eva 1" And what ia that ?" Will you learn to care for me?" Have I to learn, Clair?" And Eva smiled. Do you mean—am I so bappy-" "Hush, hush, do not go so fast I mean we are friends, and friends care for each other you know. Let it rest there just now—Ah here comes Annie just in the nick of time." What a pity we are going to meet her," said Clair, as Annie, pretty, blushing, and shy, approached them. Eva said nothing. She met Annie as though she were well pleased to do so, and smilingly looked at Clair. Aren't you surprised to see him, Annie?" she said. A little," answered Annie, blushing more deeply, as Clair shook hands with her. Well, I was a great daal, not a little," continued Eva, still smiling, And Lord Clair, I suppose you are not going home to-day ? she added. Not for many days, I expect," said Clair, but I did not come from Kilmore, but from town." 011 indeed." And I hope I shall be able to stay here for a few days at least," went on Clair. And to day ? Where are you going to dine ?" asked Eva. At the hotel, I suppose," replied Clair. Oh -but that will be dull for you all alone. We have dined, but suppose we give him high t-a, Annie ? It will be fun ? will you have high t«a with us Lord Clair ?" I shall be too delighted." "Come along then," said Eva, as though the idea amused her. And all through the evening she was in one of her liveliest mood?. And as the hours wore on, the three young people seemed in the highest spirits. But by-and-bye when the moon rose, and ahed its white beams on the sea and on the shore, Eva want to the window and stood there for a few moments in silence. And Clair followed her, and stood by her side in silence also. I dare say there are people walking on the sands," suggested Annie. Still Eva did not speak. Clair was standing very close to har, she could almost feel his breath on her cheek, and his near presence stirred a strange emotion in her heart. She sighed, and Annie Dighton understanding plainly that she was not wanted, rose and left the room. And as the door closed behind her, Eva. looked round, and in doing so accidentally touched Clair. Is Annie gone ?" she said, in a low tone. Yes," answered Clair, and he bent his head down. bent it until his cheek rested against Eva's, and again she sighed. Why do you sigh ?" he whispered. Did I sigh ? she said softly. Yes—Eva— He put his arm round her as he spoke," and for a moment or two Eva did not turn away. She stood there with her yoting lover, and did not shrink from bis touch. Then suddenly a memory darted across her mind, and she cried out im- patiently. "We must not be foolish, Clair do you hear ? we must not be foolish Love is not folly," answered Clair passion- ately and I love you, Eva—Eva, I love you He drew her closer and kissed her, but the next moment Eva pushed him away. We must forget this," she said. "Clair, be wise, go away from here—and yet-" And yet what, Eva ? I shall miss you—that is like a woman, isn't :t? One moment I bid you go, and the next I wish you to stay." I will stay." "But trouble may come of it. Mrs Dighton and her son are coming in a day or two, and it will come to your tatner and mother's ears that you are here." "I do not care." Oh, but you must care you must care for your own sake, for mine. No one must know, Clair, what has passed between us to-day our only chance of seeing each other, of being with each other is that no one knows anything about it." But how can such a thing be, Eva ?" 1 live alone when I go to town you can come and see me, but here you must remember that your father and mother are certain to hear if you are. much with me. And if they hear, that will part ns. I don't want to part, Clair, though per- haps,I should—yes, I know I should." "T will hear of no parting, Eva, my darling, my darling—" No, no, you must not speak so. Let me ring for lights." "Give me one kiss first. Eva, just one She turned her face to his as he spoke, and for a moment her lips lightly touched his cheek. "You foolish boy!" she said, half-tenderly, and then drew away from him and did ring for lights, and WhèuÄntiIÉi- Dighton returned she saw there was a strange flush on Eva's cream- like skin, and an unusual light in her dark eyes. Clare stayed late, and lingered even when he rose to go. "To-morrow?" he said, as he held Eva's hand. What time may I call ?" "Lord Clair," she answered gaily, "I have frequently had to remind you, both here and at Sunny-brow, of the existence of a certain Mrs Grundy." "Oh! bother Mrs Grundy," said Clair half- impatiently. "But she exists, and we must consider her. Suppose you do noc call, but that we meet on the sands at twelve ?" Oh, come earlier than twelve; say eleven." Very well, at eleven-and now good night, Lard Clair." Then ho went, still loth to go. and after he had quitted the house, Aanit Dighton said in a half-frightened tone— Do you know, Eva, I think it is very strange of Lord Clair coming herg again so soon." ^"Why do you think it strange ?" "Well, you see he's not like us." Not in our station of life you mean. That's precisely what I told him." u I think he must be in love with you, but, of course, nothing could come of it." Of course not!" laughed Eva, rather bitterly. "Ard I am afraid people will talk." "Well, perhaps you had better not leave the rjom any more when he ia hero, Annie." I think I had better not." They agreed to this, yet nevertheless when they mat Clair by appointment on the sands the n*xt day and Annie remained steadily by Eva's side during the whol.# time, and also when he cam* to call upon them in the evening, Eva admitted to herself she felt it was a little wearisome. As for Clair he could scarcely ccnceal his impatience in the beunas of polite- ness. In vain he tried to draw Eva apart, there still was the apparently inevitable Annie This went on for two days, and then Eva either took pity on herself or Clair, for one afternoon she informad Annie that she meant to go out by her- self. "Wha.t! with Lord Clair, Eva ? You know he said he wmld call at four," answered Annie in a shocked ton?. Yes, even with Lord Clair," rejoined Eva, with a little laugh. "Don't look so alarmed, Annif, I am not going to run away with him." Still—" My dear, I mean to go, so don't say anything more. I find that two are company and three ara none and now I am going to dress for my walk." And with another laugh Eva turned away. And when Clair ca.lLd he found only Eva waiting in the drawing-room to receive him. Annie Dighton, who felt injured, had retired to her bedroom, and to Clair's intense satisfation Eva announced she was not going out to walk with them. Then I shall have you to myself for once," said Clair, joyously. Eva laughed, and the two went out together along the ribbed sea-sand." Clair was happy and excited, but Eva was more subdued than usual. It was a sombre day for one thing the sky cloudy and grey-tinted, and the sea br;.ke on the shore with a melancholy moan. It sounds as if it were angry," said Eva. Clair turned round and looked at her with his bricrht smil-3. But you are not angry, are you," he said, to be abne with me ? "No, I am not angry, but somehow I feel rather sad. Have you ever presentiments of coming evil, Clair ? Nj, I can's say I. have." ii f U I have felt them, and the evil came; J wonder where they come from ? If our good or bad spirit sends them ? And do you think we each have a good and bad spirit in constant attendance ? Jaughed Clair. I think we are dual creatures at all events that we have a good and an evil creature within us at constant warfare. One wins one day, and the other tne next. This accounts for the con- tradictions in oar actions for our unatablenees of purpose." "But yon an not unstable, Eva ? it Yee. IAIP.Woa".J- the proverb!T7q.