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--..,-. ALL ALONG THE RIVER
ALL ALONG THE RIVER By Miss M. E. Braddon. Author of Lady Audley's Secret," The Vene- tians, or alt. in Honour," "Aurora Floy' ''The Cloven Foot," Dead Men's Shcos," "Just as I Am," "Taken at the FL-.od," "Phantom Fortune," "Like and Unlike,' "Weavers and Weft," &c., &c. CHAPTER XXVI (Continued). Though Love and Life and Death Should Come and Go." Isola was alone in the spacious Roman drawing- room with its wide windows and shady loggia. The sun v/os off that side of the house now, and the Venetian shutters had been pushed back, and between the heavy stone pillars of the loggia, she saw the orange and magnolia trees ill the garden, and the palo gold of the mimosas beyond. The sun was shining full upon the Hill of the Gardens, that hill at whose foot Nero was lir,ripd-in secret, at dead of night, by his faithful freeman and the devoted woman who loved him to the shameful end of the shameful life I that hill whose antique groves the wicked Caesar's ghost had once made & place of terror. The wicked ghost was laid now. Modern civilisa- tion had sent Nero the way of all phantoms, and fashionable Rome made holiday on tbe Hill of hardens. A military band was playing there this afternoon in the golden light, and the familiar melodies of Don Giovanni were wafted ever and anon in little gusts of sweetness to the l°ggia, where the vivid crimson of waxen catnelias and the softer rose of oleander blossoms gave brightness and colour to the dark foliage and the cold white stone. Isola heard thr^e far off melodies, faint in the distance, without heeding. The notes were beyond measure familiar, interwoven with the very fabric of her life for those were the airs Martin Disney loved, and she had played them to him pearly every evening in their quiet monotonous life. She hpard unheeding, for her thoughts had wandered back to the night of tne ball at Lostwithiel, and all that went after it—the fatal pight that struck the death-knell of peace and Innocence. How vividly she remembered every detail; her iuttering apprehensions during the long drive in the dark lanes, up hill and down hill; her Eagerness for the delight of the dance, as an un- accustomed pleasure, a scene to which youthful beauty flies as the moth to tha flame her Remorseful consciousness that she had done wrong 5n yielding to the temptation which drew her there; the longing to see Lord Lostwithiel once Inore-Lostwitlilel, whom she had vowed to her- self never to meet again of her own free will. She had gone home that afternoon resolved to forego the ball, to make any social sacrifice rather than look upon that man whose burning Words of love, breathed in her ear before she had to silence him, had left her scathed and seared as if the lightning *ia.d blasted her. She had heard his ".vow a I no room now to doubt the meaning of all that had gone before; no ground now for believing in a tender Platonic admiration, lapping her round with its soft radiance a light but not a fire. That which bad burnt into her soul to-day was th") fierce flame of dishonouring love—the open avowal of a love that wanted to steal her from her husband, and make her a sinner before her God. She knew this much—had brooded upon it all the evening—and yet she was going to a place where she must inevitably meet the Tempter. She was going because it was expedient to go because her persistent refusal to be there might give rise to guesses and suspicions that would lead to a discovery of the real reason of her ab- sence. She had seen often enough the subtle process, the society search-light, by which Tre- lasco and Fowcy could arrive at the innermost Workings of a neighbour's heart, the deepest mys- teries of motive. She was going to the ball after all, fevered, anxious, full of dim forebodings and yet with an eager expectancy and yet with a. strange over- mastering joy. How should she meet him ? How could she avoid him without ostenta- tious avoidance, knowing how many eyes J^ould be quick to mark any deviation *rom conventional propriety ? Somehow or other she was resolved to avoid al! asso- ciation with him; to get her card filled before he eould ask her to dance; or in any case to refuse if he asked her. He would scarcely venture to approach her after what had been said in the lane, when her indignation had been plainly ex- Pressed, with angry tears. No, he would hardly Pare. And so—in a vague bewilderment at find- ing she was at her journey's end—she saw the bghts of the little town close upon her, and in the next few minutes her carriage was moving slowly in the rank of carnages setting' down •heir freight at the door of the inn. Vaguely, as in a. dream, she saw the lights and the fluwers, the fine dresses and the diamonds, the scarlet and white upon the walls, brush and ^izard, vizard and brush. He was not there. She looked among the crowd, and that tall figure and that dark head were absent. She ought to have been glad at this respite; and yet her heart grew heavy as lead. Later he was there, and she was waltzing- with him. At the last moment when he was standing before her, cool, self-possessed, as it were uncon- scious of that burning past, she had no more Sower to refuse to be his partner than the bird as to escape from the snake. She had given him her hand, and they were moving slowly, softly to to the music of the soft, slow waltz. Myosotis, lnyosotis-mystic flower which means everlasting remembrance—would she ever forget this night ? Their last meeting-safest possible meeting-place here in the shine of the lamps-in the sight of the rnultitude. Here she could hold him at arm's length here she might speak to him lightly, as she too were unconscious of tht, past. Here she Was safe against his madness and her own weak, instable heart, which fluttered at his smallest Word. And so the night wore on, and she danced with him more times than she could count, forgetting, Or pretending to forget, other engagements going through an occasional waltz with another partner just for decency's sake, and hardly know- 1ng who that partner was knowing so well that there was someone else standing against the wall patching her every movement with the love- light in his eyes. Then came the period after supper when they satin the anteroom and let the dances go; by, bearing the music of waltzes which they were to nave danced together, hearing and heeding not. And then came a sudden scare at the thought of the hour—was it late ? Late, very late The discovery fluttered and unnerved her, and she was scarcely able to collect her thoughts, as he handed her into the carriage, and shut the door. Surely it was a white horse that brought me," she exclaimed, and in the next minute she re- cegnised Lostwithiel's brougham, the same carriage in which she had been driven home through the rain upon that unforsrotten night When his house sheltered her, when she saw his 'ace for the first time. Yes, it was his carriage. She knew the colour of the lining, the little brass clock, the reading lamp, the black panther rug. She pulled at the check string, but without effect. The carriage drove on slowly, but steadily, to the end of the town. She let down the window and called to ihe coachman. There was only one man on the box, and he took no notice of her call. Yes, he had heard her, perhaps, for he drew up his horse suddenly by the roadside, a little way beyond the town. A man opened the door and 'prang in, breathlessly after running. It was lostwithiel. You put me into your carriage," she cried, distractedly. How could you make such a wi is take ? Pray, tell him to go back to the Inn directly." They were driving along the country road at a rapid pace, and he had seated himself by her side, clasping her hand. He pulled up the window Nearest her, and prevented her calling to the coachman. Why should you go back ? You will be home sooner with my horse than with the screw that Drought you." But the fly will be waiting for me—the man **i|l wonder." "Let him wonder. He won't wait,very long, you may be assured. He will guess what has happened. In the confusion of carriages you took the wrong one. Isola, I am going to leave Corn- Wall to-night—to leave England—perhaps never jo return. Give me the last few moments of my ife here. Be merciful to me. I am going away -perhaps for evee." ..Take me home," she said. Are you really Wong nie home ? I* this the right way j. Of course, it is the right way. Do you suppose "51 going to drive you to London ?" ■He let down the glass suddenly, and pointed to the night. Isola, do you see where we are ? There's the J"t?n post at the cross roads. There's the tower of Aywardreath Church, though you can hardly see It In this dim light. Are you satisfied now ?" -He had drawn up the glass again. The win- jtows vvere growing dint with the mist of their Tangled breath the atmosphere was faint with odour of the faded chrysanthemums^ on her and the gardenia in the lapel of his coat, r:" that she could see of the outer world was the .rred light of the carriage lamps The high- pirited horse was going up and down the hills at 14 Perilous pace. At this rate the journey could not take long. And then—and then—he came back to the t*ra?er had breathed in her ear more than welve hours ago in the wintry lane. He loved to* l°ve{l her, he loved her—could she refuse v Ro away with him—having woven herself into W ^e? having made iiim madly, helplessly in Wr[e her? Could she refuse? Had any l«an the right to refuse? He appealed to her of honour. She had gone too far—she had too much already, granting him bsr love. I She was in his arms in the dim light, in the faint, dream-like atmosphere. He was taking possession of her weak heart by all that science of love in which he was past master. Honour, conscience, fidelity to the absent, piety, inno- cence, were being swept away in that lava flood cf passion. Helpless, irresolute, she faltered again and again. "Take me home, Lostwithiel Have mercy Take me home." He stopped those tremulous lips with a kiss— the kiss that betrays. The carriage dashed down a steep hill, rattled along a street so narrow that wheels seemed to grind against the house fronts on each side, down hill again and then it drew up suddenly in a stony square, and the door opened, and the soft, sweet sea-breeze blew among her loosened hair, and upon her uncovered neck, and she heard the gentle plish-plash of a boat moored against the quay at her feet. "This is not home," she cried piteously. Yes, it is home, love, our home for a. little while—the home that can carry us to the other end of the world, if you will. "J I The quay, and the water, and the few faint lights here and there grew dark, and she knew no more, till she heard the 3ailors crying yeo. heave, yeo, and the heaving sails swinging, and the creak of the boom as it swayed in the wind, and felt the dancing motion of the boat as she cut her way through the waves, felt the strong arm that elapsed her, and heard the low, fond voice that murmured in her ear, Isola, Isola, forgive me, I could .,t live without you." That which came afterwards had seemed one long and lurid dream—a dream of fair weather and foul ;10f peril and despair of passionate, all- conquering love. To-day, as she lay supine in the afternoon silence-lying as Tabitba had left her, in a fevered sleep-the visions of that past came back upon in all its vivid colouring, almost as distinctly as it had re-acted itself in her hours of delirium, when she had lived that tragic chapter of her life over again, and had felt the fury of the waves and breathed the chill, salt air of the tempest-driven sea, and had seen the bright full moon