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A CHILD OF NATURE. .
A CHILD OF NATURE. A Story of Life in Cardiff. By E. PATrEKSON, Author of "Tales of Cardiff." CHAPTER X. Take that, you Cur After a few brief moments locked in each other's aims, Giynarth made Agnes as comfort- able a, seat as he could under the circumstances, And in truth the gul needed help, for she was weak and stiff from her enforced imprisonment Mid want of food. Then he plied her with ques- tions as to how she came to be shut up in the iottage. But beyond telling him that her captor had visited her the evening before, and iad announced his intention of doing so every Sight until she promised to give Giynarth up, she lould not teil him anything more than the reader already knows. And when she had given him all the information she could he ceased bis questions and relapsed into silence. Day was now slowly disappearing and night ilowiy creeping up from the east the workers ) f In the gardens round about had all gone home, bnd the whole scene wore a look of tranquility. j •J Still Giynarth sat in ctep thought, wondering who it could be that had dared to make Agnes a prisoner m a tumble down hovel. Who was jj\ the prime eause of her incarceration he knew, or ab least he surmised who it was but how to 'jj, bring the crime home to him was what troubled ;1, Blynartb. At last, rising to his feet from his leak on the window sil1, the shutters of which he )ad now Laken down to admit more air ? Into the place, he bade Agnes not to i< tell anyone where she had been during the £ past two day*, nor anything about the matter, if Ihe could possibly help do;ng so uiitit he gave her permission. He had now made up his mind what *•. to do. Then putting up the shutters to the | irindow again and closing the door, he jr !ed her away towards the town, supporting I her as well as he could until they reached theroad where people were moving about. He then j, released his hold of her and walked by her side antil they reached his father's shop. He did leave her to go to the Freeman's Arms Court. He had other plans in view. He knew his mother tad a kindly, motheriy heart, apart from the fact that she was always ready to meet; his wishes, and an this evening he meant to put her to the test, ptfcle fearing that she would readily fall in with )is views. Agnes slowly reoo&foi. Bidding Agnes iol-w hird he entered jhe ?• ihop, and after jr'. lS'Jer>on' a ft?w words to his lather, who yC ".e"ind the c enter, he led v Jhe girl ,}eD lnt)er rjom &nd bade her be Jeatedo Irom his garditig the looks of utter i UDpreff.,) lJnger brother f and two sisters «fliiousIy intr«#i.,«- °°n^aot (lof thus uncere- <faeir respectable m vf J11'01-' id stranger into a"d, as briefl he rew ,lis .where he hart ■/ 38 P°ss'Me.l r, explained how nee>ci of m, n ,D" tbejrmfirl, and her now The Story atteDf m'ion- Jff Jras more ihan on,,„ ?,fc,*ble c condition of Agnes P* »f Mrs Oiver, M>?)0 to exc te the sympathy & gT'rl's W;,n.. once set ,about to attend to i enjoined his moth' W'e Glr1 ynarth, who had i>rder to prevent th silent be^e on the matter in H *°. warn the ahdtir»^ SCl>ry fron,idw gating about and I *ith his father Wea" mf' -o the shop and did bother—enlisted thl ije done with his *»d persuaded him t, Sympathy for Agnes present. Having e story to no one at room, and •««> 6 ,J!v,\ he returned to the JTOod hands, he stoJ« fcMi. the girl was in an tern used for U(! out• secured a dark «ouse and the store-r" J iI:r and fro between the as possible haVt>0II° ext1,> aQd bent his steps as f8* as the ° t'le garden, which he fmJr,' and night proc,ate vestige of twilight faded \m-g a quiok m;<Pe"r assumed her reign. Vh 'n- ''Je now f&' t tauce at the landscape around Inight be w a'rY -ib gathering darkness, to see 1 *■* '^erfnetching his movements, he with- | dr e^»l%cf "i £ "from the shntters, climbed in by Jjj^ the window, and pub up the shntters again. Before going home lie had driven the staple into the doorpost again, and so secured the door. When he had fastened the window and shutters "he struck a match and hb his lamp, turned the ihade across the glass, and stood near the door to ifcw&it whatever might occur next. In the night Agnes had been dragged into the EM?V tombledown cottage by an unknown hand for a ii, purpose_ more fitted to a hundred years ago than py?_ to the time cf which we write, and left there sagged and bound hand and foot with a barbarity bordering on devilishness and in the night Giynarth had retolved, if possible, to learn who it was who had treated her so brutally. When Agnes told him her captor had returned to her on the previous night, he naturally sup- posed that the abductor would repeat his visit as sooir as he thought it safe to do so. And after thinking the matter over, as we have seen before taking her to his mother, he decided to follow oat bis present plan for the detection of he offender. ^K. Slowly the time passed away to Glyn, as he crouched on a piece ot wood by the wall awaiting be knew not what. His thoughts were too busy with what had been revealed to him during the past few hour-, with conjecturing on who the wrongdoer would prove to be—supposing Glyn was fortunate enough to unmask him—and in what way he (Giynarth) should punish him for bis insane brutality to Agnes, for the time to B' bang heavily. Yet in the midst of it all no thought came to him of what might possibly happen to himself ere the matter was finished with. He did not realise the fact that he was in anything but a safe or detiirabld situation. He had nob taken into account, when forming his plans and hurrying to oarry them out, the possibility of the man—who ever he might prove 4o be—bein? so much his superior in point of strength or skill, and perhaps unscrupulous enough as to make him pay dearly for what he was doing. H He had not thought of himself, even if he were tufficiently selfish to allow a thought of bis danger to intrude itself on his plans. He wanted to see who had so dared to ill-use her, and— whether it was Christian-like or un-Christian-like —he was human enough to feel his heart throbbing and his fingers tingling to physically mark his sense of the injury done to Agnes, ■f In a word, his impulsive nature and leaping ■t Wood desired some substantial reparation to ^B satisfy his outraged feeliugs. Thus it was that ^B while awaiting the coming of the evil-doer he thought not that he himself might be the greatest Batterer in the conflict. When more than an By hour had passed away after he had lit his lamp, B* be heard a quiet, cautious step on the path which M" led to the cottage door. Then silence; and a ||t few moments later his ear detected the sound of a K/. key being inserted into the lock. Now his heart B& beat with redoubled energy, and he trembled ■I with intense excitement. His left hand gripped tbe handle of the lamp like a vice, and the B)' fingers of bis right band doubled themselves B* into