-J stable as water thou shalt not excel.' That accounts for all my failures and shortcomings." I win not listen to such heresay Let us go and. sit on the rocks, Eva, for I have so much to tell you what I've been thinking of these two days when that tiesome little MissJDighton would not leave us alone.' In the meantime at Sea View House "that tiresome little Miss Dighton," was receiving a great surprise. This was no other than the un- expected arrival of her father and mother, and her brother Richard. The doctor had the night before given Richard learve to travel, and he in- sisted on at once availing himself of this, and the family party had started in the mornmg from the Hall. We thought we would give you a pleasant surprise, my dear," said Mr Dighton, while kisses and hand shakings were being exchanged. And where's your friend, Miss Moore ? Here's I Dick all anxiety." And the farmer laughed heartily. Oh replied Annie, still smarting from the slight she had received about going out to walk. Eva's out with Lord Clair." Out with Lord Clair, my lass ?" repeated Mr Dighton, in genuine astonishment. Why, Lord Clair's in London; his lordship told me so himself this morning." During this conversation Richard Dighton's face grew a dusky red, and his dark brows met in an angry scowl. "You must be mistaken, father," went on Annie the young lord's been here for days now, and we have often seen him." But you never wrote to say so, Annie," said Mrs Dighton, reproachfully. "No, mother, because Eva said I had better not." Well, I must say this beats everything ex- claimed Mr Dighton. "The young lord here! Why, Annie, who is he running after? Miss Moore, I suppose ?" "I suppose so," replied Annie, with a little toss of her pretty head, while with an angry exclamation Richard Dighton turned indignantly away. "It was a cursed impudence of him to come heie at all," he muttered, and as he spoke a certain look of anxiety passed over his father's good-natured face. "Nay, my lad, don't say that," he said: "young folks will be young folks, even if they are lords, and run after a pretty face." Richard Dighton made no answer he sullenly strode out of the room, and his mother looked after him uneasily. "It's a pity you told Dick about the young lord being with Miss Moore, Annie," she said, he doesn't like it, and I think she ought not to go walking about with the like cf him I always said so." "But, mother, you .mustn't forget she owes her life to him," replied the farmer. "Our Dick did more and fared worse," said Mrs Dighton, with some indignation; "and it's a queer business, the old lord telling you, father, that the young lord was in London, and us finding him here. Don't you think it has a queer look ?" Pretty odd," said Mr Dighton, with a per- plexed look. "But I think, mother, you had better go and look after Dick now." "Mrs Dighton followed her husband's advice. and found her son in a very angry and excited mood upstairs. Don't mind, Dick, about the young lord it's just all nonsense, I daresay," she began, by way of consolation. But I do mind. He had no business to come here running after the girls, and Annie had no business to keep it a secret. It's an insult to us all, and I won't have It He strode angrily to the room window as he spoke, and the first sight that met his eyes was Eva Moore, fair and smiling, and Clair close to her side, approaching the house. "Curse it! here they are," exclaimed Dick Dighton, and upon this Mrs Dighton at once hurried to the window also. Well, to be sure! It's the young lord, and no mistake. And how he's looking at her, just as if he could eat her, I declarer. And she's a' smiling and coquetting up in his face I wouldn't think of her any mare, Dick she's not fit for a decent man's wife if she's ready to carry on like that," said Mrs Dighton, commenting on the young couple below. Don't talk folly," answered Richard, sullenly, with his gloomy eyes also fixed on Clair and Eva. "But 1']) bring him tu book for all this. Lord or no Lrd, I'll let him know what I think ( To be continued. )
BARDDONIAETH.,
BARDDONIAETH. I BYDRA OES. I wywo'n fuan blodeua—bywyd. BYWlOg ymagora; Ond, yn y man diflana Ei deg wen fel heulwen ha'. Alltwen. UEBANUs.
Y LLEN-LEIDR.
Y LLEN-LEIDR. Nid cawr o feddwl, ond corach—yw lleidr Lien twyllwr, o linach Na welwyd dim o'i waelach I drin ei bin, druan bach Alltwen. UBBANus.
Y SLIDING SCALE A'l BWRDD.
Y SLIDING SCALE A'l BWRDD. Cynllun glwys sydd yn cyd-bwyso—huriau Yw'r Glorian Ynilithro; Ei bwriad sydd heb wyro ;r Yn wych Iwydd i'r Fasnoch Lo. Da yw ei Bwrdd, a di-baid,—diwygiad Diogel rhag afraid Buan degwch bendigaid A ddaw o blith o ddwy blaid. Pontypridd. Y DRYW.
Y GAUAF.
Y GAUAF. Oer ei wedd, un ar ei wangc,—yw*-gauaf, Gleuol ei grafangc; Dan ei draed fe dyn i drango Der fywyd haf ieuangc. Trwy'n goror mae r ystormydd,—heb iawn- Yn ben-ben a'u gilydd [bwyll, Hwy argydiant ar goedydd, Tynant want yr alit yn rhydd. Ni chlywir iach alawon-adar ter, Ar doriad dydd tirion; Od, a gwyw, yr adeg hon, Ywmiloedd o good moelion. Pontypridd. Y DBYW.
Y GAUAF.
Y GAUAF. O'i ogof, atom daeth gauaf etto, Yn hyf wr addas i gyfarwyddo Y corwynt erch, a'r rhewynt i ruo, Hwy a weinyddant yn union iddo; Yr eang ]yn sydd gan rew'n nghlo,—eira glan, Fe wyna. anian tra haf yn huno. Llanbedr-y-Fro. PAEMAN.
CYMER GALON.
CYMER GALON. Ti, sydd yn gofidio'n enbyd, Cymer galon; Fe ddaw terfyn ar dy ofid, Cymer galon; Dal dy ben i fyny'n wrol, Cana ambell benill swynol, Fydd yn tarfu gofid rhwygol, Cymer galon. Ti, sy'n colli y gvvobrwyon, Cymer galon; Nid wyt wrth dy hunan weithion, Cymer galon; Pwy a. wyr? efaHarn fuan Yr enill'r goron arian, Bydd bob amser fel dy hunan, Cymer galon. Ti, sy'n dlawd ac afiach ddigon, Cymer gaton Fe ddaw amser gwell yn union, Cymer galon; Yn dy dlodi cana emyn Am y Gwr sy'n cofio'r tlotyn, Deui'n iach yn mhobo dipyn, Cymer galon. Ti, sydd yn crefydda'n onest, Cymer galon Os mai caled ydyw'r ornest, Cymer galon; Ti gei nerth i goncro'r gelyn, Plyga'n wylaidd ar dy ddeulin, lesu Grist ei hun yw'r Brenin, Cymer galon. California. lOAN ELIAS.
BLODAU'R GRUG.
BLODAU'R GRUG. (Geiriau canig, eyfiwynedig i Mr Emlyn Evans.) Swynol addurn y mynyadau Ydyw tlysion fiodau'r gIUg, Sydd yn tyfn dan weniadau Braf yr haul a cherdd y wig; Mwyn awelon, wrth fyn'd heibio, Ro'nt gusanau ar eu min, Nes mae'u gruddiau tlws yn gwrido, Fel o ba.rch i'r hyfryd hin. 0! mor dlws yw'r blodau glan Dyfant ar y grugoedd man, Nes mae'u lliwiau, coch a gwyn, Yn sirioli gwedd pob bryn; Dan belydrau heulwen haf Eu prydterthweh oil a gaf, Fel yn sibrwd wrth y byd Fod y nof yn hardd i gyd. Os uchel yw gorsedd y blodau, Ar goryn mynyddau fy ngwlad, Mi welaf orseddtainc i minau, Yn nefoedd wen ddisglaer fy Nhad. Llundain. LLINOS WYRE,
YR EISTEDDFOD.