riding high amidst the cloud-chaos—now appearing, now vanishing, as if she, too, were a storm-driven bark in raging seas 0, God how vividly tboss hours came back The awful progress accross the bay the brooding darkness of the brief day the infinite horror of the' long night; the shuddering yacht, with straining spars, and broadside beaten by a heaving mass of water, that struck her with the force of a thousand battering-rams, blow after blow, seeming as if the next must always be the last—the final crash and end of all things. The pretty, dainty vessel, long and narrow, rode like an eggshell on those furious waters—here a long wall of inky blackness, rising like a mountain ridge and bearing down on the doomed ship, and beyond, as far as the eye could reach, a waste of surf, livid in the moonlight. What helpless in- significance, as of a leaf tossed on a whirlpool, when that mountanious mass took the yacht and lifted her on Cyclopean shoulders, and. shook her off again into the deep, black trough of the sea, as into the depths of hell And this not once only, nor a hundred times only, but on through I that endless-seeming night, on in the sickly winter dawn, and in the faint yellow gleam of a rainy noontide—on through day that seemed mixed and entangled with night, as if the be- ginning of creation had come round again, and the light were not yet divided from the darkness. Oh, those passionate, never-to-be-forgotten moments, when she had stood with him at the top of the companion, looking out upon those livid waters, over that sea of death fondly believing that each moment was to be their last that the gates of death were opening vender-a watery way, a gulf to which they must go down, in a mom'ent, in a little moment, in a flash, in a breath, at the next, or the next, or the next mad plunge of the hurrying bark. Yes, death was there, in front of them — inevitable, imminent, immediate—and life and sin, shame, remorse, were done with, along which the life that lay behind them, a page blotted and blurred with one passionate madness, which had changed the colour of a woman's life history. She knew not how she bore up against the force of that tempest clinging to him with her bare, wet arms held up by him crouching against the woodwork, which shook and rattled with every blow of the battering rams. She only knew that his arms were round her, that she was safe with him, even when the leaping surf wrapped her round like a mantle, blinding, drowning her in a momentary extinction. She only knew that his lips were close to her ear, and that in an instant's lull of those awful voices he murmured, We are going to die, Isola. The boat cannot live through such a sea. We shall go down to death together." And her lips turned to him with a joyful cry. Thank God Then again, in a momentary pause, he pleaded. Forgive me, love my stolen love, forgive me before we die And again, Was it a crime, Isola?" "If it was I forgive you," she whispered, clinging to him as the blast struck thorn. Bitter, cruel revulsion of feeling, bitter irony of fate, when the great, grim waves—which had seemed like living monsters hurrying down upon them with malignant fury to tear and to devour —when the awful sea. began to roar with a lesser voice, and the thunder of the battering-rams had a duller sound, and the bows of the yacht no longer plunged straight down into the leaden- colqured pit no longer climbed those inky ridges with such blind impetus as of a cockle- shell in a whirlpool. Bitter sense, of loss and dismay when the grey. cold dawn lighted a quieter sea, and she heard the captain telling Lostwithiel that they had seoothe Worst of the storm, and that there was no fear now. He was going to put on more canvas and hadn't the lady better go below, where ib was warm. She needn't feel anyway nervous now. They would soon be in the roadstead off Arcachon. She had not felt the chill change from night to morning. She had not felt the surf that drenched her loose, entangled hair. She hardly knew when or how Lostwithiel had wrapped her in his fur-lined coat but she found that she was so enveloped presently when she stumbled and staggered down to the cabin, and flung herself face downward upon the sofa, in a paroxysm of impotent despair. Death would have delivered her. The tempest was her friend. But the tempest had passed her by, and left her lying there like a weed, more worthless than any weed that ever the sea cast up to rot upon the barren rocks. Yes, she was left there left in a life that sin had blighted, loath- some to herself, hateful to her God. She locked herself in the cabin, while the hurry- ing footsteps overhead told her that Lostwithiel was working with the sailors. An hour later, and he was at the cabin door, pleading for one kind word, entreating her to let him see her, were it only for a few moments, to know that she was not utterly broken down by the peril she had passed through. He pleaded in vain. She would give no answer—she would speak no word. Indeed, in that dull agony of shame and despair it seemed to her as if a dumb devil had entered into her. Her parched lips seemed to have lost the power of speech. She lay there, staring straight before her at all the swing- ing things on the cedar panel—the books and photographs—and lamps and frivolities swaying and vibrating with every movement of the sea. Her hands were clenched until the nails cut into the flesh ;lher heart was throbbing with dull, slow beats that made themselves torturingly audible. Did God create His creatnres for such agony ? Had she been foredoomed everlastingly in that awful incomprehensible eternity that goes before birth—condemns 1 before she was born to this de- grading fall, to this unutterable shame ? Hours went by, she knew not how. Again and again he came to her door and talked and en- treated—heaven knows how tenderly—with what deep contrition, with what fond pleading for pardon. But the dumb devil held her still. She wrapped herself in a sullen despair—not anger, for anger is active. Her's was only a supine re- sistance. At last she heard him come with one of the sailors, and she could make out their whisperinsr talk that they were going to force open the door. Then she started up in a kind of fury, and went and flung herself against the dainty cedar panels. If you don't leave me alone in my misery I will kill myself," she cried. The long night was over; and the sun was high. It seemed as if they were sailing over a summer sea, and through the scuttle port she saw a little town, nestling under pine-clad hills. She woke from brief and troubled slumbers to see this strange and lovely shore, and at first she fancied they must have sailed back to Cornwall, and that this was some unknown bay upon that rock-bound coast; but the sapphire sea and the summer-like sunshine suggested a fairer clime than rugged Britain. While she was looking out at the crescent- shaped bay and the long line of white villas, the anchor was being lowered. The sea was almost as smooth as a lake, and these tranquil waters had the colour and the sheen of sapphire and emerald. She thought of the jasper sea—the sea of the Apocalypse, the tideless sea. beside that land of the New Jerusalem, where there are no more tears, where there can bo no more sin, a city of ransomed souls, redeemed irom all earth's iniquities. A boat was being lowered. She heard the scroop of the rope against the hull; she heard footsteps on the accommodation ladder, and then the dip of oars, and presently the boat passed between her and the sunlit waters, and she saw Lostwithiel sitting in the stern with the rudder lines in his hand, while two sailors were bending to their oars, with wind-blown hair and cheery, smiling faces, broad and red in the gay morning sunshine. He was gone, and she breathed more freely. There was a sense of momentary release in his absence and for the first time she looked round the cabin, where beautiful and luxurious things lay, thrown here and there in huddled masses of brilliant colour., A Japanese screen, a master- t piece of gold and rainbow embroidery on a sea- green ground, flung against the panelling at one end—chairs, vases, wicker wood tables, over- turned—Persian curtains wrenched from their fastenings and hanging awry—satin pillows that had drifted into a heap in one corner—signs of havoc everywhere. She stood in the midst of all this ruin, and looked at her own reflection in a long Venetian glass fastened to the panelling, almost the only object that had held its place through the storm. Her own reflection. Was that really herself, that ghastly image which the glass gave back to her? The reflection of a. woman with livid cheeks and blanched liDS, with swollen eyelids and dark rings of purple round the haggard eyes, and hair rough and tangled as Medusa's locks, and bare shoulders from which the stained satin bodice had slipped away. Her wedding gown Could that defiled garment—the long folds of the once shining satin draggled and befouled with the tar of the ropes, heavy and dripping with sea-water—could these tawdry rags be the wedding gown she had put on in her proud and happy innocence in the old bedroom at Dinan, with mother and servants, and a useful friend or helping and hindering ? Oh, if they could see her now, these old friends of her unclouded childhood, the mother and father who had loved and trusted her, who had never hinted at evil in her hearing, had never thought that sin would come new her. And she had fallen like the lowest of womankind. She had forfeited her place among the virtuous and happy for ever. She, Martin Disney's wifo That good man, that brave soldier who had fought for Queen and country-it was his wife who stood there in her shame, haggard and dis- hevelled. She flung her arms above her head, and wrung her hands in a, paroxysm of despair. Then, with a little cry, she plucked at the loose wild tresses as if she would have torn them from her head and then she threw herself upon the cabin floor in her agony, and grovelled there, a creature to whom death would have been a merciful release. If I could die, if I could but die, and no one know," she moaned. She lifted herself up again upon her knees, and with one hand upon the floor looked round the walls of. the cabin—looked among all that glitter- ing array of yhatagans and barbaric shields, damascened steel and jewelled hilts, for some practicable instrument with which she might take her hated life. And then came the thought of what must follow death, not for her in the dim incomprehensible eternity, but for those who loved her on earth, for those who would have I to be told how she had been found, in her draggled wedding gown, stabbed by her own hand, cn board Lord Lostwithiel's yacht. What a stcry of shame and crime for picturesque reporters to embellish and for scandal-lovers to gloat over No She dared not kill herself here. She must collect her senses, escape from her seducer, and hide the story of her dishonour. She took off her gown, and rolled train and bodice into a bundle as small as she could make them. Then she looked about the cabin for some object with which to weight her bundle. Yes, that would do. A little brass log that was used to steady the open door. That was heavy enough perhaps. She put it into the middle of her bundle, tied a ribbon tightly round the whole, and then she opened the scuttle port acd dropped her wedding garment into the sea. The keen winter wind, the wind from pine-clad hills and distant snow mountains blew in upon her bare neck and chilled her to the bone but it helped to cool the fever of her mind, and she sat down and leant her head upon her clsaped hands, and tried to think what