the palm until the muscles of his Hr hand and arm shook with the tension. A little Hg. later and the door was quietly opened a man's SE^ form stepped into the aperture and stood silently there for a moment, and Giynarth felt a maddening impulse to administer at once that punishment his whole being hungered to give to the stranger, for he felt sure that this was the brutal abductor of Agnes. Bub he restrained K himself. Stepping softly into the cottage the man closed the door behind him. Giynarth stood rigidly by the wall, the muscles of his whole j." frame stiffened with excitement and anger. Half f a minute, which seemed quite half an hour to « Glyn awaiting silently in the darkness for what be considered to be the right moment to declare bis presence, passed away, during which he heard the man fumbling about his pockets, and the next moment the siience was broken by the man striking a match and saying, in a thick muffled tone: "Now, my fine lady, 'ow 're——" But he said Bo more. His ejaculation was cut off abruptly it' tw a stinging blow on the side of his head that I Bent him reeling. The burning match fell from his hand, and left the place in darkness. The man no sooner touched the floor than he eprang to his feet again, and striking another match, which he took from his pocket whiie rising from the floor, he rushed, with flashing eil behind his improvised crape mask, at Cr'ynai-th—who was now busy endeavouring to • turn the shade of his lamp which had somehow irot jnhimec,iiitl returned the blow with I interest fling open the door he dashed out of the cottage into the night, having Giynarth i to struggle to his feet with the mortification of being toiled in bis attempt to discover the identity of Agnes's persecutor. CHAPTER XI. ■ 4 An Asylum. < It is strange that night, the foster-mother of meditation and ail soul-uplifting: thought, and I which comes as a silent cloak to hide the glaring fins of day, should be at once the begetter and Mreener of those passions which are generally lying dormant through the day, as if afraid or ashamed to show themselves in the sunshine. Whatever is too sympathetic, too soft and tender, too bad or too good, too lovely or too repulsive for the garish and searching light of day finds its out- let in the night. In the night lite seems to un- loose, disrobe, and bathe itself its heartaches, Its passionate longings, its tears, its wil forbidden ey8 and pleasures, its wrongs, injustice, and its at, as if it found for its woes a balm and a oure, | *nd for its sir? a screen and a cloak therein. In | Ihe night, /ben angels—-we natmally think— I hover around m, if ever they do, ib seems that I devils are more unloosed and given a tenfold power. For more crimes are committed in and and hidden Ly a siDgJe night than seven days are called upon to bear. A serenely beauteous daylis, in contrast to a murky day, a Lucifer by the side of a Gabriel. Thus as we have seen Agnes had been deprived of her liberty in the night, and in the night her young lover had endangered himself to a great extent in order to discover who had so brutally ill-treated her, and in the night he was grievously foiled in his plans foiled, at least, for the present, for, young though he was, he was not one to be discouraged by the failure of a first attempt. And when he regained his feet with the knowledge that the man had actually escaped, he mentally vowed that if the thing were not im- possible he would yet know who had imprisoned her for two days in that dirty, miserable hovel. Having gathered himself together, he struck a light, re-lit his lamp, and cast its rays around in search of his hat, which had fallen from his head when he dropped under the man's blow. Having discovered his headgear, he turned to leave the place, and in doing so he saw lying on the opposite side of the room a man's cap. Walking over to where it Jay he picked it up, and found that it was an ordinary cloth cap such as many workmen wore at the time. By the aid of his lamp he gave it a rapid survey, but there was nothing in it out of the common, nothing about it by which to identify its owner. Thar, it belonged to the man who had escaped him he doubted not, because he knew it was not there when he and Agnes left in the evening. And so, although he could at present see no means of connecting it with the owner, he put it in his pocket, determined to make what be could of it later on. It was the only clue he had, and, faint though it was, he was not going to ailow it to pass unnoticed. After throwing the light of the lamp around the room, and having satisfied himself that nothing else remained, he left the cottage, closed the door, and bent his steps towards home, not very well pleased with himself at having failed in his object. When herarrived home it was getting late, and his father had already closed the shop. The younger members of the family had gone to bed, and when Giynarth entered his father asked where he had been. For once in his life the son refrained from giving his father a direct and truthful answer. He did not like to own himself foiled, and having failed so ignou>:nious!y, he felt somewhat reluctant to tell his father where he had been, and for what purpose, lest he should get a reprimanding for doing what he had on his II own responsibility. Moraover, he had a secret and unaccountable desire to get at the bottom of the matter himself, and so he simply and evasively answered that he bad been trying to find out something about who had kept the girl in the cottage, but had not discovered anything of account. As to the mark of the blow on the side of his face, given by the man just before rushing out of the cottage, although somewhat swollen and discoloured, he contrived to keep sufficiently out of sight as to prevent awkward questions being asked about it. When he entered the sitt;ng-rooin an exchange of glances took place between him and Agnes, who sat by the window in a comfortable chair, looking pale and weak, but much batter in conse- quence of the kindly attention of Glynarth's mother, an exchange of glances which on her part told him plainly that all was well up to the present, and conVt-yed from him to her the fact that he was disappointed in something, which something she at once diviued to be the unearth- ing of her persecutor. We say d'vined because Giynarth had not even to.d her of his intention to return to the cottage that n;gilt for the purpose of endeavouring to dis- cover the identity of her gaoler. As to what ought to be done, or what course to follow under tho circumstances, but very little had been said during his absence, owing to his father having been kept busy serving in the shop, and the whole affair, as far as possible, kept entirely from the younger members of the family. Thus it was that after Glynarth's return a. council was held as to what mode of procedure to take in the matter. That the girl was partly known to Mr and Mrs