YR EISTEDDFOD. Hardd frenines arei gorsedd, Amddiffynfa iaith ein gwlad, Tannau'r delyn dan ei bysedd, Swynol delyn Cymru fad Mwyn athrofa, hardd sefydliad, Coron Cymru, Gwlad y Gân, ,<; Put a gloew ei chymeriad, Yw Eisteddfod Cymru Jâu. Firwd yw hon a darddodd allan Ofecldyliau Cymiy fu, Gan ymdreiglo dros y graian Trwy ddyffi-ynoedd Gvvalia gu; Yn ei swa 'roedd meius fiwsig, Ar ei thaith hi ganai'n lion, Chwyddo wnaeth yn fwyn afonig, Gwisgai burdeb ar ei bron. Ffordd i fyny o ddinodedd, Gwych enwogrwydd yw ei nod, Hardd dramwyfa i anrydedd, Grisiau'i ddringo bryniau ctod Miloedd heddyw sydd a'u henwau Yn golofnau o'i lleshad, Rhai fu'n dyfal dnngo'r bryniau Er dyrchafu iaith eu gwlad. Gardd lie tyfa tlysion flodau, Teg rosynan hardd eu lliw, Yn gwasgaru peraroglau Fel bendithion gwerthfa,wr DuwJ Un a blanwyd heb fawr gobaith, Heddyw sy'n flodeuyn hardd, Wedi tyfu'n ddigon prydferth, I adurno cadair bardd. vymry fu yn tirion feithrin Hon pan oedd yn faban glan, Yn ei chryd fe welwyd darlun Cymru fwyn yn for o gan Heddyw uiae yn eneth siriol, Dawnsia iechyd ar ei grudd, Gwisgir hi mewn gwisg farddonol I roesawu Cymru Fydd. 1 Boed Cymru Fydd fel Cymru Fu, Yn liawn o'r tan gwladgarol, Yn amddiffynfa 0 bob tu I'r acnos eenedlaethol; I ysgrifenu uwch ei phen, Mown aur-lythyrenau breision, Tra byddo enw Gwalia Wen, Fe gedwir Gwyl y Bryniau. Ystradgynlais. H HARRIES.
BEIBL MAWR Y TEULU.
BEIBL MAWR Y TEULU. NeMaidd Lyfr! anwyl iawn i mi Yw holl lyth'renau gUn dy enw cu Bendithion Duw sydd ynot ti mor hael, Mae bywyd yn mhob tro wrth droi dy ddail; Mae'th eiriau di mor llawn o'r Ysbryd Glan Nes ysu ein mynwesau ni ar dSn Mae llwytli o iechyd yn mhob adnod sydd Yn gorwedd oddimewn i'th glorian'n nghudd. o fewn dy glbriau santaidd, dyna'r fan Ceir golwg iawn ar ddyn—greadur gwan, Yn damsango dan draed, wrth droi yn ol Fendithion melus Duw, yr adyn ffol! Mae dyn yn codi'i olwg tua'r Nef, A'r Nefoedd yn ymgrymu ato ef! Ac fel wrth raid yn gyru tua'r llawr Felusion hedd i blant y "cvstudd mawr." o fewn dy gloriau di, Doethineb sydd Yn ymddysgleirio fe] haul canol dydd; Gogomant ter dy wirioneddau drud Yn suddo i dywyllwch mawr y byd, Nes byddo i drieolion megys plant Yn chwareu mewn mwynhad gerllaw i'r nanb Fo'n llifo yn eu hymyl, ac heb fod Yn gofyn byth, yn wir, o b'le mae'n dod. o fewn dy gloriau di ceir golwg brudd Ar "fab y Saer" dan bwys a gwres y dydd Ei galon fawr ar dân, santeiddiol wres, Mewn awydd dwyn y byd i'r net yn nes; Ei eiriau yn dyferu fel y gwin, O'r heddweh nefol deimlai Ef ei Hun, Neu rosyn per yn taflu'i drysor cudd Yn dawel iawn ar awel hwyr y dydd. o fewn dy gloriau di mae'r saint bob dydd Yn casfclu btodeu gobaith gwoll, yn rhydd; Er cymaint sydd yn sugi-o dy fvvvnhad, MaEhh gelwrn byth yn Hawn, ac eto'n rhad; A ninau 'nawr, mewn gwir jdmygedd, llawn o ddidwyll barch a dagrau serch, a wnawn Eneinio'th gloriau'n dawel, Arwr hedd, Heb ofni grwg y byd na aafn y bedd. Taibach. REES LLEWELLYN.
Y CRISTION YN MARW.
Y CRISTION YN MARW. Ffarwel! meddai'r Cristion, ar derfyu ei daith, 'Rwy'n myned i orwedd i Wrly oer, llaith; Mae'm pabell yn oeri yn angau, fy ffrynd, Nid -ws genyf fynyd 1'W ebolli—'rwy'n myn'd. Pe cawswn fy newis ar berlau y byd, A'r aur neu yr arian, nid ydynt i gyd Un mymryn yn well yn fy ngolwg yn awr Na'r llwch sydd yn Hychio dros wyneb y llawr. Dych'mygaf y gwelaf yn sefyll fan draw Fy anwyl wraig siriol chadach'n ei llaw; Ffarwel, fy anwylyd, ma.e'n rhaid i mi fyn'd, Mae'm traed yn yr afon, ffarwel, anwyI ffrynd. Yn moreu fy nyddiau bum inau mor hardd A'r prydferth flodeuyn sy'n tyfu'n yr ardd Ond heddyw 'rwvf yma mor llwydaidd fy ngwedd, Br»n gado y ddaear a myned i'r bedd. Daeth gauaf o'r diwedd i welwi fy ngwedd, Y gauaf ysguba laweroedd i'r bedd Mae chwys oer marwolaetb yn treiglo i Jawr, A rhew ar fy ngruddiau—'rwy'n myned yn awr. Ffarwel, fy anwylyd ffarwel, fy hoff b]ant Gobeithio cawn gwrddyd ynghyd a'r holl sa'nt; 'Rwy'n myned o'ch gwyddfod i fynwes yr Oen. I fyw yn dragwyddol i fyd heb ddim poen. Canfyddaf fy Ngheidwad yn dod ataf fi, I'm hebrwng trwy donau yr hen afon ddu, Fel gallwyf ei chroesi, heb arswyd na braw, I'r porthladddYUlQPol ya pgheudod Ei law. Ynyaforgan. X. SbadbaoII'
THE REWARD OF INDUSTRY.