she must do to escape from the toils in which guilty Jove had caught her. She must escape from the yacht. She must go back to England—somehow. She thought that if she were to appeal to Lostwithiel's honour some spark of better feeling would prevail over the madness which had destroyed her, and he would let her go; he would take her back to England, and facilitate her secret return to the home she had dis- honoured. But could she trust herself to make that appeal ? Could she stand fast against his pleading, if he implored her to stay with him, to live the life that he had planned for her, the life that he had painted so eloquently, the dreamy, beautiful life in earth's most poetic places, the life of love in idleness? Could she resist him if he should plead—it might be with tears --be, whom she adored, her destroyer and her divinity. No, she must leave the yacht before he came back to it. But how ? There were only men on board. There was no woman to whose compassion she could appeal, no woman to lend her clothes to cover her. She saw herself once again in the Venetian glass, in her long trained petticoat of muslin and lace, so daintily fresh when she dressed for the ball— muslin and lace saddened by the sea, torn to shreds where her feet had caught in the delicate flounces as she stumbled down the companion during last night's storm. A fitting costume in which to travel from Arcachon to London, verily She opened a door leading to an inner cabin, which contained bed and bath, and all toilet appliances. Hanging against the wall there wore three dressing-gowns, the lightest and least masculinaof the three being a robe of Indian camel's hair, embroidered with dull, brown silk- a neutral tinted shapeless garment with loose sleeves and a girdle. Here within locked doors, she made her hurried toilet, with much cold water. She brushed her long, ragged hair with one of the humblest of the brushes. She would not take so much as a few drops from the great crystal bottle ef eau-de-Cologne which was held in a silver frame suspended from the cealing. No- thing of his would she touch, nothing belonging to the man who wanted to pour his fortune into her lap, to make his life her life, his estate her estate, his name her name, could she but survive the ordeal of the divorce court, and free herself from old ties. She rolled her hair in a large coil at the back of her head. She put on the camel's hair dressing- ss" gown, and tied the girdle round her long, slim waist, and having done this she looked altogether a different creatute from that vision of haggard shame which she had seen just now with loath ing. She had a curious puritan air in her sad coloured raiment and braided hair. Scarcely had she finished when she beard the dip of oars, and, looking out in an agony of horror at the apprehension of Lostwithiel's return she saw a boat laden with two big mil- liner's baskets, and with a woman sitting in the stern. The men who were rowing this boat were not of the crew of the Vendetta. She had not long to wonder. She unlocked her door, and went into the adjoining cabin, while the boat came alongside, and woman and baskets were hauled upon the deck. Three minutes afterwards the cabin boy knocked at her door, and told her that there was a person from Arcachon to see her, a dress- maker with things that: had been ordered for her. She unlocked the door, for the first time since she locked it last night, and found herself face to face with a smiling young person, whose black eyes and olive complexion were warm with the glow of the south, golden in the eyes, carnation on the plump, oval cheeks. This young person had the honour to bring the trousseau which Monsieur had sent for Madame's inspection. Monsieur had told her how sadly inconvenienced Madame had been by the accident by which all her luggage had been Ihft upon the quay at the moment of saihng.f In truth, it must have been distressing for Madame, as it had evidently been distressing for Monsieur in his profound sympathy with Madame, his wife. In the meantime she, the young person, had complied with Monsieur's orders, and had brought all that there was of the best and most Parisian for Madame's gracious inspection. The cabin boy brought in the two baskets, which the milliner opened with an air, taking out the delicate lingerie, the soft silk and softer cashmere-peigniors, frilled petticoats, a fluff and flutter of creamy lace and pale satin ribbons, transforming simplest garments into things of beauty. She spread out her wares, chattering a!! the while,- and then looked at Madame for approval. Jsola scarcely glanced at all the finery. She pointed to the only plain walking gown among all the delicate prettinesses, the silk and cash- mere and lace-a grey tweed tailor gown, with no adornment except a little narrow black braid. I will keep that," she said, and one set of under-linen, the plainest. You can take all the rest of the things back to your shop. Please help me to dress as quickly as you can—I want to go on shore 111 the boat that carries you back." "But, Madame, Monsieur insisted that I should bring a complete trousseau. He wished Madame to supply herself with all things needful for a long cruise in the south." He was mistaken. My luggage is safe enough. I shall have it again in a few days. I only want clothes to wear for a day cr two. Kindly do what I ask." Her tone was so authoritative that the milliner complied, reluctantly, and murmuring persuasive little speeches while she assisted Madame to dress. All that she had brought were of the most new— expressly arrived from Paris, from one of the most distinguished establishments in the Rue de la Paix. Fashions change so quickly—and the present fashion was so enchanting, so original. She must be pardoned if she suggested that nothing in Madame's wardrobe could be so new or so elegant as these last triumphs of an artistic faiseur. Madame took no heed of her eloquence, but hurried through the simple toilet, insisted upon all the finery being replaced in the two baskets, and then went upon deck with the milliner. I am going on shore to his lordship," she said, with quiet authority, to the captain. It was a deliberate lie-the first she had told, but not the last she would have to tell. She landed on-the beach at Arcachon-penni. less, but with a diamond ringven her wedding finger—her engagement ring—which she knew, by a careless admission of Martin Disney's, to havo cost fifty pounds. She left the milliner, and went into the little town, dreading to meet Lostwithiel at every step. She found a com- placent jeweller who was willing to advance twenty-five Napoleons upon the ring, and who promised to return it to her on the receipt of that sum, with a bagatelle of twenty francs for interest, since Madame would redeem it almost immediately. Furnished with this money she drove straight to the station, and waited their in the most obscure corner she could find till the first train left for Bordeaux. At Bordeaux she bad a long time to wait, still in hiding, before the express left for Paris-and then came the long, lonely journey-from Bordeaux to Paris -from Paris to London—from London to Trelasco -it seemed an endless pilgrimage, a night- mare dream of dark night and wintry day, made hideous by the ceaseless throb of the engine, the perpetual odour of sulphur and smoke. She reached Trelasco somehow, and sank exhausted in Tabitha's arms. What day is it?" she asked faintly, looking round the familiar room as if she had never seen it before. "Thursday, ma.'am. You have been away over a week," the old servant answered coldly. It was only the next day that Tabitha. told her mistress she must leave her. "There is no need to talk about what has happened," she said. "I have kept your secret. I have let no one knw that you were away. I packed tSusan off for a holiday the morning after the ball. I don't believe anyone knows i anything about you—-unless you were seen yester- day on your way home." Then came stern words of renunciation, a rjcsd woman's protest against sin. (To be concluded.)
FAILURE OF CAR MARTH ENS HiRE…
FAILURE OF CAR MARTH ENS HiRE FARMERS. A meeting of the creditors of MessraTliomM and William Evans, the tenants of Treventy, an extensive farm near St. Clears, and who have recently been adjudged bankrupts, was held at Carmarthen ún Saturday, the Official Receiver (Mr Thomas Thomas) being in tho chair. Mr W. Morgan Griffiths, solicitor, represented the bankrupts, both of whom are very wall known in the county, Mr T. Evans having been for- merly the representative of the St. Clears divi- sion on the Carmarthenshire County Council. The case of Mr William Evans was first con- sidered. His statement of affairs showed that his gross liabilities amounted to £2,152 10s, but these were expected to rank at £ 1,679 10s. There was a sum of £4a) recoverable for rent and £43 for rates, taxes, wages, &c. His assets, after deducting these preferential claims, amounted to oniy JB135 18s 3d, leaving a defi- ciency of £1,679 10s. He alleged as the causes of his failure high rents, depression in agriculture, and bad seasons. He commenced business as a farmer at Treventy in January, 1869, having then a capital of £1,200. He and his brother were joint tenants of the farm under a lease, five years of which are unexpired. A distress for J3750 and costs was levied some time ago upon their separate effects. The sale by auction was, however, posponed at the Official Receiver's request in ord«r to avoid the groat loss which such a sale at this time of year and under such circumstances as now prevail would have occasioned. it appeared that the Official Receiver had not applied for an order for summary administration, be- cause some of the creditors had suggested the desirability ot appointing a trustee and a committee of inspection in this and the brother's case, so as to carry on the farm until a more suc- cessful sale could be arranged for the autumn. The official receiver thoroughly approved of this suggestion. The debtor's deficiency account for the past three years showed that his cxcess of assets over liabilities in May, 1890, were J3500, but the ',Í1et profit from the farm from May, to May, 1803, had been nil. His household expenses for the past three years were estimated at £130 per annum. He had lost a sum of £630 by going surety for others, and had bad to meet a sum of JB50 costs of distress and ether law costs. By excessive rent for the farm he calculated he had sustained a loss of £100, by death of stock a loss of £196, and by bad seasons and harvests and depreciation in stock more than :£50. With regard to Mr Thomas Evans, his gross liabilities reached £2,096 18s 3d. whioh were expected to rank at £1,553 7s 3d. For rent there was due ;8120 for rates, taxes, and wages, £21 16s 9d. His assets, after deducting these claims, were £79 7s 9d, leaving a deficiency of £1,473 19s 6d. He joined his brother as tenant of Treventy, in November, 1870, possessing at that time a capital of £500. In May, 1890, his assets over liabilities amounted to £100. For the last three years he had made no profit out of the farm. His household expenses for that period were estimated at j6150 per annum. He calcu- lated that the farm was too highly rented by j3100 per annum. Other items in his deficiency account were:—Costs of distress, &c., £80.; interest on borrowed capital, J3167 10s a. surety for his brother, Wiliiam, £160; loss by death of stock, &c., £175; depreciation in implements, &c., £25; bad seasons and deficiency in crops and depreciation in value of stock, £200; expenses on land which has not brought any return, £20. OPEN OF A PUBLIC HALL
ING OF A PUBLIC HALL AT TREHARRIS.