Owen will be at once seen by the fact of her haging frequently visited the shop for articles for Molly and the neighbours, but beyond the fact that she lived in Court, and W:1S the reputed daughter of Molly and Gumer. who were well known in the vicinity, Glanarth's parents knew nothing of her. tshe was a creature of a kind en- tirely out and beyond the pale of their lives and kind. And but for their natural kindness, and sympathy with her present condition, the chances are that Agnes would never-or at least for sorno year3 to come—have become so familiar with the interior of Glynarth's home. During the two hours or so spent by Agnes in the society cf Glynarth's mother, after his return to the cottage, the motherly woman had instinctively taken a peep into the girl's better nature. £ >he had talked with Agnes about her life in the court, and the treatment of her by those who lived there and, prompted by her woman's natural curiosity, had asked the girl many questions concerning her parents—Gomer and Molly — and, without gleaning many material facts owing to Agnes's manner of reply- ing to them, had guessed at much of the truth, and sympathised with the girl accordingly, nntii Agnes had won quite a large part of the kindly woman's heart. When Glynarth proposed during the council held after his return home that Agnrss should be allowed to remain under their roof until the following day, putting forward her weak condi- tion and her probable reception at the hands of Molly—a fact which had just been elicited from the girl-his mother readily agreed with him, and expressed it as her opinion of being the best thing to do under the circumstances. Owen himself said but little either way beyond the fact that he thought the best thing to do, and the right thing, would be to give the whole matter into the hands of the police. But in this he quietly, albeit, somewhat negatively, allowed himself to be overruled by his wife and son, and agreed with them that the girl's feelings should be first considered, which was, as Glynarth had during the council instilled by insinuation into her mind, and afterwards drawn out by inference, that the matter should be allowed to drop where it was, and that Agnes should remain with them until the following day and then return home. Thus it was that this unconventional child of Nature, this wild, rebellious briar rose, her half- developed, bud-like Gipsy beauty, toned down and softened by the pallor consequent on her two days' incarceration in the cottage, came tafind a night's asylum under the roof that sheltered her young lover, while their love was yet unknown and unsuspected by his parents. And when his mother had shown her into the room where she was to sleep with his two sisters, who lay slumbering, to whom the bitter heartaches and the passionate tears of a life like hers were things unknown and undreamt of, and had left her to disrobe and retire at her leisure, she cast her eye around the neat, cleanly room, with its walls decorated with small pictures, illuminated texts, bows of ribbon, and bits of clean, if common, lace. And when she had gazed around the room, and her mind had drunk its fill, her thoughts dwelt for a moment on the youthful occupants of the bed-their ages were respectively fourteen and sixteen years—and their peaceful lives in contrast to her own stormy one. But not with envy. In the bosom of this dark- eyt-d, passionate dweller of the squalid court envy had no place. Budding as she was into woman- hood, with &.1 a woman's quick instinctive feeling, depth of soul, and yearning tenderness lying halt asleep and almost untouched in her hot, young, and unconventional heart, she yet bad the trae womanliness to look with a kindly eye and thought at those better off in the world than herself. But she was tired, and the soft white bed was as inviting to her still aching body as it was strange, and relinquishing her thoughts of the two sisters she glided gently round to the opposite side ta where they lay, and sinking on her knees—as Giynarth had taught her to do-she offered her brief silent prayer to the One whose existence she neither understood nor questioned. Then slipping off her borrowed garments she laid her head on the soft pillow and closed her eyes in thankfulness, with a peace at her heart she had se'dom, if ever, felt before. CHAPTER XII, En Passant. And the bishop smiles, as on high he sits, At the scholar who writes and starves by fits And the girl, who her nightly needle plies. Looks out for the summer of life—and dies. ANON. Be me sowl, Molly, but it's a divil av a hard miathrpaaytt'd make. anyhow cried Ciay, laugh- ingly, to the virago who sat on a low stool by the I door of her bouse reviling Agnes on her supposed laziness. To Hoe so yeuvj. An* if you'd such a blab to deal with itatrikes as how you'd not laugh so much answered Molly, touched with thij remark of her neighbour in spite of the accompanying laugh. Ah begorra, but Oi wouldn't thrust yez wid tbe care av a sick dog wid a muzzle on it for fe^r ye'd git out av patience au' bate the poor baste," said tho Irishwoman, who felt in a tRiitahzing mood. Oh wouldn't yer ? sullenly. Divil a bit would Oi, for it's inoiglity little m trey ye'd have on the animal. But, say—is it to the funeral yez gooan ? I don't know," said Mollie, with A little more I don't know," said Mollie, with A little more friendliness in her voice now that the subject was changed. Maybe I am, an' maybe I ain't. Wv. are you goin' V Av course gooan Yez dooant think gooan to miss a bit av daoent excitement whin Oi can get it, do yez ? Be jabbers loife's dull enough at the bist av toimes. Och miss a funeral ? Not me, begorra." And Clay rubbed with redoubled vigour at the coarse shirt she was engaged in washing. Wy, there'll not be much fer themselves, let alone anyone else," said Motile, gloomily. "Faith it's a foine wet blanket ye'd make jest now, Mollie, The very look of yez is enough to put a iore out." ïJ' I should like ter put this useless brat out," answered the termagant as she turned to address an abusive remark to Agnes. Where 1 Out in the Cemethary ?" enquired Clay, with a knowing leer at her neighbour, who, alio knew very well, would ba glad to see the girl gone over to the majority, but for one thing—the probabilitvof her being of use. Aye or anyw'ere else out of my sight," replied Mollie. Ah ? let the choild alone, Mollie. Shure, ye make tier tin tunes worse than she would be. But fvvhat's that ye said ? There won't be any- thing for thimselves ? Be the powers av soap, an' tuat's a slippery oath "—and the soap slid from her hand to the round-" come here, ye I shiidden' gossoon, come here "—liifikmg a grab at the article. Siiure, more difficult to hould than a fiekle colleen. Fwhat's that ye said, there'll be nothen' for thimselves ? Divil a bit av it, woman Haven't ye haerd the news, at aall, at aali wot news ?" inquired Mollie, pricking up her ears. Be me