EQUALS BY BmTH-Twins. AN INSIGNIFICANT LITTLE Cuss-Darn it. The rule of three—England, Scotland, and Ireland. A great statesman is a politician who can persuade the people that the thing he wants is just the thing they want. AT A HOUSEWARMING.—Mrs Critical: Carved woods and metal ornaments—such a lot of fret- work !— Mrs Leiteral Yes, indeed it's the most worritsome job to clean 'em A BABY'S PECULIARITIES.—Young Mother: I wonder why the baby always wakes up crying ?— Young Father (wearily): I suppose he's mad be- cause he s been making no trouble. In after-life you may have friends—fond, dear friends but never will you have again the nex- pressible love and gentleness lavished uponi you which none but a mother bestows. HARD ON THE DOGs. First Dog We'll be tied up every Thursday and Saturday nights now. —Second Dog What's up ?—First Dog The new dude that comes to see Miss Susie has mcney. A PROMOTION. — "I don't believe Tommy J ones and III be in the same geography class anY more, said Bobby, "'cause I've been to Europe this year, and I'll know more about it than he does. A Swing So you read my book entitled, How to Cure Sleeplessness." What do you think of it ?—Miss Flight: Oh, it worked like a charm. I went to sleen before I had read five pages. THE FISH; OR, THE STORY ?—Kiljordan (with ten-pound pickerel) Grindstone, ain't this a beauty ? Caught it myself. What do you think of it ?—Grindstone: Looks fishy, Kiljordan. Looks fishy. Every man who can be a first rate something— as Everyman can be who is a man at all—has no right to be a fifth rate something; for a fifth rate something is no better than a fifth rate nothing.- J. G. Holland. ° ii You can always tell when a woman has told all she knows about a piece of neighbourhood gossip.—She; How?—He: She concludes with, I should be glad to tell you all about it, but my lips are sealed." A young woman, who married a man while under the impression that he was an architect's assistant, became disconsolate upon discovering that he assisted the architect by carrying bricks up a ladder in a hud. EDITOR'S SON.-I asked papa when the mil- lennium was comm', an' if Mars was inhabited an' if it was going to rain next Fourth of July an' he said he didn't know. I don't see how he evez got to be a editor. HE OUGHT TO KNOW.-Prunella: I have heard that the steerage of an ocean steamer is a terrible place. Is it really so, Lord Lackland ?—Lorf> Lackland Why, how should I know?—Prunella; How did you get to America ? Said the night watchman when about dusk he was invited to drink a cup of coffee, "No. thank you, coffee keeps me awake all night" Then hesaw his blunder, looked very embarrassed, and tried to explain. But it was no use. Nearly all Japanese houses are so constructed that, the front can be folded back or taken down. The first thing that a Japanese does in the morn- ing is to open house "—remove the front so that the interior may be exposed to view. FORCED BRIBERY.—Judge You admit that you bribed the witness, as the other side charge Lawyer Yes, your honour but— Judge (severely) What ?—Lawyer I bribed him tC tell the truth. He was going to he for the other side. THE REWARD OF INDUSTRY. He practised at figures and writing, they say, When a lad, in the old village school-room And he's now in receipt of five dollars per day For chalking up odds in a pool-room. THE QUESTIONING HABIT.—TheShopper (exam- imng 4 1-2 cent. cotton prints): Will the colours, run ?—Salesman (with prompt assurance) • Not unless they're wet, lady; how many yards Shopper (evidently relieved): Give me eight yards. THE SMALL BOY'S LABOUR OF LOVE. He smilingly Lurns the grindstone Although his dinner waits Oh, he works away with pleasure. For he's sharpening his skates CAUSE FOR THANKSGIVING.—Mr Bradv (sur. veying the scanty repast): 'Tis dev'lish little dinner we hov to be thankful fer this day, Nora i —Mrs Brady Whist, Moike Yez do be for. gettin' that we should be t'ankful there do be no more here to ate it I—Puck. AMATEUR PRINTER.—There is no regular pastry cook connected with a printing-office, although' sometimes when one of the hands makes a little pi, he makes the foreman a little tart, and then, perhaps, the latter complains of being "outot sorts." HIS TREASURE.— "YOU wrong him, papa; b6 does not love me for my money. He scoffs at tha world's sordid eagerness for wealth.What proof have you, child ?"—" Why, only last night. qe told me he didn't care if he was never able to make a cent in his life, if he only had me A very fat man, for the purpose of quizzing Dr asked him to prescribe for hia complaint, which, he declared, was sleeping with his mouth open. "Sir," said the doctor, "your disease is incurable. Your skin is too short, so that when you shut your eyes your mouth opens." WHY HE CAME EARLY.—Mother (sitting dowa just as the tram starts) Oh, would you mind changing seats with me, sir ? My baby wants to look out of the window.—Mr Haven Hartford1 (with sarcastic politeness): With pleasure, madam. I have been saving the seat for him for half as hour. Very stout old lady (watching the lions feed): Pears to me, mister, that ain't a very big piecc o' meat for secli an animal."—Attendant (with thff greatest and most stupendous show of politeness on earth): "I s'pose it does seem like a small piece of meat to you, ma'am, but it's big enough for the lion." HONESTY WITH DISCRETION.—The gentleman No, my man, this is not mine. Itwasafivi pound note I lost.—Paddy It was a fi'-pun note before Oi got it changed, sor.—The gentleman What did you get it changed for ?—Paddy i Och, sure, so the owner could convayniently re* ward me, sor." A certain individual, not over remarkable forr punctuality in paying his debts, was complaining to a waggish acquaintance of "shortness dL breath. Indeed, replied he, I am surprised at that, for I had a little conversation with your tailor the other day, and he told me you were the longest-winded customer he had." A deaf man went to law with a deaf man, and the judge was a long way deafer than both. The one claimed that the other owed him five months rent, and the second replied that he had ground his corn by night. Then the judge, looking down on them, said: "Why quarrel? She is yout mother; keep her between you." Two hoys sent into the country by a "fresh air fund "thus conversed—"Say, Pat, will wo see apples on trees ?" Ov course you will," said his companion, with a tone of conscious superiority; but I don't like them," added hf*. I ate some in the country last summer, and they were sour. Apples that grow m barrels is best." A disappointed fish-peddler was belabouring hia slow but patient horse in Boston-street the other day, and calling out his wares at intervals, as Herrin,' herrin,' fresh herrin' A tender- hearted lady, seeing the act of cruelty to th* horse called out sternly from an upper window Have you no mercy ?" No, mum," was the reply nothing but herrin' How glorious it is to be engaged in a purely intellectual occupation murmured a young maiden, gazing rapturously into the admiring eyes of an editor; "your own mental faculties for tools, and the whole universe for a workshop. Now tell nie," she added, what do you find the most difheult thing connected with your noble profession ?" Paying the staff," said the editor. WASHINGTON'S ONLY JOKE.—Duriugthe debate in the Continental Congress on the establishment of the Federal Army, a member offered a resolu- tion providing that it should never exceed threa thousand men whereupon Washington moved an amendment that no enemy should ever invade ihft country with a force exceeding two thousand men. This joke was a perfect success, and the laughter which it excited smothered the resolution. BOTH MISTAKEN.—A Briton, who one day pall!; a visit to Voltaire at Ferney, was asked by hiø: where he had been last. On his replying that be had been staying with Haller, Voltaire ex- claimed, What a man that is A great poet, a great naturalist, a great philosopher—almost a universal genius It is very good of you to say so," answered the visitor more especially as Haller does not do you the like justice." Ah, well," said Voltaire, "perhaps we are both of na mistaken." A witty individual one morning wagered that he would ask the same question of fifty different persons and receive the same answer from each. The wit went to first one and then to another, until he had reached the number of fifty. And this is how he won the bet. He whispered, half audibly to each, "I say. have you heard that Smith has failed ?" What Smith ?" queried the whole fifõy, one after another J and it was decided that tha bet had been fairly won.
MERTHYR BOARD OF GUARDIANS
MERTHYR BOARD OF GUARDIANS The ordinary weekly meeting of the Merthyr Board of Guardians was held on Saturday, Mrl). P. Davies, J.P., chairman, presiding.—TheClerk mentioned that he had received from Mr D. Da vies. C.C., who could not attend in conse- quence of an accident, a letter asking the Board to jxjstpone consideration of the motion of which he had given notice, viz., That this, Board IP- joices at the action of the President Of the Loeal Government Board in reducing the qualification of poor-law guardians to £5, because it is a step in the right direction. At the same time, this Board considers that property qualifications should bo done away .with on all Boards, and that the voting should be conducted under the protection of the ballot; also that the ex-officio element be abolished, and that a peti- tion be forwarded to the Right Hon. H. H. Fowler, M.P., embodying this."—Mr R. H. Rhys, J.P., said he was exceedingly sorry Mr Davies had met with an accident. He did not know why they should return any thanks to Mr Fowler for having made this order. He must say the object of the Legislature in giving the Local Government Board power to fix the quali- cation of Guardians at £5 and upwards was done with a view of meeting the requirements of various districts in the country. The £5 qualification in many places represented a qualification equal to £20 in other places. He did not see that Mr Fowler was entitled to any recognition on the part of that Union at all. When, therefore, the time arrived, he should move the previous question, so that the Guardians should not be put in the unpleasant position of voting for or against. His motion now was that notice be sent to every Guardian.—The proposi- tion was carried unanimously.