AT TREHARRIS. With the steady growth of Treharris the need of commodious premises for holding public meetings has been sadly felt, and several attempts have been made to secure better accommodation, but the difficulty of securing sufficient funds proved unsurmountable. A movement was, how- ever, commenced in September, 1891, and a public meet'ng having been held, a committee, with Mr W. Stewart as chairman, and Mr W. C. Thomas as secretary, was duly elected and a company formed with a capital of £4,000. The workmen engaged at the local colliery subscribed over £900 in shares. The directors of the colliery took up another £400, and subscribed £50 per year for five years towards the expenses; whilst tradesmen and others took up the remaining shares. Through the intervention of Mr F. W. Harris several donations — notably 100 guineas from a London company—were received. The contract for building the hall was let to Messrs Morgan and Roberts, of Newport, for £2,500, and the lighting arrongements to Messrs Arnold and Co., also of Newport. The formal opening was made by Mr F. W. Harris cn Monday. Before the opening ceremony there was a demonstration, the leading tradesmen, workmen, and school children, headed by brass and fife bands, paradiug the streets. After parading the various streets the processionists returned at two p.m. to the front of the hall, where Mr F. W. Harris was presented by the architect (Mr F. R* Bates, of Newport) with a gold key. Mr Harris was accompanied by Dr. W. W. Leigh Mr and Mrs Stewart, Mr R. Edwards, Mr George Abraham, and the directors and architect dt tho Hall Company. After complimenting the architect and builder, he opened the door and de- clared the hall ready for public use, inviting Mrs Stewart to enter as the first lady resident. The hall is divided into several parts, and is undoubtedly one of the best buildings for concerts, reading-rooms, operas, &c., outside Cardiff. The directors are to be congratulated upon having secured such a handsome and commodious build- ing. The generosity of the colliery company is deserving also of very great praise. A performance, in character, of Golden Hair and the three Bears. was given by a local juvenile choir, conducted by Mr Tom Barker. The performance was exceedingly creditable. The Treharris String Band, under the leadership of Mr Osborne, formed the orchestra, and per- formed their portion of the duties in an excellent manner. The audience was a large one, the hall being crowded.
- GLAMORGANSHIRE REFORMATORY…
GLAMORGANSHIRE REFORMA- TORY SCHOOL. The managing committee of the Glamorgan- shire Reformatory School, near Neath, have issued their report for last year. The committee state that the Government inspector was satisfied with his examination. The average number of boys in 1892 was 60, maintained at the cost of £i7 4s per boy. In the same year twelve boys were committed, namely, four from the county of Glamorgan, three from Swansea, three from Cardiff, and two from the county of Brecon. Seventeen boys were discharged in the same year, and were entrusted to relations or friends. Financially, the institution was in a prosperous state. For many years there has been a con- siderable balance 111 favour of the school at the end of each year. The accumulated profits now amount to such a sum as would enable the managers to enlarge the buildings for the recep- tion of 15 or 20 more boys. But an examina- tion of the official returns shows that the number under detention in reformatory sehools has been continuallysfalling sinœ 1581, when the number was 6,738, to the year 1891, when it was reduced to 5,581. This is certainly a favourable symptom, though it is partly accounted for by the increase of the number of children detained in industrial schools. In the year 1881 there were 16,995 boys and girls in those schools, and 23,688 m 1893. There is, therefore, no demand for increased accommodation in reforma- tory schools, and the present premises are at present fully equal to the requirements. There is accommodation in the school for 65 inmates, and the average number for the last few years has been about 60. The .periods of detention vary from three to five years. Many of these boys have been convicted twice or oftener. They are, for the most part, the neglected children of care- less or vicious parents, or are orphans, and come chiefly from large towns. TERC OF JOHN PENRY
ENTENARY OF JOHN PENRY
Celebration at Brecon. The celebration of the tercentenary of the martyrdom of John Penry at Brecon began on Monday with a united meeting of Sunday School scholars, teachers, &c., at the Guildhall, on Sun- day afternoon. Rev. J. Morris, D.D., principal of the Congregational College, Brecon, presided, and there were about 600 present.—Rev. 3. Evans, B.A., Painscaatle, opened the meeting with prayer, and addresses on the life and works of John Penry were delivered by Dr. Morris, Mr Daniel Evans, Rev. D. W. Elias (Liverpool), Alderman John Prothero, and Mr Hadley Wat- kins, and at the close a cordial vote of thanks was passed to the venerable chairman, on the motion of Mr E. Poole. Sankey's hymns were rendered during tho proceedings, Mr Hadley Wafckins, A.C., acting as director of the choir, and Miss Edmunds as accompanist. On Friday evening next there will be a united servico at Bethel Calvinistic Methodist Chapel, when the speaker of the evening will be the Rev. W. Emlyn Jones, of Morriston. Dr. Morris will preside.
--"'-SACRILEGE AT CARDIFF.
SACRILEGE AT CARDIFF. William Home was brought up on remand ab Cardiff Police-court, on Monday afternoon, charged with breaking and entering St. John's Parish Churoh, and stealing therefrom a clock, valued at 15s, the property of the churchwardens, on the 8th inst. The evidence of an assistant sexton named Cook went to show that he saw prisoner loitering about near the churchyard on the morning in question. The clock was then hanging up in the vestry. Witness shortly after- wards left, but later in the day the clock was missed.—Charles Burns deposed to prisoner offer- ing him the clock for sale, which witness pur- chased for 5s.—Detective John Stephens spoke to arresting prisoner, and charging him with steal- ing the clock, but he replied, You can't prove that I stole it."—The magistrates committed prisoner to take his trial at the quarter-sessions.
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Daily Pyrotechnioal Display.
Daily Pyrotechnioal Display. First New Yorker: Have a nice time while you were in Europe ? Second New Yorker Splendid You should have been with us. I saw Vesuvius in eruption. First New Yorker Well, as far as that goes, I haven't missed anything. My wife's mother is staying with us now, and I have that sort of thing every day. His Name. A. young spark, notorious for hLs coiicoit, was boasting in the presence of several gentlemen about the conquests he had gained over the female heart. Look," said he here's a. handsome present I had from my last inamorata," at the same time handing round a beautiful ciear case. All admired the article, which had an indorse- ment of its quality stamped upon it. "Very nice gift," remarked one of the com- pany. I perceive your lady love even had your name put on the case." "Well, that's queer," answered the boaster I never noticed it." Look again," rejoined the candid one. The case is distinctly marked ♦ Real Calf A Living Illustration. One day during the period when Henry Cabot Lodge—now Senator Lodge—was a member of the House, a countryman and his wife were watching the proceedings on the floor from the gallery, one of the features being a speech by Mr L. The old fellow had his eye on Mr Lodge in evident admiration, and at last ho turned to the man next to him for information. Who is that down there in the aisle talking to the boy ?" he asked. Congressman Lodge," was the reply. Where's be from V' "Massachusetts—Boston." Boston, did you say ?" queried the country- man. Yes, Boston." The old chap turned to his wife, who had been listening. There, Mary," he exclaimed, "just see what beans and brains will do for a. man that ain't half as big as a haystack." A Man Who Will Succeed. Now, if you will show me where the burglars got into your store," said the detective, I will see if I can find some clue." In a moment," said the proprietor. I am working at something a little more important than hunting for a clue just now. Take a seat." And while the detective waited the merchant wrote as follows at his desk :— The man who broke into Katzenhefter's store on the night of the 15th and carried away a silk hat, a pair of French calfskin boots, a fur trimmed overcoat, a black broadcloth suit and two suits of silk underwear was a black-hearted villain and scoundrel, but a man whose judgment cannot be called in question. He knew where to go when he wanted the finest clothing the market affords." Jacobs," he said to the book-keeper, send a copy of this to all the papers in town, and teH 'em I want it printed in big black type to-morrow morning. Now, Mr Hawkshaw, I am at your service. His Wife was too Good. Your World's Fair souvenir half dollar reminds me of a singular incident." said an Englishman. During the Queen's Jubilee all England was flooded with jubilee coins. The largest denomination was a. five pound gold piece, and from that down to a farthing. After the jubilee all those special coins that found their way back to the Bank of England were taken out of circulation, and before it was generally known that this was being done fifty per cent. of the coins had found their way into the maw of the old lady of Threadneedle-street. I was among the few who had sense enough to keep a set. I had a five pound piece, a sover- eign, a half-sovereign, a crown, a four-shilhng piece, a two-shillmg bit, one shilling, a sixpence, a fourpence, a threepence, a penny, a half-penny and a farthing. They lay idle in a box in my dressing-case for nearly four years. I thought nothing of them until one day last summer, when, having business in Glasgow, I went there. Here the jubilee coins were a great rarity, and I found that my collection would bring something like twelve pounds. Now, thinks I, I'll just make that money like a wink, so I telegraphed my wife to forward the box of coins to me by express at once. "The next day I got a letter from her inclos- ing a postal note for seven pounds, six shillings, and a note from the dear woman saying that as long as I was in need of the money she thought the letter i>o-i ,r than the package post, and had had uij coins exchanged for a postal order, and added the change herself to make it even money. Mad ? I was. I not only lost my five pound speculation, but I lost my jubilee coins as weU but, I say, it was rather thoughtful of her, you know, and under any other circumstances would have been very gratifying." "Doing" Europe. The following dialogue, overheard the other day, is representative of the average American idea of European travel :— So you have got back ?" 