sowl, but a body 'ud think ye'd bin ta some foreign couuthry ba ye're ignorance. Dooant yez know that the gurl was inshured for fifteen gouiden sovereigns ? "WIlD told yer that ? asked Mollie, now fully alive to the importance of her being one of the funeral party, and craning her neck forward to catch Clay's reply. "Faith, 'twas the gurl's own mother as towld me an' the man's gooan to bring the money this afternoon." Oh then I s'pose be worth w'ile ter go." With an expectant and satisfied look in her bleared eyes at the thought of the feasting and drinking she would be enabled to indulge in. Piase the pigs, but Oi'm agooau, Mollie, me darlint." And wIth a laugh at her own irony, Clay arose from her seat and vanished within the portals of her house, an action which Mollie followed, and expended a little more of her ill- humour on Agnes, who had now been home a fortnight since her forced detention in trie old cottage in the garden. Where the-girl had spent the time Mollie cared nothing, and her questions on the matter were about equal to her concern in it, hence the whole three days' absence and the calle ot it—was quietly allowed to drop into the maw of oblivion, as it would not have done had the girl been possessed ot more humane parents. nd as to her father, when returned liom"-r,t the end of the week, he was too much engaged in carousing at the New Inn to think of the welfare of his daughter. Moreover, Agnes had often, when driven out by Mollie's tyranny, remained away for twenty four hours; so that her prolonged absence caused but httle surprise or comment, either in her own home or m the court generally. The foregone conversation between Mollie and Clay Maguire took place in the forenoon, and toward two o'clock in the afternoon the court began to assume an unusual appearance of activity and better garments. Quiet faces were seen passings to and fro, and occa- sionally a sad one and a bent head. Conversations were carried on in whispers or subdued tones, and even Mollie's harsh notes were softened down out of respect for the dead. Another unusual thmg was that every doorstep bore the signs of a recent wash clean window-blinds-where obtainable— had been hung to greet the eyes of chance strangers to the court and show respect to the bereaved. In short, the windows, window-blinds, doorsteps, and inhabitants of the place all bore an air of cleanliness and quietness much out of their common groove. Three days ago death had visited the court and borne away a young woman of about the age of Agn.s, the daughter of a labourer who lived next door to Clay Maguire, a quiet and inoffensive girl who had sickened and died in the foul atmosphere so loved by her hardened parents. At two o'clock the procession was to start for the Cemetery, and for some time previous to that hour those of the neighbours who were most in touch with the mother of the dead girl had kept the woman company. At about a quarter to 2 the undertaker's man arrived to screw down the coffin lid, and most of those present accompanied him into the room where lay in its homely casket, the now tenantless house of clny. Fwhat a lovely corpse she makes, ta be sure," murmured the irrepressible Irishwoman, gazing in hushed ecstacy at the beautiful, saintly white face, with its closed eyelids, lying motion- less on its last pillow, "Begorra, but it's a swate thing ta doie young, if ownly ta look lovely," whispered Clay to the nearest neighbour as they gathered around the cotfin. Ye3," answered the woman in a hushed tone, and gazing absently at the dead. an' its a good thing for 'er, poor thing, 'at she's gone. She waa too good fer this world, she was." Sure, et's thrue yez are: for the choild brought her pigs to a bad market when she came into this worruld. Begob it's an avil place for sich dilicate bits av humanity," answered Clay, still in a whisper. Indeed to goodness, there's a ejaculated Davy ill a hushed voice, as he stole in and crept up behind the women stretching his head forward to get a better view of the coffin and its occupant. The Lord hath given an' the Lord hath taken away." "Hould ypz canten' thongue, ye, ye whoitewashed haethen an' be thruthful 10 the prisince ov the dead," whispered Clay in disgust. I wass a pittee, to be sure, but the Lord shall gath&r His Lambs to His breast." replied Davey. Hould yez thongue, will yez ? An' 'ave some pity for the pure (poor) snfferin' mother. Shure, the divil can ooite Scripture for his parpua." Ah she's an excellent ooman, Misus Maguire, but the Lord knows best. May His 'arvest be plentiful." At this juncture the man lifted tho coffin lid and placed it over the still form, and Clay, hurrying forward, exclaimed in a constrained whlsper- Hould on a minute Let me kiss tbe beauti- ful face afore yez cover it up. Shure, et isn't every day wan gits a chance ta kiss an angel," And stooping over the edge of the ooffin she lightly and reverently pressed her coarse lips to the brow of the dead girl and then to each cheek, an action which was followed by everyone present, including the hypocritical Davy and the hard, coarse Mollie. Then the lid was screwed down, the coffin was lifted and borne out into the court, where it was placed on three chair3 the mourners and those accompanying them prepared to take up their places in the procession, the bearers lined up, the coffin was again rnised and borne out through the passage—under the public-house where had been spent the money which might have kept the girl alive-into the open street, with its burden of freed humanity carried away from contamination, from pollution to purity. (To be continued.)
THE REVELATIONS AT THE LLANDILO…
THE REVELATIONS AT THE LLANDILO WORKHOUSE. Referring to the remarks made by Mr Bircham about the quality of the tea, etc., at the last meeting of the board, Major Thomas on Saturday said the tea had been diluted to satisfy the inmates, who wanted more than their allowance. He denied that the pannikins for broth, etc., were also used for partaking tea out of. Then he bad tasted the tea. and it was as good as could be got in any country; in fact, he denied almost every statement made by Mr Bircham, Mr Joseph Hames said their workhouse was the best in South Wales. The Chairman (Mr Henry Herbert) could not understand how. if things were as Mr Bircham had stated, he had not discovered them before. Mr J. Rees moved that the dietary tables should be sent to the Local Government Board, and that they be asked which of the two wore to be adopted. Mr W. Jones, Glancennen, deprecated attacking Mr Bircham in that way. They knew all those things when he was there, and why not speak out then ? Mr W. Griffiths said there had been no time for explana- tions at the last meeting. Col. Gwynne-Hughes held with Mr W. Jones that that was not the time to refutf what Mr Bircham had said, and moved that Major Thomas's remarks should be sent to Mr Bircham. This was agreed to.
FUNERAL OF MRS WARE.