BRIDGEND WORKHOUSE.
BRIDGEND WORKHOUSE. Beer or no Beer ? At the ordinary meeting of the Guardians of the Bridgend and Cowbridge Union on Saturday, the Clerk read a letter from Mr Wui. Llewellyn, of Court Colman, an ex-officio member of the Board, asking to be allowed to supply the inmates of the Workhouse with a pint of beer with their Christmas dinner, and if informed as to the amount required he would have pleasure in caus- ing the quantity to be delivered.—It was pro- posed, and Mr William Howells (Wick) seconded that the offer of Mr Llewellyn be accepted.—Mr William Howell (Pencoed) moved as an amend- ment a direct negative. Be thought that it was full time that gentlemen who occu- pied representative positions should be pronounced on the drink question. He proposed that the offer should be refused, and he hoped the Board would be unanimous in supporting the motion passed in the previous week.—Mr Thos. John (Cowbridge) had great pleasure in seconding the amendment. They knew that chiefly the paupers were degraded by drink, and it ivas unfair to place before them this temptation.—Mr John Davies (Bridgend) said that no one was more in sympathy with the efforts to promote temperance but he had yet to learn that all the inmates of that house had been brought there by drink. (Hear, hear.) No I one was more desirous that the working men should be protected and his position advanced, I but this was an exceptional matter. If the amendment had been made for the purposes cf general diet he should have supported it, but he could not believe that one pint of beer at a festive season would bring about the feeling of degrada- tion and craving spoken of.—On a division, 9 voted for the amendment and 10 for the motion, and the latter was declared carried.
NEWPORT BOARD OF GUARDIANS.
NEWPORT BOARD OF GUARDIANS. Tha weekly meeting of the Newport Board of Guardians was held at the Workhouse on Satur- day, the Chairman (Col. Lyne) presiding. The inmates of the house numbered 402, an increase of 41 compared with the correspond ina: period. Benjamin Grey, 66, Mary Stephens, 82, and William Mathias, 70, Newport, died during the week. There were 203 children m the Caerleon Industrial Schools, in- crease of one. The outdoor paupers totalled 1,734. -The Chairman stated that there was a balance in favour of the Board at the bank of £2029s 2d. —It was stated that several parishes had not paid their calls, and the Clerk was directed to forward notices to the overseer, and in default of response the overseers are to be proceeded against. The application of of Dr W. W. Morgan, who was for nearly 50 years one of the district medical officers under the Board, for superannuation allowance was considered. Mr W. H. Brown thought that tho caso was not one in which the Board should grant an allowance, Dr Morgan had had a large private practice, and only a small portion of his services were given to the Board. Mr Brown, therefore, moved a reso- lution expressing the Board's appreciation of Dr Morgan's services, but declining to accede to the request for a superannuation allowance. The proposition was seconded by Mr J. Waters, and unanimously adopted.
THE LATE REV E. MATTHEWS.
THE LATE REV E. MATTHEWS. At the Clifton-street Chapel, Cardiff, on Sunday evening, Dr Cynddylan Jones preached a special funeral sermon on the late Rev Edward Matthews. There was a very large congregation. The rev gentleman delivered a lengthened and powerful sermon from the two texts in reference to Moses—" His eye was not dim and his natural force not restrained," and No prophet llks unto Moses has risen since in Israel"—tne latter from the concluding chapter of Deuteronomy. Ho gave a short history of the life of Edward Matthews up to the period he commenced to preach, and then critically reviewed him as a preacher. First he dealt with his physical qualifications for the ministry, dilating more especially upon his wonderful delivery. Then he proceeded to speak of the deceased divine's intellectual endowments, and dwelt upon the originality of his ideas and the permanent freshness of his thoughts, pro- nouncing him, without hesitation, the greatest pulpit genius of the present age.
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BOHWIGK'S BAKING POWDER. Bast that money can buv BORWICK S BAKJDO POWDBB. Five Gold Medals. BOA WICK'S BAKINQ POWSHK. Contains L'O ALIUS.
TWICE LOST.
TWICE LOST. A Tale of Love & Fortune. By RIO HARD DOWLING, Author of "A Hidden Flanw, "Fatal Bands, "Tempest Driven," "The Mystery of Killard," "A Baffling Quest," &e. CHA?TER XLVIL Two Widows. If you'll wait here a moment," said Mrs Orr, "I'll fetch the bag." She made a significant gesture towards Edith who, when Mrs Orr rose, had dropped into her mother's chair and covered her face with her hands. J eater's took Mrs Orr's gesture to mean that if he had anything particular for Edith's ears now was his time to say it. He had not come back by design. The bag had really been forgotten, and his pocket book and keys were in it.: The girl's mind was collapsed. She had no interest whatever for herself in life. It would not hava disturbed her if she were told she must die in the morning—that night. Had she got her choico she would have preferred todie rather than to live; to die that night rather than in the morning. At the sight of her broken beauty a change came over Jeaters. He had seen her in two as- pects before; the gay and blithesome girl who was prepared to go onward and anywhere, and must lead the man who followed her to victory. Then he saw her stately and commanding, the woman who could not only control but compel. Now he saw the broken beauty, tha exquisite girl whose heart was in the grave, the sorrowing woman who had lost her love and all the golden future of her glowing fancy. Now he saw nothing but a lovely woman, weak, desolate, forlorn. At last man- hood came into his veins and ennobled his heart. He did not now want her to lead him to success he did not now want her to compel destiny in his behalf. He wanted to stand between this preci- ous creature and her sorrow, to shield her rare loveliness from care. Jeaters leant over the counter and said very softly, in the tender voice of one speaking to the beloved sick, "Miss Orr, I went away because I could not bear to see you sad, and feel unable to say how sorry, how unspeakably sorry, the sight made me. If I had tried to tell you how sorry I was, I feared I might be carried away into saying more than that, and I feared what might slip from me might offend you, and I feared above all things on earth to pain or offend you. I have only one desire in life, and it is over-mastering, I can think of nothing else day or night. My one thought, my only ambition, was hope that you would let me give you all I have. That you would take from me, as a free gift, my heart and life and soul, all that I possess, in the hope that it might be of a little use to you. If you would let me, I could give you ease of mind about the vulgar affairs of life, I know there are business anxieties in this place. I could remove thes" anxieties from your mother's mind. I could assure her future, no matter what became of you or me. I will not trouble you about my own feelings; I will only say if you can give me the right to devote my life to you and to shield you from pain and trouble, I will owe you the gratitude of all my life. the grati- tude of the man ycu save from despair and destruction." "I bav ^nothing to give," she moaned, "no- thing, nothing, nothing." "I am not asking you to give anything. I am asking you to take all I can render." "I am dead; I am in a dream. I do not want to live. I can give you nothing now; I could give you nothing later." All I ask of you is the right to wait upon you and guard you and sustain you with my arm." "No just person could take so much for nothing." You give me all I ask for it—the right to care for you. Is not the bargain fair when you give me all I covet ? And then you give me what neither you nor I can estimate—salvation. I did not mention that as a consideration at first, for I did not wish any consideration for my welfare to weigh with you. I did not intend saying any- thing about myself unless you told me you would take what I have to give. Then I intended fall- ing on my knees and telling you with all the gratitude of my rescued soul that you had drawn me back from a desperate gulf, on the brink of which I hung, and that in saying you would take my hand you bad saved my life, here and here- after." Oh, but I have given all, and I have nothing left to give." Trike all I have to give and save me "If nothing is worth your taking you may have it. Why should I deny it to you ? It is of no value to me—to anyone else." Jeaters drew himself up from the counter over which he had been leaning towards Edith, who had not taken down her hands from her face. He drew a sharp breath, like a man who has been long under water. He stood irresolute, dazed, giddy. All things swam before his eyes. He said hoarsely, "Miss Orr, from my soul I thank you, and while the breath of life is in my body you shall never repent the words you have spoken now. You have saved me from the double death. The words you have said to me to-day will shine in gold above you in Heaven." "I found your bag, Mr Fancourt," eaid Mrs Orr, entering from the side door, "and I should have been here before this only the man brought Mrs Blackwood's trunk, and I hiti to wait while he was carrying it upstairs." "Poor Mrs Blackwood," said Edith, in a low voice, as if to herself." Her case is even harder than mine. She had a husband who cast her off," Jeaters,bent over the cyupter and whispered, .;r-r.