1 Yes, old man, and had a glor.ous time. Boon away four months." Where have you been ? "Everywhere. Been 'doing' Europe." What did you think of St. Petersburg ?" Didn't go to St. Petersburg. Too far." You sa.w the Vatican when you were in Rome, of course ?" Didn't get quite so far as Rome." Did you see a bull-fight when you were in Madrid ?" Madrid was a little off my track. Too far south." They say the Unter der Linden, inl Berlin, is the finest street in the w<?rl°; Do you think it is, now that you have seen it ? But I haven't seen it. "You surely didn't go to Berlin without seeing the celebrated Unter der Lmden? "i No but I somehow skipped Berlin altogether." I suppose you spent most or your time in gay and festive Paris No; I was so driven-for time that I couldn't even get as far as Paris." Where did you go to, then, after you crossed the Straits of Dover ?v "Didn't cross the Straits of Dover." I see. You spent your time visiting all the different points of interest in the British isle?,fthe' land of your ancestors 1" Yes, that's just it." The Lakes of Cumberland, Waltbam Abbey, Canterbury Cathedral, Stratford-on-Avon, Edin. burgh Castle, Abergeldie, the Lake of Killarney, and places like these, I suppose you mean ?" No I didn't see any of these places." Well, do please tell me just one place that you did see." "London." ,t Saw London pretty thoroughly, I suppose ?" You bet I did." Which did you find the most interest in, St. Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, the National Gallery, the South Ken- sington Museum, or the British Museum ?" Didn't get 'round to any of them." Great Scott How did you put in your time, then ?" Up at eleven ride in the Kow' in the after- noon dinner at six; theatre in the evening oysters at Scott's after the theatre stroll along Piccadilly after the oysters, etc., etc., etc., until goodness knows what hour, then bed." And was this your programme every day f' Pretty nearly but then you must remember, I was only away four months. Now, don't bother me with any more questions, there's a good fellow." H'm. Good-bye." What a Surprise! I heard of a man who got rich once by minding his own business, and hereafter I am going to follow his example. I was out in Indiana on some canvassing work of a political nature, and one day I came at noon to a farmhouse, the front door of which, opening into the living room, was set ajar. J knocked and knocked, and although I heard voices I could not make anyone bear. So I ventured to step inside. and then, seeing an infant asleep on a lounge, I closed the door.. Being very tired, I dropped into a. chair and waited till some one should come and I could explain my errand. laking an inventory of the things in the room, I noticed a large Maltese cat lying on the covered- up form of the sleepina infant. The cat was purring noisily, that and the ticking of the clock being the only sounds in the room. Then I listened for the breathing of the infant. I could not hear it. "Strange," I thought, and being oppressed by that unnatural stillness I went over to it and tried to see its features. But they were covered by one of those knit woollen veils, and I could only dis- cern a glimpse of a healthy colour. Then I saw that the cat was lying heavily on the child's breast. I instantly remembered the superstition that cats suck the breath of sleeping children, and gave the animal a smart tap on the ear, which sent it flying across the room. I stooped over the child and listened for its breathing. There was none! I did not stand on ceremony, but rushed pell- mell in the direction of the voices, falling head- long down two steps into a room where a large family sat at dinner, several children being present. The baby," I gasped, as soon as I could get my breath. "The baby The oat I" They all rose to their feet, echoing niy words in chorus The baby ? The cat?" Yes—suffocated—I found it there on the lounge lifeless with the cat on its breast." For a. moment they stared at me as if they thought me demented. Next their voices rang out in a peal of laughter. Fiends," I hissed, "come and see for your- selves if this is a laughing matter." I strode back to the room, followed by the whole family. Then I tore the wrappings from the still form of the infant, and turned to the women, who were still heartlessly laughing. Look See for yourselves The poor thing is suffocated The cat did it." Another peal of laughter, amid which a shaky female voice gasped, He—he took Nannie's rag uoll for r. baby-ha. ha I"
The " Hotel De Marl." ;J
The Hotel De Marl." J -» { EXTRAORDINARY SCENES?ATfl GRANSETOWN. J™ Salvation Lasses in tiie^Pit/% [BY OUR SPECIAL COMMISSIONER. 3 Twice previously I have described the "Hotel de Marl," but on this third Sunday there were incidents connected with this flourishing institu- tion which were wanting on the other occasions. Clive-street, Grangetcwn, at 3 p.m. on Sunday presented the appearance of a suburban street through which a menagerie procession or other uncommon spectacle had just passed. Women were standing at the door, of each house discussing the passers-by. There's Jim off for a. quart," said one, referring to a. quiet-looking work- ing man who was strolling towards the railings, whilst the re- mark, Hello! here's Tom got a skinful," requires no explana- tion. Outside the Clive-street Baptist Chapel, where] the Sunday scholars were just assembling, two urchins were playing. One lay stiffly on the ground, and the other wa.s trying to drag him to an upright position. Failing in this he called for aid, telling a third small boy that they were marling." He had previously seen a couple of men who had left the "club" engaged in the same occupation, and it struck him as being a funny game. Thus do the younger dramatists burlesque the older ones. Matters were rather slow when I reached the original" Hotel de Marl. The money was tardy in coming in, and the flow of beer was thus temporarily checked. That it had been rapid enough was evidenced by the fact that several men, hopolessly drunk, lay sprawled over the gravel, whilst many of the numerous company found seats on upturned and empty casks. The chairman, a new hand, by the way, was now designated the "cashier," and he endeavoured to be humorously earnest in soliciting subscriptions for the next 4% gallon cask. Now, my gallant boozers,"he would cry, the beer's off for ten minutes till the chips roll in. This way for the kitty, gentlemen, there's only 9d in the pool. Four-and-six only required. There's plenty of stuff in the stores to-day. We'll never drink 'em dry at this rate." A hoarse guffaw from the gallant boozers and gentlemen assembled in the marl pit greeted this sally, whilst one or two rose and deposited coppers on a piece of carpet near the barrel on tap-but the sub- scription list did not grow rapidly. So an appeal to the crowd of sightseers on the bank was necessary If you'd only stop gaping and weigh in with the 'oof, you'd be some good. Did ye never see a chap lapping up a sleever of beer before ? Come down and join the merry circle. Open yer 'art's and yer pockets." At this point a gallant and gentlemanly boozer rose from the semi-circle, walked out a few paces into the more open part of the excavation, and became violently sick. The spectacle was repulsive enough even for the mixed crowd on the edge, gazing three deep at the comedy beneath, but tho rough wit of the cashier" was equal to the occasion. "Barman!" he shouted, fetch some sawdust, and stop his beer for two hours." And a cackle of laughter from pit and gallery showed that the play was saved But thp applause be- came furious and sus- tained when two Sal- vation Army lasses appeared on the scene. Arrayed in their well-known cos- tume, and armed with a bundle of copies of tho War Cry, they advanced into the pit. Probably in the next issue of that remark- able journal we may read, "Captain Clay and Lieutenant Smith attacked the devil on Sunday afternoon. They assaulted the infernal regions of Grangetowa, and pelted the ministers of Satan with hymns and holiness." The leader, Captain Clay, was a pale-faced woman, with largo earnest eyes, whilst her com- panion was of more robust build. Their arrival naturally created a sensation. Cheers and laughter from the spectators, strong expressions of astonishment from the pittites, showed that this Hank attack was unexpected, and even the utterly drunken ones stirred uneasily in their Baohanalian slumber as though anxious to par tici- pate in the joke. But they could not—so shifted their heads to another stone, and slept on. The two women succeeded in selling several copies of the IVar Cry, and after some few minutes had elapsed asked the "cashier" if they might sing. He promptly ruled them out of order. We are here for drinking, not praying," he replied, with a certain amount of truth in his dictum. But some clamoured for the hymn, whilst others as vigorously protested. The not contents were in the minority, but they were a noisy one. One man, an Irishman, who. if asked where he came from, would probably have answered, "From the County Mayo, God help me," was particularly annoyed at this attempt to proselytise the frequenters of the Hotel de Marl. He bitterly resented the Salvationist intrusion, and led tho objectors in a lond and cursing wrangle which followed. "It']1 do you no bloomin' harm," roared a youth at him. Shut^ yer mouth, or I'll do yon some bloomin' harm," was the answer. "Fwhat the ould bhoy do we want with women here, at all, at all? The majority prevailed, apd then cashier" ultimately told the Salvationists that they might sing, but he vainly appealed for order. "Let 'em have a chance," he roared. Stop the tap, barman, when the harmonium starts. No beer during the hymn." It was of no avail. Those who disliked religion being introduced into their drunken revels would not keep quiet, so the hymn pro- ceeded as follows:— Man may trouble and distress me, ("Oh, chuck it."} Twill but drive me to Thy breast; (" Go it, Eliza," groans, and cheers.) Life with trials hard may press me, Heaven will bring me sweeter rest. Here a momentary and almost successful diver- sion was created by someone starting, "She's my sweetheart, I'm her joy," but the shrill voices of the Salvation lasses drowned the quavering baritone as they went on,- Oh, 'tis not in grief to harm me (" Choke her with beer, Micky.) While Thy love is left to me. Oh. 