FUNERAL OF MRS WARE. The funeral of the late Mrs Margaret Broadish Ware took place on Saturday afternoon, leaving the residence, Briar Bank, Penarth, for Penarth Church at 3 o'clock. The coffin, Which consisted of a shell with an outer case of- panelled English oak, was conveyed to the church in an open V:ctoril1. car, foJIowed by three mourning coaches, c ontaining the relatives and a few friends. The Rev. Sweet-Escott, rector of Penarth, officiated. Wreaths were sent by Misses Walker, sisters Mr and Mrs Alec Ware, Mr and Mrs Bowring, The Heath, Penarth Mrs Fisher, Radyr Mr and Mrs H. O. Fisher, Radyr Dr. Nell, Mr and Mrs Vyvyan Robinson, Velindra, Cardiff; Mr and Mrs Robt-rt Thomas, London Mr Ogden, Newport Misses Parsley, Worte Mr and Mra J. G. Thomas, The Rectory, Llandough Mr and Mrs D. T. Alexander, Dinas Powis; Mrs Thomas Evans, Cardiff; Mr and Mrs Ivor Vachell, Cardiff; Mr and Mrs Lorange, Llan- dough; Mr and Mrs Gottvvaltz, Penarth Mrs Baaelny, Penaith Mr and Mrs Fred Greenhili, Penarth Mr and Mrs E. Bowring, Huntspill "ud Master Bowring, The Heath Mr and lrs D. R. Williams, Roath the servants at Briar Bank, &c., &c. The funeral arrangements were entrusted to Messrs Stone Bros., 5, Working- street, Cardiff.
CHURCH PARADE AT CABMARTHEN.
CHURCH PARADE AT CABMARTHEN. The Carmarthen Volunteers mustered well for church parade at 10.30 o'clock on Sunday morn- ing, under the oommand of Lieutenant Owen Norton. The recruits of the Carmarthenshire Artillery Militia, with their adjutant, Captain Turner, R.A., having marched past Red-street to the inspiriting strains of their excellent bond, the Volunteers followed them up Guildhall-square, being preceded by the smartly-equipped Cyole Corps and their band. Both Reserve forces attended Divine service at St. Peter's Parish Church.
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---------------THE MYSTERY…
THE MYSTERY OF TURKENTYNE. BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE. Author of "Sebastin Strome," "Fortune's Fool," &c. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] Mason, Jordan. and I bad been lunching together at the club, and were smoking peaceably in a corner of the smoking-room, when Dr. Dwight came in with a copy of the "Evening Instigator" in his hand. His face was serious, I and bore traces of excitement; and his bearing was pregnant of news. He walked up to us, nodded, and sat down, holding the paper across I his knee. Sinoko ?" said Jordan, languidly drawing a cigar from his waistcoat-pocket. "A nip of brandy, if you:JI touch the bell," replied Dwight. Have you heard about Turken- tyne ? It's in the paper, I see, though it was only eleven when it happened. I was with him." "Has he been getting druuk again on lemonade ahd «e!tzer V' interjected Mason. "It's a funny thing, by the way have you noticed it ? It's been going on for the last three or four weeks. Little Turkie always had the best will in the world Lo get off on sprees with the boys, but fate, in the shape of an impracticable stomach, made liquor of any sert an impossibility for him. He actually can't touch so mush as a glass of olarot without undergoing diastrons reverses in his epigastric region. I've seen him following a knot of the fellows about, watching them toss off their cock-tails and straights with eyes green with envy, but never daring to chip in himself. The jollier they got, the more down-in-the-mouth would he grow and he once confided to me that he would give half his fortune for the digestion and constitution of a man like Greenwood, for example—who, for his part, can drink all day if he can only get somebody to pay the shot." I guess Greenwood must have found his pay- master, then," remarked I for I have noticed the past month or so that he has been hilarious every evening and I've seen him ordering fiz7.- and paying for it, too-as if it was water." What I was going to say," resumed Mason, Turkentyne has been strangely festive of late, for no substantial reason that I could ever discover. I've never seen him put anything stronger than lemon-juice into his glass, and yet he's been whooping it up as if he were loaded with the best stuff in the cellar." "He gets inebriated throug'n sympathy," said Jordan. "I've heard of such a thing. He's probably of a peculiarly sensitive and sympathetic nature." "Sympathetic as a fish!" retorted Mason, scornfuliv. "A fellow who's made his money working wheat corners, as Turkie has, isn't going to suffer from the pangs of an impressionable imagination. No, sir there's a mystery there, and I'd like to hear an explanation of it. The man gets roaring drunk on nothing at all, that's the long and short of it; and yet I'll wager he hasn't swallowed a pint of liquor in three years. I know what I'm talking about." Maybe he's a haschisch or chloral fiend," I suggested. "I am able to answer for him as to that," put in Dwight, who has been sileritily sipping his brandy all this while. I'm his physician and I'm in a position to affirm that he has never touched drugs of any kind. He had a peculiar organisation, and could stand no sort of stimulant—not even tobacco." There," exclaimed Mason, triumphantly "and is it not, nevertheless, true. Doctor, that he has been exhibiting all the symptoms of the practised rounder ?" All but one, I admit," replied Dwight. And what's that ?" Why, that every night, at about two o'clock a.m., he has suddenly become as sober as a judge, and gone to bed with a bead as clear as crystal. And when he got up in the morning, there wasn't the faintest symptom of feverishness or dis- comfiture of any description. That, of course, is proof positive of his actual abstinence." By Jove!" drawled Jordan, if the fellow has discovered a means of enjoying all the delights of the rounder, without Buffering any of the penalties, I sli, uld like to sit at his feet and im- bibe his wisdom. What do you make of it, Doc ? I must inform you, gentlemen," said Dwight., gravely, since you evidently haven't heard it, that our poor friend is dead. Yes, he died this morning, in my prescence, at five minutes before 11 o'clock." We all uttered exclamations. After all, we had liked poor little Turkie. He had been a vain, shallow, voluble, absurd creature; but he had possessed some warm human qualities. He bad been fond of us he had fulfilled his conception of friendship towards us; he had been generous with the only quality of attraction he had-his money he had longed to make us like him, and admit him to the charmed circle of our good-fellowship. The charmed circle in question was, verily, a paltry enough object of ambition but, such as it was, Turkie had craved it, and his mortification over the constitutional weakness which had dis- abled him from partaking of what our civilisation chooses to regard as the emblem of good fellow- ship, had been so comically sincere and acute as He acted as one mad. I to have attracted our amused attention. The spectacle of the strutting, crowing little man mourning because he could not share our excesses, was enough to upset the gravity of an Egyptian