<> "he must never have loved as I leva." Then straightening himself he turned to the mother and said, I am much obliged to you, Mrs Orr," witbasmilt. "I could not have gone away with- out that bag, and now that I have got it I'm not going away at all." "What!" cried Mrs Orr, in astonishment, "are we to have you still for our lodger ?" Oh no, ID, no," cried Edith piteously. Not as a lodger." I think it will be better not." said he, making a sign to Mrs Orr that he was rigtyt. But I do not intend going far for the shelter of a roof. I must be near you to look after you now that Mr Sharwin has left. I shall put up at my oli friend Cresswoll's. I understand h? has been meditating suicide for loss of rm. You must know, Mrs Orr, that while you were kind enough to house me, I was always haunted with the uncomfortable feel. ing that I deprived you of your best rooms. Now you will have no occasion to let ledgings." Edith had risen from her mother's chair, and the old woman was slowly making her way up to it inside the counter. On catching the signifi- cance of these words she paused, and would have sunk to the floor had not Jeaters run to her assistance. He and Edith helped her into her chair. "I only felt a-a—a little weak," she said. Although I ought not to bo surprised at what I gather from what you say, I was surprised all the same. I hope my dears it will be for the best." She was by this time leaning back in her chair with one hand 011 each of the arms. Edith stood between her and the counter, and Jeaters was leaning against the fixtures of the wall. As she spoke Jeaters dropped to his knee, took lightly a. hand of Edith's in one of his hands, and a hand of Mrs Orr's in the other. The old woman's hb raised to his lipsand kissed reverently, and then the girl's. He rose, caught up his bag, hastened round the counter, and out the front door, and was gone without a word. Edith walked sle-wly out cf the shop and up. stairs to her room. Mrs Orr sat alone in her chair staring before her in a trance of relief, athwart which now and then crept a shiver of pain. "It's a great blessing, a great mercy," she whispered to httrselt at last, but t will) my child had married her own man." It wtid a. beautiful warm April evening when Edith arrived at Mrs Natchbrook's to carry Pollie into her quarters at Muscovy Plact. The parting with the women at the Isle of Dogs was affecting but they all drew great comfort from the reflection that they were not to be separated by any great distance, and that they could often SOP one another. You and Nancy will ccme to see Mrs Black- wo .-fl and me on rfund.iy, and make( mother's acquaintance, and take t.;a with us ?" and the good rubicund widow promised, au4 this arrang". menc took a gojd deal of the pain out of the parting. On the way to Muscovy-place Pollio seemed more calm and natural than she had been since Edith first met her months ago. She took an interest in things around her, and stopped to look into soveral shop windows. Edith could not keep her mind off the first time she had come that way with John Crane in the grave happiness of love awakening. When they were crossing thd river in the huge ungainly ferry boat Pollie put her arm round her friend and said, I think Edith, dear, I should be almost quite happy, as happy as 1 may ever hope to be on earth again, if I did not know how difficult it will be for me, even if wo are very lucky in getting work, to avoid being a great burden on you. I know you are not rich, and I know things have not been improving with you of late." Oh said Edith, with a shudder, "I forgot to tell you." She looked at her companion with a wan smile, "you will think me as tickle as the proverbial woman. It is only a few months i since I met you first, and then I was engaged to be married to your cousin. Since I saw you to-day I have become engaged to Mr Edward Fancourt, our hardsome well-off lodger, for whom you marked the shirts so heauti- fully. I believe I am not to be poor any more. So that neither you nor I need trouble our heads About mere chulinga at present. And,,if 4ewf, you do not mind, we need, speak no more upon the subject. You will see Mr Fancourt one of these days, and.I have no doubt you will like him very much. Everyone who meets him does like him very much." With all my heart, dear, I hope you may be happy, and I don't see how you can be anything but happy. It would be worse than madness to refuse this handsome well-off man when all is over with the other." Whatever I may be I can never be happy, but I am quite resigned. I do not think I can be unhappy, for a heart cannot break twice." He will—he must be good to you." I think he will. I am sure he means to be good, and everyone likes him," said Edith in a weary tone, as if the subject were dull and tire- some. "I hope not quite everyone likes him," said Pollie, very gravely. I knew one man that everyone liked, and—and—and I married him, and—and—and there was a time when all between us was over." With a wave of her hand shedis- missed the subject of her own life, and reverting to Edie's said with a smile, "Come, if it is unlucky to marry a man everyone likes, I promise to break the spell in this case. I'll be the excep- tion to the rule—I'll dis-like this Mr Edward Fancourt that everyone else worships." You are so pretty and so bright to-day, Fannie," said Edith, with a smile, that I shall be quite prepared for his wanting to give me up and marry you when he sees you. Mrs Orr received Pollie very graciously. She was now only too anxious to show her gratitude to Edith in any way, and if her daughter chose to fill the house with negresses she would hardly have objected. The mother knew no considera- tion for self had moved Edith to accept this man. Nay, she knew that if tbe girl had consulted her own feelings in the matter she would have rejected him without a moment's hesitation. Being able to afford a home to this unfortunate, helpless, and deserted relative of her dead sweet- heart had been one of the reasons why she had given her hand where no heart went with it, and if the girl's beneficent intentions towards this Mrs Fannie Blackwood were part of the consi- deration which weighed with Edith when she accepted Fancourt, it was only fair the girl should have unstinted and ungrudged indulgence in her whim. Mrs Orr suggested that as the first floor was now idle it ought to be occupied by Mrs Blackwood. But Pollie would not hear of such a thing. Edith had promised to share her own room with her, and nothing would induce her to accept any other lodging in the house. Accordingly she was installed duly in Edith's room that night, and next morning Edith put her in the old straw easy chair, with a work basket on a small table by her side with some work on it. Below flowed the Thames, bright and clear and brisk, under an unclouded sun of great warmth for the season. "I feel ever so much better already, dear," said Pollie, as she kissed the young girl when these arrangements had been made. "I feel strong and confident while I know you are near me. Isn't it strange that the river which once had such awful terrors for me now seems like a friend ?" I have always," said Edith, as she kissed her in return, "felt the Thames was my only friend— of course it is a fanciful and half-absurd idea, lots of what is best worth having in the mind is fanci- ful and half-absurd. But the Thames has of late lost one attraction for me. You see, when he went away, I often thought he might sail into the Thames, and because I thought he might I came to settle it that he would. And, strange to say, in his last letter he said he should arrive in the Thames and come straight to Furham Stairs as soon as he could leave the ship. But that is all over now—all over now—all over now "Well, I have a strange fancy about the Thames," said Pollie. "I know my head has been queer lately, since