'twere not in joy to charm me, Were that joy unmixed with Thee "Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ayl" whooped the "cashier," and the mob shrieked with unmitigated delight. This was glorious. No greater fun could be had on the variety stage. During the chorus—sacred words which I will not transcribe in this connec- L tion—the "barman "opened the War Cry, and holding it with one hand in mock perusal, with the other he beat tnne, singing the while in some sort of unison with the thin soprano of the pale-faeed woman and the somewhat uncertain contralto of her companion. ( Aud the air-poor Lady Arthur Hill !-It was In the gloaming." In queer places and to queerer words has that pretty tune been sung, but surely there can never again be such a com- bination of odd circumstances as in that marl pit on Sunday. I may remark, en passant, that in the Salvation Army hymn-book it is stated that the hymn No. 54 may be sung to the aits of "Just before the battle, mother," The cottage by the sea," and "The gipsy's warning." But we left the "cashier" trying to imitate Lottie Collins on top of his barrel. The noise became so great at the end of the hymn that the Salvationists abandoned the singing as hopeless. But Captain Clay ha.d a martial soul. Closing her eyes, and pitching her voice to as sbrili a note as possible, she began :—" My dear brethren, there is One who died on Calvary to save your souls, and I beseech you to think of Him this day. Oh Lord, look down upon these men and manifest your mercy by turning them into the right pafih." Thus far she got, repeating each few words half-a-dozen times, but it was useless to persevere. and she at last. desiettd. Truly there was a spice of madness in the scene. One might have wept at the spectacle were it not that the wildness of the combined elements absorbed the attention and left but little space for calm reflection. There were three other "clubs" in the marl pits, and a fifth institutioif flourished apace in the Tanyard-road, between Grangetown Station and Canton Common. There could not be the slightest pretence on Sunday that the men were gathered in crderly protest against a law which denied them reasonable refreshment. Thev had banded together for the solo purpose of get- ting drunk, as quickly, thoroughly, and pleasantly as might be. They were net so sensitive this time concerning the presence of women and children. It is true they chased away the more aggressive of the urchins, but it was only occasionally, and in a half hearted manner. What a queer man ijord Windsor must be," said one woman in the crowd to another. I always thought his lord- ship was a very good man, and surely he can't know ot \VII:)," is gC,DJ oil hcio. Yes, my good woman, Lord Windsor does know, and Mr Robert Forrest, his agent, knows but, so far, the Hotel de Marl" is a protected institution on the Windsor estate. It may be that some faint notion exists that the Grangetown drunkards are protesting against Sunday clos'ng. Well, all I know is that the Barman would not care much what the day of the week was when beer was on the board. The manner in which he emptied a "sleever" at a draught won the admiration of the mob. Jerusalem That's the way to shift it." Great Scott What a. swaller." These and similar applauding remarks showed that he protested with beer much as Pooh-Bah is insulted" in the Mikado. The deeper the draught the greater the pro. test." I was told by au onlooker that during the morning beer had been actually sold and paid for, and that the Grangetown sergeant of police had taken the names of the offenders, but I can- not verify this statement, as the sergeant was not in when I called at the police-statnon. But this is matterless. It is a distinct offence and is easily dealt with. The question at issue is this :— Provided the rules of the Hotel de Marl are observed, is it a legal institution ? If it be, then we shall have lively times when the movement spreads throughout the Principality. THE PARENT CLUB. The parent club, which was started some 12 months ago, on a field near the gas works, on the south side cf Ponarth-rcad, flourishes still on ground between the Taff Vale Railway and Leckwith Common. Since leaving the gas- works field the members were privileged to meet for some time on the north side of Penarth-road, and adjoining the Taff Vale Railway, and recently thev were moved to their present quarters. The spot is pleasantly situated on the west side of the railway embankment, facing the Leckwith Common and hills, the view and surroundings being pleasurable, apart from the alcoholic accompaniment, and immensely superior to those of the Marl Pit offshoot. The parent has flourished so well ever since the estab- lishment of the Hotel de Marl" that on" Sunday two additional offshoots made their "pools," and swilled their liquor to the manner born under the fostering care and in the vicinity of the old one. Each of the three sets was well attended, the numbers varying according as visitors arrived or left, but those who seemed to have gone there to stay and drink would total from SO to 100. During the greater part of the day business was brisk, and it would be well within the mark to say that at least 30 to 40 4%-gallon casks of XX and XXX ale were disposed of. The liquor, which was sup- plied from a wholesale house in Dorset-street, Upper Grangetown, was, judging from one par- ticular sample glassful, not in itself particularly attractive. By four o'clock in the afternoon several members in each set had ceased imbibin"- and enjoying the surrounding beauties of nature", and had stretched themselves in dead sleep on the gras-sy slopes and meadow. Otbers went rolling about pretty well tight," whilst a band of lively spirits started racing, jumping, and other athletic sports. And they were sports Not exactly Olympian in character. Harmony prevailed all round them, and there seemed no likelihood of it being disturbed. In conversation with a few of the respectable residents in Upper Grange, I was told that the clubs break up sometimes very late, and that menibsrs on their way home disturb the calm of the Sunday evenings with boisterous and often lilthy language, but, so far as they knew, thero had been no fighting in the immediate neighbour- hood. One gentleman stated that beiorethfs Sunday Closing Act camo mto operation there used to be Very little drunkenness, which at that time was seen more openly in tbe front streets, whereas recently it haa increased there tenfold, and was more prevalent in the back streets, con- sequently was not witnessed by the general public. CATHAYS AND CANTON. During the past weefi rninours were rife that clubs were to bo opened on Canton Common, and in the- vicinity of the top of Crwys-road, Cathays; but, on inquiry on Sunday I found jfchat this had not been done. Canton "Common belongs to the Cardiff Corporation, who, of course, would not permit such an institution to be established on their property whilst out Crwys-road way mostof the available ground is private,, or near the barracks and the cemetery, and would not fcs let for the purpose.
A WATER SUPPLY FOR THE JOINT…
A WATER SUPPLY FOR THE JOINT COUNTIES. Scheme of Mr Gwilym Evans. The question of water supply for the Joint Counties of Carmarthenshire and Glamorgan- shire has been occupying the attention of Mr Gwilym Evans, the chairman of the Carmarthen- shire County Council, and that gentleman has been pleased to place a few of his ideas in the possession of our Llanelly representative. In the course of an interesting interview Mr Gwilym Evans stated that he had no scheme to offer, but it had occurred to him that, as this question of water supply was one of supreme incment, joint action in respect of securing the water of the Towy for the domestic and trade purposes of Carmarthenshire and certain districts of Glamor- ganshire, particularly Swansea and Mumbles. The question was of more than ordinary im- portance in view of the fact that the same source of supply was being looked to for supplying the nee-ds of London. Mr Evans, indeed, stated that it was within his own personal knowledge that plans were being prepared of the district for submission to the London County Council as one of the schemes for supplying the needs of the Metropolis. Sir Husscy Vivian, continued Mr Gwilym Evans, had done a great deal to direct attention to the question, as in his evidence before the committee of the House of Commons that gentleman had remarked that if the population of Xtles increased during the next 50 years as it had done in the preceding 50, there would not be a drop of water to spare for the use of outside corporations. Mr Gwilym Evans went on to observe that with regard to the question of supply for the district named, he believed there wero few, if any, difficulties of an engineering naftre in the way of the construc- tion of an enormous reservoir at Vanog, a short distance beyond Twm Shon Catti's Cave. At that spot the river ran through a gorge, which, if it were dammed up, would form a splendid reser- voir some hundreds of yards in extent. There would, too, be this great advantage-tho collecting ground would be above the cultivated area, so that the water would be free from any contamination. Another fact of importance was that the surrounding laad was not valuable, and there were no minerals to interfere with any scheme. The supply, moreover, would be practically unlimited, and would be enough to provide for all the large centres in the district. He foresaw no difficulty in laying alinecf pipes to Llandilo. and thence branching off to Carmar- then, taking in Ammanford, Pontardulais, Lfan- gennech, Llanelly, Pembrey, and Kidwelly, if it were thought fit. On the other side, it would be possible to supply Swansea, Mumbles, Mumbles- road, G-orsemon, &c. The initial difficulty would be in gotting the respective corporations and authorities to combine to carry out the work and the inevitably great outlay necessary also the difficulty in respeetof theland, having regard to the fact that the pipes would have, perforce, to run through several estates. In conclusion, Mr Gwilym Evans stated that, considering the fact that so many places were in need cf a better water supply, there ought to be no difficulty in raising the necessary capita), A reservoir had been built some 15 years ago at Llanelly, costing about £ 80,000, but to-day the need cf another existed at a cost no less. Furthermore, the rural districts were without a sufncient supply, and the develop- ment of Burry Port was being retarded for the want of a larger and more certain supply. Asked if he could give any idea as to the cost of the scheme, Mr Evans hesitated to mention any figure, but thought himself safe in mention- ing that, in comparison with the Liverpool and Birmingham schemes, it would be exceeding small, Although nothing bad as yet been done, the county council had appointed a small committee to watch over the interests of its constituents.