idol. And then the phantasmal fashion in which, during the last few weeks, he had contrived to accomplish the appearance of carousal, without employing the concrete means to that end-had rioted in wassail, without absorbing so much as a drop of the grape—was just such a grotesque kind of miracle as seemed to suit his character. But that Turkie should, thus suddenly and without warning, wrap him. self about with the majesty of death was a fact quite out of keeping with the humble measure of his personality. There is dignity in death; but who could associate dignity with the thought of Turkentyne? The atmosphere of social dram-drinking had suited:him well enough but the chill majesty of the last great change- could that really have fallen upon Turkentyne? What did he die of? How did it happen?" I ask-d, after a pause. What the cause of death actually was I am unable even to conjecture," Dwight replied. But every symptom pointed to heart-failure, superinduced by acute alcoholism. In fact, it was preceded by as startling a fit of the horrors as ever I witnessed." Why, then, he has been drinking after all," said Jordan. He must have done bis loading. up in secret. Though I don't see what his object could have been in that either. But if imagina- tion, or sympathy, can make a man drunk, it's too much to believe that it can give him the D.T. and'kill him." "I am certain, at all events, that he has touched nothing stronger than soda-water during the last four and twenty hours," remarked Dwight. "He has not been out ot my sight during the whole of that time. We lunched together yesterday; he went down to Long Branch with me in the after. noon, where I was called on professional business we came back to town on the six o'clock train, and he dined and spent the night at Illy house. And it was there he died." How did it come on him ? asked Mason. "When he came to lunch, he was as quiet and cool as I aiii now—or more so. I may mention, by the way, that his heart has always been as sound as a dollar. He drank a weak cap of black tea with his lunch, and at half-past one we took the train. We hadn't been aboard tva minutes when he began to show signs of liquor. His face flushed a little, and he talked volubly and foolishly. I should have said (if I hadn't known to the contrary) that he had just swallowed a stiff horn of brandy. To make a long story short, he grew more and more noisy and boisterous all the afternoon. By the time we got back to New York he was drunk—there's no other word for it. His eyes were wavering, his speech was thick, and he was unsteady in his gait. He froposed all sorts of things, as drunken men do; I had some trouble getting him to my house. There he became so bad as to make me uneasy, though I knew all the time that there was abso- lutely no cause for his condition. At midnight he suddenly jumped out of his chair, his skin cold and clammy, his eYPB staring, his body trembling -well, if you've ever seen a man with the mania-a-potu you know how he appeared. I apphed the same treatment as if he really had the disease. But he grew rapidly worse it was a terrible night. I had to call assistance at last, and put him in a strait-jacket, to prevent his doing himself or someone else an injury. At tea o'clock this morning he grew very weak we removed the jaoket, and got him into bed. He lay there muttering to himself and occasionally shivering, for half an hour or more. Then he suddenly sat up, reached out with his arm, gave a gasp or two, and fell baok dead. That's all there is to tell, gentlemen bat what it means I can't pretend to guess." „ During the silenoe which followed the doctor's narrative, Jerry Wallace, the dramatic oritic, a elever man, but rather prone to dissipation, entered the room. He looked pale and dis- hevelled, and he shuddered nervously as he dropped into a chair and ordered a glass of absinthe. Poor Tom Greenwood is gone, boys," he said, in a husky voice. Pegged out this morning, a few iniuutes before eleven. I was with him all night. It's been a siege. I can tell you. I'm as limp as a rag. Poor old Torn Tom Greenwood dead, too ? What ailed him T" demanded Mason. Snakes I" replied Jerry, briefly, and shuddered again. How lonlt was he ill f lnqtxiredDirigbfc He'd been drinking ever since before two o'olock yesterday started in with champagne, and by six o'clock was working the brandy, bottle. I kept with him, though I couldn't keep up with hun-he was drinking two to my one. We made the rounds; but a little before midnight I managed to get him home to his rooms. He went right to the cupboard, pulled out a quart bottle of brandy, and took a drain at it. The next thing I knew he'd got em and he had bad, I can tell you I tackled him the best I could, and tried to quiet him down but he wore me out after a while, and I had to call up the folks andf send out for a doctor. We tried everything, kut it was no use. At ten this morning it was plain he hadn't much further to go. He lay on the bed quivering and mumbling and along towards eleven he raised up and cried out, Loot out for Ned Turkentyne By I forgot him Those WHre the last words be saId. 1:n live minutes he was dead. The doctor called it hc|trtfailure," What an extraordinary coincidence mur- mured I to Dwight, who was sitting near me. From start to finish it's Turken tone's case over again. But what could he have meant by that last remark of his ?" Dwight seemed muoh agitated. It recalls to my mind something I had forgotten," he said, in a low voice. "Several times during his last hours Turkentyne cried out, Tom has forgotten — Greenwood has forgotten 1' I had no idea what he meant, and took it for part of his ravings. But now it seems to look as if there were something behind it. Do you know of anything in the nature of a compact or understanding between the two men ?" I shook my head. "They wice on friendly terms, and that sort of hing, I remember Turkentyne enjoying Tom's powtr of disposing of liquor, and once he said, jokingly, that he would be willing to pay him a,good salary to acquire his faculty. That was the night we three went together to Professor Blade's seance." "Blade, the spiritualist, you me&n ?" Spiritualist, or magnetiser, or conjuror— whatever you choose. It was thij usual show but Turkie had never seen anythisg of the kind before, and was a good deal interested, especially with the hypnotic experiments. The Professor took a swallow of port wine, and the subject smacked his lips you know the kind of hum- bug." "And afterwards he said that to Greenwood, did he ?" Yes, as we were walking lome together, Greenwood, I believe, was something of a hypnotiser himself. I recollect his answering that maybe he could earn that saUry after all, or words to that effect. But it's of no consequence." Was that all that either of tiiem said about i' ?" That's more than I can tell you. I left them on the next corner, and they went off together." How long ago was that?" enquired Dwight, after a pause. A month ago, or more, I should think." Ah and it's about a month ago that Turken. tyne