I came to live on this side of the river, before I knew you. I do not know how much of what I seem to remember did really happen, or how much is fancy and dreams; but of late I have got it into my mind that if I could only be always by the river my head might come quite right and my memory grow clear, and that when my reason and memory were sound once more, I might be able to see that many things I now believed to have happened were only imagination, and that it might come back to me that much of what seems the memory of misery in my past life was oniy imagination, and that he—my man—may return one day, and ten me he only stayed away till I was cured." "I devoutly hope it may come true for you, dear Fannie. Your fancy may turn to fact for you. The written promise of my man can never come true. You are a widow whose husband is alive, and I am a widow who has jaevep been married." CHAPTER L. A Late Customer at Muscovy Place. The days fell into a dull routine at Muscovy- place. Pollie sat peacefully sewing in Edith's room. She would not go out; she would not go downstairs she did not want to sea anyone. OIL the Sunday, when kind-hearted Mrs Natchbrook and sympathetic Nancy came, she was induced to take tea aud spend the evening in the old- fashioned little patlour behind the shop. But this was the one exception. She half-playfully, half-superstitiously, told Edith she was watching the river for what her fancy had made it promise her. Edith left her room early, as of old, and"Mrs Staples brought up Pollie's meals. Two or three times a day Edith ran up to the lonely woman, and was always greeted with a smile. I am getting well faster than the tide ever goes out," Pollie would say, and her appearance and her manner confirmed the words. Jeaters had taken up his old quarteis at Cres- well's, and displayed the greatest prudence and forbearance. He made one visit of but a few minutes every day, and never presumed upon his engagement beyond a little longer clasp of Edith's hand, or a little steadier gaze and a little tenderer tone of voice when he spoke to her. Any trifling attentionsheshowed were paid to the mother. He felt that the first thing he had to do was to con- vince the girl that he had been completely sin- cere when he said he did not expect anything from her. No stranger would have seen any- thing more in him than charming civility to the old woman and respectful interest towards the. girl. One day, about the middle of April, Jeaters said to Edith, as he was about to end his ordinary visit, If you are in no way particularly engaged this evening, I should be greatly obliged if you would let me call. There are a few rather im- portant matters I have to decide upon by to- morrow, and I should greatly like to have the advantage of your advice before finally making up my mind." Could we not talk of them now ?" she asked. He had seen a look of trouble and anxiety come into her face. "She thinks," thought he, "that I want her to fix something about tbe marriage. I must not press or hurry her about that." He said, Well, no, I should like to have a few minutes' quiet talk with you. The matter is rather important. It is of a business kind, I may say," he added smiling, "and has nothing to do with ceremonies or sentiment." The look of unwillingness passed away from her face, and she said gratefully, Very well; what time would suit you ?" Any time after the shop is shut." Nine?" Yes nine will do very well." Although the Furham main road which crossed the top of Muscovy-place was a busy placa at nine o'clock of a fine night, Muscovy-place itself was very quiet at that hour. At eight MrsStaples had gone for the night. Mrs Orr had retired to her room,and Pollie was sitting in the old straw easy chair enjoying, at the open window, the Thames bathed in the light of the moon, and the air soft and warm enough for a couple ot months later in the year. Pollie had been able to work unusually late that evening owing to the clear air and the broad, full moon, which came up at the going down of the sun. Two floors below, at the open window of the parlour, Edith awaited the arrival of Jeaters. The light was burning in the shop, it being more convenient to let a visitor in through the shop door than through the hall. She kept the door from the parlour into the hall open so that she might hear in case her visitor knocked at the hall door; she kept the door of communication between the parlour and the shop open so that his knock might not escape her if he came to the sbop door. Edith was not curious as to the business upon which Jeaters was going to consult her. He had as good as said it was not about an engagement ring or the date of their marriage. She had put John Crane s engagement ring away the day she accepted this man. She had no pleasure in John Cran's ring now that she had given herwoidto another. It was dead, like her dead self. She had been sitting hstlessly, thinking of nothing, with her eyes fixed on the waving sheet of marvellous silver the river made in the moon. A knock came to the shop door. She rose, and as she went to answer it noticed, with a weary look, that it yet wanted five minutes to nine. She opened the door and held it open, expecting Jeaters to step briskly in. No one entered. She looked out. A thick-set, short man, in a pea jacket and peaked cap, was standing on the flagged way. Beg pardon, ma'am," said the man, touching hia hatt reepectfuUy, "I kuow it's late, but if you would let me have it, I want a silver watch, about five quid, if you please, any sort a'most would do." It's too late, come in the morning," said Edith, half closing the door. He shrugged his shoulders. "The reason, ma, am, I made so bold as to ask was because no one can tell where the wages may be in the morning, once I lay hold of the booze. You see, *I ve only just come ashore after being paid off, and I want to watch anyhow. Ships are not paid off at this time of night," said Edith, seriously. Quite right, ma'am. We were paid off at twelve o'clock, but I had to do a job aboard and I'v9 only just got it finished." But if you get the watch, and are so foolish as to drink, the watch will be no safer than your money," said Edith, still more suspiciously. Pardon, ma'am, but if you give me the watch and put it in a box for me I'll leave it with you to post for my girl in Goole, and then I can't loose it." Edith glanced out into the main road and saw that dozens of people were in sight. Very well, "said she, "come in." The sailor stepped across the threshold. In the gas-light of the shop his appearance was less satisfactory. His hair was long and unkempt, hia beard long and shaggy. His face and hands were black with grime and dirt. silver were locked up in the safe. She loit the shop door open and asked the man to sit on tho on;) chair. She turned up the peas fully, as she did there was a doubb knock at the hall door, Mr Fancourt thought Edith with a feeling of relief. I shall feel safer with him-in the parlour. I was beginning to feel sorry I had-tet this man to. Now I shall feel all right." She ran round through the parlour into the hall, aDd Aid hastily to Jeaters, Mr Fancourt, will you excuse me a moment, I have a late customer—a man who wants to buy a watch, I'll be with youin a few minutes. Oh, 1 forgot to light the parlour gas? Will^yon light it, if you please." She hastened back to the shop and shut the door of communication between the parlour and the shop. She found the sailor seated as she had left him on the one chair just inside her father's bench, and in front of the safe. The man looked. very stupid. She suspected him of having laid*, hold of the booze" already. She was in no hurry*- to the visitor in the back room, and yet She opened the safe and handed him the- watches. "This is five guineas, this is five 1 pounds, and this is four pounds ten," she said.; She was careful to keep in the line of. view; through the door into the road. He handled the watches clumsily, as if he were thick-fingered, half drunk. In the middle of the counter there was a bell handle which rang a bell in the parlour. Edith took a step nearer the bell; handle. If she called out her voice must be heard in the parlour and the street. She thought this man would never decide. She was hoping he would decide to have none of the watches. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable at keeping Mr Fancourt waiting so long when he showed his tact and consideration. To let her know that he was not impatient nor bored he began to sing in a deep rich low baritone. She had never heard; him sing before and she listened to his voiced with pleasure and gratitude for his kindhearted- f ness in letting her know he was at ease. She" knew the song well. She told herself it had been suggested to him by looking out of the dark room on the blazing field of silver made by the moon upon the Thames. He was singing "As I view those scenes so charming," from La Somnambula. I'll take this one, if you please, ma'am," said the sailor, holding out the one for five pounds. Only he was so ignorant and stupid he would know it was the worst bargain of the three. She got a small wooden box and some wadding and put the watch in it. "You have a safe here?" said the man, pointing. Yes," said she, feeling extremely uneasy, looking out to see that help was within call and backmg towards the bell-handle on the counter. He spoke gruffly, indistinctly, like one with something in his mouth- tobacco, no doubt. You will put the watch in the safe. The watch be all secure and in the morning you will post the watch ?" "Yes." Would he never give her the address and the money, and go ? The singing had now ceased, and her impatience and uneasiness began to grow almost unbearable. The sailor put his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hand, bending forward and seating himself at ease as if he were going to stay for hours. I've just come back from foreign parts," said he, fixing his eyes on the ground as if concentrating his mind for a long yarn, and while I was m the westermost Atlantic I met a man who told me if ever I wanted anything in the way of a timepiece and honesty to come here. I've got the timepiece, and now I want the honesty," You want the honesty ?" she said, How the honesty ? You have got a watch which is honest value at the price, though if you had left the choice to me it is not the one I should have selected." The watch is all right, ina'm," said he, in his clumsy, heavy voice and way, "But it's some- thing else I want the honesty about. You see, the man I speak of gave me a small parcel a->d said I was to bring it here and leave it here for him in care of Airs Orr, to be left till called for. And the honesty comes in this way :—The parcel was in a box when he gave it to me, and the box has got smashed, and the leather bag, which was inside the box and was sealed, has got bn'st, and the things that were in the leather bag have got loose. I want you, ma'am, to give me a receipt for them, such as they are. I want you to put them in the safe and keep them until the person that owns them calls. I reckon they must bo worth money past telling, well nigh. Look at them and count them. I make out three hundred and two scones of all colours." He handed her a chamois bag. She took a baize covered tray and spilt the con- tents of the bag out on it under the gas. With a cry of astonishment she ran her fingers through the pile of glittering gems. Then she eyed a few closely. Why," she said, looking at the sailor who had not changed his attitude, except that tie was now gazing up into her face, they are real and of great size I never saw so great a heap before. They are of enormous value." The man that gave them to me, and told me to leave them here, said they were worth twenty- five to thirty thousand pounds." The man who gave them to you and told you, to bring them here Who was he ?" said Edith, retreating to the counter for support and placing the tray of gems out of her hand, for her limbs had begun to quake. Well, it's a long story, but from what I could' make out it was his wish that if anything hap- pened to him the stones were to be Miss Edith Orr's, the !ady I am talking to, by what he told me of her." *'Oh, God," she said, "and that awful thing has happened to him." "I've heard there were rumours of the loss of the ship and all hands, but then he was very lucky a! way?, and he may have escaped. In fact, I think there is reason to believe he is alive." The sailor rose from the chair. She crossed the floor, and falling on her knees before him, lifted her arms to him until her claspcd hands touched his face. "If there is mercy in your heart, for God's sake tell me why. you think so ?" Because I know. Because 1 am sure." How ?" Because I am he Edith sprang to her feet and backed away from the speaker. She stretched out a pair of tremb- ling hands to him. and would have fallen, only that he sprang forward and caught her in his arms. At that moment tlio yell of a man aud*the shriek of a woman burst upou the ear. ( TfJ- he concluded.)
PECULIAR BREACH OF CONTRACT…
PECULIAR BREACH OF CON- TRACT CASE. A Cardiff Milk Seller and His Milk Supply. His Honour Judge Owen had before him in the Cardiff county-court on Saturday a case in which Joseph Coates, milk dealer, 2, Mortimer- road. Cardiff,[sued Ann Grilfin, Ely Common Farm, for £ 15 18s6d, as damages for alleged breach of contract. The action was for Joss and damage sustained through defendant's alleged breach of an agreement, whereby she agreed to supply plaintiff with pure milk for one year, the breach complained of being that upon the milk being tested on or about the 19th of August last, it was found to be considerably below the standard required for pure milk. The claim was 'made up as ^follows :—For fine and costs incurred at Llandaff police-court on September 19th, jM 4s; analyst's fee for certificate, £11s train fare to Bristol and back, 6s; loss of time, 7s 6d estimated loss of custom through con- viction. £ 10.—Mr C. J. Jackson, instructed by Mr Blake, appeared for plaintiff, and Mr George David for the defendant.— His Honour asked Mr Jackson how be made out the claim for the fine.—Mr Jackson replied that in consequence of the milk having been found to be impure plaintiff was fined, and this was the milk supplied by the defendant, whereas accord- ing to the contract the defendant was bound to supply pure milk only. Plaintiff having by th* breach of contra.ct suffered that loss, he sub- mitted that plaintiff was entitled to recover it.— His Honour All that you are entitled to recover is the difference in value between what you were supplied with and pure milk. When you get adulterated^milk and sell it you accept it from the vendor and soil it to somebody else.—Mr Jackson: We accepted it, relying on the contract.—Ej!is Honour You have no business to rely on the contractinthat way. Both plaintiff and defendant denied having adulterated the milk.— At the close of the evidence, his Honour, in giving judgment, said One party is as likely to adulterate the milk as the other. lt ia a very common thing to do. Tile case is an embarrassing one, as there is only oath against oath. I cannot take upon myself t~ say which is telling the truth, but I'll go upon an old rule, which is very useful, and that is, that the burden of the proof being upon plaintiff, and as he has not made out his case, I give judgment for the defendant.—In reply to Mr David, his Honour declined to allow the defendant costs.
BI-LINGUALISM IN WALES.
BI-LINGUALISM IN WALES. A meeting of the Manchester Welsh National Society was held at the Gentlemen's Concert Hall on Friday night, Mr J. Edwards presiding, when a lecture on Bi-lingualism in Wales was given by Mr Thomas Darlington, of Queen's College, Taunton. Speaking in Welsh, the lecturer referred to the wonderful growth of the English language and to its tendency to absorb other tongues. In face of that power, he said. the Welsh people were beginning to ask themselves what would become of their own language. English was necessary to every Welshman, not because it was English— neither did he say so because he himself was an Englishman—but because it was one of the lan- guages that had become a universal medium of learning and culture. The chief need of the Welsh people at the present time was a better acquaintance with English, which, he held, would tend to break down national prejudices, while at the same time, the characteristics of one nation bein°r precisely those that the other lacked, each In that respect would become the complement of th other. The main question, however, was not 00 much what reception. Wales should give to English, as what position she should give to Welsh side by side with it. Ho thought the solution d the difficulty was that the Welsh people should be- come perfectly bi-lingual, and that Welsh should be preserved a3 tho language of the home, of religion, and, if possible, of literature: The most interesting question was whether it would be possible for Wales to remain bi-lingual. The tendency doubtless was against it, but it really depended not upon optside circumstances or con- ditions, upon for the love and respect of the Welsh people for their own language, so that the ques- tion finally resolved itself into a matter ot the strength of national feeling. j
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Dymunir i'n gohebwyrUymreig gyfeirio eugoheb- iaethau, llyfrau i'w hadolygu,&c., fel y canlyn: Dafydd Morganwg,Morganwg House, Llantwit- street, Cardiff.