AN INCIDENT AT THE CHAPEL…
AN INCIDENT AT THE CHAPEL ROYAL. A correspondent writes: Mr Gladstone's narrow escape from what might have been a serious, if not fatal, accident the other Sunday at the Chapel Royal, does not seem to have found its way into the papers. On the morning m question amongst the worshippers in the front row of the gallery of the chapel was a gentleman, well known in the West of England, and his little son. Before the service began, and while the congregation were still entering, the former pointed out to the boy the various celebrities present. There," he said, as the Premier entered, exactly underneath the spot where they were sitting, "is Mr Gladstone." The boy, eager to see the Grand Old Man, leiint forward over the edge of the gallery, and in dotng so toppled over a ponderous family Bible, which fell with a thud at the Premier's feet, coming within a hair's breadth of striking him. Had it done so the consequences could hardly have failed to be most disastrous, for the height from the gallery to the floor of the aisle is considerable, and the heavy volume had attained no little velocity. ¡ it'"
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IWales and the LabourI ICommission.
Wales and the Labour I Commission. _-n'- Reports of the Assistant Com- missioner for Wales. [FROM OUR LONDON WELSH CORRESPONDENT. ] 1 The reports of the inquiries, held by Mr D. Lleufer Thomas during the year 1892, into the condition of the agricultural labourer in Wales, although they have been for some time before the Royal Commission on Labour, have not yet been made public. In view, however, of the im- portant bearing of Mr Thomas's inquiries to the questions which will have to be dealt with I by the Welsh Land Commission, now about to commence upon its duties, the Duke of Devonshire ) (chairman of the Labour Commission) has given permission for the supply of copies of these re- ports to the Land Commissioners for their con- fidential use. The reports will, no doubt, be published before very long, and it is hardly necessary to say that they will be found of the utmost interest and utility to all who seek to understand the agrarian and labour question in the Principality. Meanwhile I am in a position I' to furnish the following fairly-complete summary cf the general report :— Mr Lleufer Thomas, in the course of his inquiry, visited the following seven selected Poor Law Unions in Worth and South Wales, viz. :— 1. Bridgend and Cowbridge {Glamorganshiie). 2. Narberth (Pembrokeshire and Carmarthen- shire). 3. Dolgelley (Merioneth). 4. Ruthin (Denbighshire). 5. Anglesey (Anglesey). 6. Llanfyllin (Montgomeryshire). 7. Pwllheli (Carnarvonshire). In respect of each Union a full detailed repoit will be published, but in "addition to this Mr Thomas has formed a general report,- in which he gives a summary of the facts and a comparison of the conditions existing in different districts. The introduction, after noting the scope of the report, deals with the pro- portion of population engaged in agriculture. According to the census of 1881 (that of 1891 has not yet been classified according to occupations), agricultural labourers amounted to 3'3 per cent. of the population but if the proportion to the whole population of all persons engaged m agri- culture be considered, the amount would be 11 per cent. for Wales alone as compared with 5*3 per cent, for the whole of England and Wales. Mr Thomas then sketches the conditions under which cultivation is carried on. Speaking generally, he points out that ownership is dis- tributed between a comparatively large number of persons, with the result that there are but few really large estates (of agricultural land only) in Wales. In the Narberth Union and western South Wales the commissioner met largely with the land-monger and excessive competition, which produces the mortgaged freeholder and the tenant with inadequate capital. "In North Wales, as a rule, farmers leave the purchasing of their holdings to the gentry, to *ihe professional clasp, and to the capitalist, so that the mortgaged freeholder is not so commonly met with, Lleyn probably being the cnly district where lie is encountered." "There is also in North Wales a better understanding among farmers so as not to compete for the occupation of farms. Perhaps it is in Angleasy that this spirit of competition approaches nearest to what it is in South-West Wales." The older clasn'of hereditary yeomen have all but disappeared, particularly in .the Bridgend and the Llanfyllin Unions. In dealing with the relations between the landowner, cccupier, and labourer, Mr Thomas points cut that there are practically only two great classes dependent on the land in Wales, viz., those who own toile land and those who cultivate it, and they are separated by well- marked lines of difference, chief among which perhaps is the difference of languages. Except in the Vale of Clwyd, and in a lesser degree in Anglesey, there is no well-marked distinction between farmers and labourers. In the two dis- tricts mentioned there appears to be a tendency to caste, resulting in a distinct peasant class separate from the farmer class, and here the com- missioner found more room for hostile feeling between employcr and empiQyed than elsewhere. After considering with the general characteristics of agricultural employment in Wale?, Mr Thomas proceeds to deal with The Supply of Labour. The supply of labourers fluctuates with the conditions of other industries, but of the unions visited by the commissioner, the only districts where a continuous as opposed to a merely inter- mittent scarcity of labourers is felt are the Bridgend and Cowbridge Unions and certain portions of the Narberth and Lianfyllin Unions. Labourers from Wilts, Somerset, and Devon, from Hereford and the Cirenoester dis- trict have almost everywhere superseded the indigenous Welsh labourer in the Vale of Glamorgan, excepting along the seaboard. But even the newcomers are 80011 attracted by higher wages and shorter hours to the mineral districts. In addition to competing industries, tbTo is a largemigration from agricultural Wales (especially Montgomeryshire) to the United States. In no part of Wale? .chore at any time or season of the year any appreciable number of agricultural labourers out of employment. The immigration of English lads from reformatories, ragged sehools, &c., into South-West Wa^es is pointed oat by Mr Thorn* a*, a tnatter requiring attention. Since 1851 there has been a steady decrease in the number of agricultural labourers. The principal causes are. 1. The increase of per- manent pasture at the expense of arable land. 2. The introduction of labour-saving machinery. 3. Tha enlargement of farms by the amalgama- tion of smallholdings, and the multiplication of bye-takes and a want of confidence between land- lord and tenant, which seriously alfects the manner in which farming is carried on. The greatest decrease is in the number of females employed, and there exists in places a great scarcity of female servants for agricultural work. Con) plaints as to the deterioration of labourers were frequently made during the inquiry, but on close investigation the commissioner found that they were not altogether well-founded." The truth appears to be that there is no one to teach the younger men as they grow np, for farmers are continually dispensing with their best men for the sake of retrenchment. Mr Thomas next proceeds to con- sider what can -agricultural education do for the labourers, and gives an account of the iut-college instruction in agriculture imparted by the institutions located at Bangor and Aberystwyth respectively. Comparing the labourers of different districts, the commissioner is led to the conclusion that in North Wales the labourers of the Pwllheli Union excel as carters and stock- men and in general fatten dance upon animals, and that Anglesey labourers have the greatest skill in ploughing and general cultivation. The labourers of tbe Doigelley and Lianfyllin Unions rank highest for industry, while the greatest skill in thatching and stack-making is to be found on the western coast. On the whole Welsh labourers compare favourably with their English and Scottish brethren. Conditions ef Agreement. Agricultural employment in Wales is almost in every case regular and continuous. As to the period of engagement it is a fairly accurate generalisation to state that young, unmarried people of both sexes are engaged as yearly or half-yearly servants, being lodged and boarded on the premises, and that married labourers are chiefly, though not exclusively, engaged by the week, being boarded on working days at the farmhouse, but living with their families in separate cottages. The agreement for engage- ment is always a verbal one, but a small sum of money is given as an earnest of the contract. In the Narberth Union the practice of disregarding the engagement if anything unsatisfactory is heard of the character of the new place has be- come deplorably common. In such cases the earnest money is generally returned, and there is no legal remedy for the breach of the contract, as it does not satisfy the requirements of the Statute of Frauds. The hiring term varies in different districts. The hours of work have almost everywhere undergone a certain curtailment within the last 20 years. The normal day for ordinary labourers, exclusive of meal times, ranges from 10% to 11% hours, but indoor servants and those in charge of animals have considerably longer hours. Maidservants have the longest hours, and those who are engaged on the farm. The excessive time jgives opportunities for that illicit intercourse which is so productive of immorality among their class. Numerous holidays are allowed, but a weekly half-holiday is rare and not generally desired. Wages and Earnings There is no uniformity in the rate cf agricul- tural wages. If the Bridgend and Cowbridge Union be excluded the average rate of payment throughout all the other districts visited by the commissioner would range from 7s 6d to 10s a week on the employer's finding, or from 12s to 168 a week on the labourer's own food. Day labourers and harvest men are often paid at a higher rate. Piecework is very rare, and there are difficulties against the adoption Of the system. Practically the only payment in kind is the food given to the labour erson weekdays in addi- tion to money wages. Atter dealing with the labourer's diet, M Thomas puts down the esti- mated total annual earnings of labourers as follows:—Bridgend and Cowbridge Unions, about £45; Narberth Union, North, from £26 8s on I do. South, from £ 35 to £ 40 Lianfyllin, from £ 35 to £ 38 Dolgelley, from £ 36 to £ 44-; Ruthin, from £ 38 to £ 40 Anglesey, from £ 38 to £ 43 Pwllheli, from £ 36 to £ 40. to £43 Pwllheli, from £36 to £40. Another point deserving of attention is that of cottage accommodation. The commissioner deals with the fact thatvery few cottages are built tosup- ply the phce of theuninhabitable ones, and the diffi- culty arising from the non-unifermity of the dis- tribution of the supply of cottages which often compels labourers to work at a considerable dis- tance from their homes. South Glamorganshire holds a unique position in the whole of