began to go on his barmecide spreee and since Tom obtained the means to pay for cham- pagne and brandy." Why, what have you got in pour head now ?" And there's another point that I didn't mention before," continued DWIht, not noticing my interjection. The othei day, when I was at Turkentyne's rooms, and we were talking together, I picked up a cheque. book of his that was lying ot the table, and unconsciously, as it were, began^to read off the stubs. There were four or five of them with Greenwood's name, and for a ihundred dollars each. The date of the ffrst was about a month back. When I realised what I was doing I put the book down." I must confess, Doctor, I don't quite see what you're driving at." I don't quite see myself. But here is a. series of facts. First, Turkentyne expresses a willing- ness to p iy Greenwood a salary if he can acquire his power of holding liquor. Secondly, from that time on, Greenwood comes into some money, which he spends on liquor, ar,d Turkentyne begins his barmecids dissipation*. Next, from tha.t time on, Turkentyne pays money to Green- wood, at tbe rate of about a hundred dollars a week. Once more, Turkentyne and Greenwood die at the same moment of time, and exhibiting similar symptoms both speak of something having been forgotten, Add to these the fact that you instruct a transference of tensation at the Professor's seance, and all the evidence at present at our disposal is in." Well, it's queer, certainly but what does it prove ?" You are as well able as I to form an opinion," replied the doctor, evasively. 4, More things are possible in this world than some are apt to im- agine. You say Greenwood wasan hynotiser. I should say that Turkentyne n&ald be a good hypnotic subject. But we shad probably never know anything more about the matter than we know now. Meanwhile, I have an appointment to keep. By the way, an autopsy will be held on Turkentyne to-morrow, at whch I shall attend. Would you like to come ? I an anxious to hear what the verdict will be. I consented to be present, and with that nnder- standing we parted. The scene of the autopsy was dreary and de- pressing. A small bare room: half a. dozen indifferent men a policeman at the door; and in front of the wndow a table, on which was extended a figure lathed in a white cloth. This dotb wrs pre- sently unwrapped, exposing to our view the body of poor little Turkie. face looked natural, and I should have supposed, under other circumstances, that the man was merely asleep. The body was well nourish' ana the skin remarkably white and clear. After some general conversation among the pre. fessional gentlemen present, in the course of which the peculiar circumstances attending the death were discussed, it was decided to examine the heart of the deceaseJ, and Dr. Dwight was requested to perform the operation. He approached the table, took a case of instruments out of his pocket and opened it. I saw him select something bright and sharp, and bend over the body and then I became suddenly convinced that I did not care to assist at an autopsy, and started to leave the room. I was feeling acutely uncomfortable, and I daresay I looked so, for I noticed that one of the attendants glanced at me with a significant grin. I had my hand on the door-knob, and was just turning it when a quick exclamation from behind arrested me. It was followed by a confused chorus of voioes, and a general gathering together of everyone present round the table. I turned, but could see nothing but the backs of the oom- pany, as they bent eagerly over the body. What had happened! Had poor Turkie's interior revealed some unexpected monstrosity ? As I stood hesitating whether to go or stay the babel of voices suddenly became hushed, and out of the silence emerged a thin, falsetto groan, like the last remonstrance of an exhausted bagpipe followed by tbeae words, pronounced in a tone of feeble but indignant complaint: "Take that razor away, doctor What the deuce have you done with my clothes ?" Such were the words; and the voice was the unmistakable voice of Turkentyne. He was not dead after all. I have no distiuct recollection of the course of events after until, an hour or two later, Dwight, Turkentyne, and I were together in Turkentyne's rooms, with a luuch before us. For a man who had so lately returned from the other world, Turkentyne was looking pretty well but he had a bad scare, and his own voice vibrated and broke occasionally, as he propounded to us, in interrupted sentences, the surprising story of his expeiienoes during the memorable month just passed. The doctor listened complacently, for as the tale unfolded itself, it substantially confirmed the diagnosis at which he had darkly hinted in his talk with me at the club. It was that fellow Blake that suggested it," said Turken tyue. That is, he gave me the idea, and Torr and I afterwards work it outjietweeii us. The principle of the thing is, that when a fellow is hypnotised, he can be made to feel all that the fellow who hypnotised him feels, and act just like him, though there's nothing real in it. you understand-only he believes there is. We! JIS soon as we settled on the principle, we set to work to experiment. In the first place, Tom hypnotised me it was a little difficult at first, but after a while we got the hang of it, and he could send me off with a wave of his hand. Then we got down to business. I got a couple of quarts of champagne, and he and I shut ourselves up in my room, and he hypnotised me—omy very lightly, you know, so that nobody would have known that! wasn't in my normal state; and then he drank the wine. Before he had finished the first bottle I was just feeling as jolly as a grig, and by the time they were both gone I was just about right. Well, that experiment settled the question whether the thing could be done; and then wo made our bargain. I was to pay Tom so much a week, and he was to use the money in drinking all the wine and liquor he wanted. He was to begin at a certain hour eaoh day, and not get too. full until after dinner; and it was stipulated that he was not to dead drunk at all, unless by speoial arrangement with me. We started in on that basis; but the morning after his first spree I woke up feeling like the deuce, for the hypnotic current hadn't been switched off, so to speak, and, of course, I was undergoing the same after effects that he was. I went over and had a conference with him, and we fixed it up easily. When he hypnotised me after that, he gave me an order to wake up from tho trance at a certain hour, say about at one or two o'clock in the morning, so that I should come out the next day without a coated tongue or a head- ache. As I was putting up the money for the job, yon see, it was no more than fair that he should have all the bad hours to himself. Fron. that timo on we got famously. The only awlt. ward port) of is was that sometimes the fellows wondered how I managed to get tight without drinking anything; but that dId t amount to much, and I was generally able to bluff them by pretending that cider