Wales, inasmuch as most of the farmhouses, and practi- cally all the labourers' cottages in each parish or hamlet are grouped together in a village, while the land of each holding radiates ont from that common centre. This feature is the result of natural growth, and not of recent change, and is probably the product of a very complete and sys- tematic development of the manorial system in the Vale of Glamorgan, while it owes its subse- quent preservation perhaps to the fact that it provided the best protection against the frequent raids of the pirates that infested that coast. Of recent years isolated cottages have been largely superseded by villages, ana the older type of un- satisfactory cottages is being gradually superseded by modem ones, better planned. The general sanitarv condition of the dwellings is still far from satisfactory, and there is great need of popular instruction in hygiene. With respect to i Gardens and Allotments. v tfc^Gotflmissioner points out that garden* are generally attached to every cottage. They are, as a rule, small, but they are well cultivated, especially in South Wales. Allotments. he observes, are not popular in Wales, nor can it lA said that there is much demand for them. Potato grounds, on the other hand, are to be found every- where in Wales, and, as a rule, are universally popular with both labourers and farmers, but they have considerably diminished within recent years. Cow-runs are almost non-existent, except- ing perhaps in Pembrokeshire, and pig-keeping, although still very general, is less so than formerly. Considerably less than one half of the labourers keep any poultry, and the same may also be said of bee-keeping, thouc-h ihere IS plenty of natural food for bees in almost every district. In dealing with the question of Benefit Societies and Othe:* Frovident Institutiens. Mr Thomas points out this kind of provision for sickness and old age does not appear to have gamed a firm hold in many parts of Wales. There are no county benefit societies in the proper sense in Wales. The nearest approach to ono is the United Counties' Societv, started in 1874 through the efforts of the late" Mr W. U. H. Powell, of Maesgwynne. The greater number of benefit societies are local and independent institutions or branches of the English Orders of Oddfellows, Ivorites, or Foresters. Very little general nso is made by labourers of the Post Office banks, and young men and women are probably less thrifty than the previous generation of 15 years ago. Irade Unions of Agricultural Labourers. There is a total absence of any organisation of the nature of Trado Umon among the agricul- tural labourers in Wales. Temporary combina- tions have been occasionally attempted, cluefiy with the object of obtaining a reduction of the hours of labour. The most formidable was made m Anglesey some three or four years nsro. In some cases these attempts have procluced somf) good in calling public attention to certain real CTievaneos''under which the labourers Jived, and in making employers ashamed cf continuing them. but in other respects it has tended to pro. duce greater friction between the parties. With regard to the General Relations between Employer and Employed. the commissioner points out that the goodwill of the labourer depends largely on his treatment. The greatest problem of agricultural labour in Wales is the position of the indoor servant, and it is he that evinces the greatest dissatisfaction with the conditions of employment. He does so in South Wales by abruptly terminating his engagement and going off to the works if he k displeased in any respect. His mode of warfare in North Wales is one cf stolid inactivity. revenging himself on his employer by doing as little work as he possibly can. General Condition. As to the general condition, in South Wak» the labourer is probably in a better position that? he has ever been before, while in North Waios It.. was slightly better off perhaps about 1879, though his condition a.t present is fairly satisfactory. Education and recreation are the chief wants of the labourers at the present time. Besides the general want of some healthy systematic recreation of either physical or intellectual character, unmarried servants labour under the additional disadvantage of unsatisfactory accommodation. The present arrangements facilitate immorality. Hereditary and racial characteristics may have something to do with anti-icrarital irregularities in Wales and Scotland, but it is undeniable that the out-sleep- ing customs is responsible for much of the evil. In all other respects the moral character of the labourers of Wales is highly satisfactory. In conclusion. Mr Thomas summarises the suggested remedies for improving the condition of the labourer as follows :— 1. Improved sleeping accommodation for ser- vants the provision of a separate living room, with fire and light in winter and the supervision of these rooms by the officers of the sanitary authority. 2. A redistribution of the meal hours, so as to reduce the long interval between ideals, especially that between breakfast and dinner. 3. The adoption for servants in permanent engagements of different rates of payments for summer and winter. 4. Certain change in the legal effect of ordinary hiring agreements. 5. Payment of the wages of all unmarried taoourers on the Thursday or Friday, instead of Saturday mght. 6. Popular instruction in agriculture and kindred subjects by means of extension lectures, evening schools, and experimental work. 7. Saturday half-holiday (in certain seasons) if the evenings could be utilised for holding classes for agricultural instruction. 8. The encouragement of cottage gardening* bee-keeping, by means of local garden shows. 9. Popular instruction in hygiene and cookery. 10. The holding of all cottages independently of temployment, and subject to no restrictive conditions as to work. 11. The formation of small libraries in connec- tion with country churches and chapels, and the establishment in the larger villages of institutes, where, among other things, the monthly meetings of friendly societies could'be held. 12. The more generous treatment of mtmbrr; of friendly societies who have to apply for parish rehef, so as to differentiate them from those who have made no proti'sion for sickness and old age. 13. A stricter Government supervision of all friendly societies. 14. To give local postmasters some personal interest in encouraging thrift. There is also a very general desire for an in- crease in the number of small holdings, but this is only m part due to a desire to improve one's position, being partly also attributable to thfr characteristic land hunger of the Principality. "The path for the future improvement of the- labourer appears to lie among all that tends educate him for his own special work. Therein first of all, the need of a self-education in thosf qualities of character in which he is cuieflj deficient—self-reliance and self-control. Besidef. this, everything that tends to create in him f greater interest in rural life, to inr crease his efficiency in the exercise of manual skill, and the application of f, quickened interest, will cause his servioes to bt more appreciated, will render his cwn position more assured, win his employer, and make him in every respect a better citizen." To the report appendices are affixed, showing the numbei* of labourers engaged in agriculture, 1851-81, the proportional distribution of the agricultural population of the Welsh counties m 1881, a comt parisonol the rate of illegitrmcy in different dis- tncts, and giving an account of agricultural education in Wales, and the influence of thv eisteddfod and Sunday school.
-----------.-LORD CAWDOR &…
LORD CAWDOR & HIS TENANTS, [FROM A CORRESPONDENT.] Considerable interest has been excited in West Carmarthenshire for some days by the rumour of a prospective eviction on the estate of Lord Cawdor. A butcher named Evans has for several years past occupied a cottage at Velindre, a little village in the parish of Peuboyr. On the death of Grace Evans he (lid not actually or legally take over the tenancy—so says one, to be, perhaps, disputed by another—but as each ren* day came round he turned up with the welcow, wherewithal, and was evidently recognised 4l the deceased's representative, seeing that nt ostensible objection was made to his occupation. He was virtually allowed to live in a smaif dwelling belonging to the Scotch laird, and lK doubt he thought he would remain there undiar turbed as long as he liked to pay the yearly demand. This becomes apparent, for lnK- action. With the result of his labours, he buildf a slaughter-house and a kitchen, and is, naturally., not a little surprised at being requested to "take up his bed and walk," after, mind you, no incon- siderable oontention over a boundary wall Evans did not want to be removed for obvicraf reasons, but if the agent, Mr T. T. Mousley, insisted upon a change in the tenancy, then thf. butcher meant to ha.ve his "pound of flesh." TIK, matter had taken such a turn th!6t it became the common talk of the neighbourhood, and hit influential friends considered it would be a shame and a disgrace—in fact, a cruelty-—to evict the man under the circumstances. And when legal steps to obtain possef-siof were about to be publicly instituted, the interest in the case increased, and it was thought The Lawv. thcButcher "would create quitea sensation. Preparations to apply for an order of the New castle Emlyn Bench on Friday were being made, but, fortunately for the representative ol the House of Cawdor, common sens*, stepped in and suggested a course tbat- would enrich the weak and not impoverish the strong. £30 payable by Lord Cawdor and £10 by the incoming tenant (one Mcrris Owen) were the terms agreed upon. The arrangement is one which has given satisfaction to both parties con. cerned, and to the neighbourhood generally.
ROBBERY VVITH VIOLENCE AT…
ROBBERY VVITH VIOLENCE AT CARDIFF. Before Mr C. H. Evans, Dr. H. J. Paine, and s Alderman D. Jones, at Cardiff Police-court on Monday morning, Henry Thomas. William Phillips, Nellie Nathan, and Mary Conne'l were placed in the dock charged with stealing with violence from the person of Christopher John 22s 6d and a pocket knife at No. 2, Canal Bank, on the 20th inst. Prosecutor, who hails from Bridgend, said that he met the female prisonera in the Thatched House, Bute-street, about six o'clock on Saturday evening, and accompanied them to 3No. 2, Canal Bank. Both then Mked him to "stand treat," and he gave them 2s 6d, afterwards saying that he wanted to ft go. They barred his progress, how- ever, one of them saying, Your^life or your money has got to go The wo.nea afterwards called up the two men, and Phillips, wbc entered the room first, clutched him by tha throat and threw witness on the bed. The women held his arms and Thomas searched his pockets, taking his knife and the 22s 6d. The struggle after the men came on the scene was. very shortlived.—P.C. John PetherMn deposed to arresting prisoners, and finding on Thomas prosecutor'3 knife.—They were all subsequently committed to the assizes, bail being allowed.—Mi- George David defended Thomas.
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