was champagne, and water gin, and ginger alo whiskey or brandy and as a general rule, they didn't notice what I was drink- ing at all. Of course, I had to depend on Tom to keep his end up, and not overdo it; and be did first-rate until the last-poor old fellow!" By the way, how do you Account for the catastrophe ?" I asked. Well, there's only one explanation of that. You see, we had got the hypnotising business down so fine that Tom could send tne off just by an act of will, without the neceasitv of our b*ing actually together at all. All he had to do was to say, at a certain hour, Go to sleep, Turkie, and don't wake up till such and such an hour.' Then, wherever I was, off I'd go. But as luck would have it, he must have forgotten day before yes- terday to mention the waking-up hour, and aft. r- wards, when he got the horrors, of course he was too busy with that to remember anything. So I had to go in fur the whole thing. I suspected what was the matter, but I couldn't wakfe myself up. And when he died, I suppose I died too, thoagh if I did, I don't see how I managed to come alive again. By George, it's lucky I did come alive before it was too late^or I might have been buried, He broke off, and became verypstlei. It was thd autopsy that brought you to," said Dwight. The first incision that I made started up your circulation, and woke you out of your trance. But the case raises some interesting I questions as to the possible extent of hypnotic power. Possibly, 11 yon had had a weak heart you might have died in good earnest. I only wish poor Tom could be as easily resuscitated as you were." He shall have a bang-up funeral, any way," said Turkentyne, with a sigh, "and I'll foot the bill. And this thing has taught me a lesson, fellows, that I shall never forget. The moral of my story is—avoid the appearance of evil I used to write in my copy books when I was a kid, and I remember it now. Drinking is a bad thing, and getting drunk on hypnotism is every bit as bad as on whiskey. I'm done with it. I ve been a fool, and worse than a fool, for if I had content to keep within bounds of my own stomach, as it were, maybe poor Tone Greenwood would have been alive to-day This was an edifying conclusion, and I have reason to believe that Turkie has, ever since that episode, remained as blameless in appearance as he already was in fact. [THE END]. NEXT WERK— A QUEER CONSULTATION, By L. r. MKADE.
LOCAL LAW.
LOCAL LAW. A Cardiff Licensing Case, Cenviction fet' Perjury Affirmed. In the Queen's Bench Division of the High Court of Justice, on Saturday, the oaae of the Qneen v. Henry Baker came before a Court for the consideration of Crown cases reserved, con- sisting of the Lord Chief Justice, and Justices Ha.wkms, Cave, Grantham, and Lawrance. It was a case tried at the Glamorganshire Assizes in February last, before Mr Chalmers, couuty-court judge of Birmingham, who was appointed Commissioner of Assize of the South Wales Circuit. The defendant (Baker) was charged with wilful and corrupt perjury, was found guilty, and sentenced to three months' hard labour, but the execution of the sentence was stayed pending the decision on a point of law reserved for the opinion of this court. It appeared from the case stated by. the learned judge that the substance of the indictment was that on thelSth December, 1894, at the Petty Sessions held at Cardiff, before the stipendiary magistrate, Baker was charged with the offence of selling beei without a licence, and having been duly sworn, deposed that he had never authorised the plea of guilty to be put in to a previous charge of selling beer without a licence, contrary to Section 5 of the Licensing Act, 1872, and that he had not authorised his solicitor, Thomas Henry Belcher, to put in the plea of guilty even by an indirect authority, and that he had no knowledge that his solicitor was going to plead guilty on his behalf, and that it was against his wish that the said plea of guilty was put in. It was proved before the judge at the assizes that at the hearing before the stipendiary magistrate Baker swore that he had been pre- viously convicted of selling beer without a licence on the 6t'» November, 1894, and that the convic- tion was in respeot of the same premises, and that he had never authorised the plea of guilty to be put in. He said that on the 6th November he met his solicitor (Mr Belcher) outside the court. His solicitor told him the case would not come on for an hour. His solicitor promised to send for him when wanted, and he then took his witnesses to the Black Lion Hotel, where he had not been ten minutes when a man named Jacobs came in and said tbe case was over, and that Belcher, the solicitor, had pleaded guilty. Baker said he was surprised and indignant when he heard of what had occurred, as he bad not given Belcher any authority, directly or indirectly, to plead guilty, and Belcher never told him that he would not go into court unless a plea of guilty was put in, Evidence, however, was called on the part of the Crown to show that Baker, after full explanation, had authorised Belcher to plead guilty on his behalf, and that when mformed of what had been done he expressed himself as being perfectly satisfied with the result. At she conclusion of the hearing Mr Arthur Lewis, on behalf of Baker, took the objection that, even if the statements made by Baker were knowingly false, they could not amount to perjury because they were not material to the issues then pending before the magistrate, Baker having admitted his previous conviction, and had not appealed therefrom, and that a previous convic- tion only affected the amount of punishment. The v udge, however, held that Baker having tendered himself as a witness, was properly examined concerning the circumstances of his previous conviction, and that his answers were materia], but he consented to state a case on the point raised by Mr Lewis. Mr C. J. Jackson, on behalf of the Town Clerk of Cardiff, appeared in support of the conviction. Baker was not represented. Their Lordships consulted together for a short time, and without calling upon Mr Jackson decided that the learned judge was right, and affirmed the conviction.
SHARPNESS AND GLOUCESTERI…
SHARPNESS AND GLOUCESTER DOCK COMPANY. To cope with the greatly increased trade at their Sharpness Dock, the directors of the above company have decided to extend the quay accommodation there, and at the same timo to deepen the dock. Plans for this purpose have been prepared by their engineers and tenders m. vited, and these will be in the directors' hands next week. As is generally known, the largo floating dock at Sharpness, opened in 1874, has a quay wall on the south-east side extending to a length of over 2,000ft., the opposite side having a sloping bank only, and here vessels cannot get close along- side to discharge their cargoes, though timber can be dealt with without difficulty. The proposed contract includes the construction of a quky from the graving dock to the coal tip, a length of over 600ft., and the dock in front will be increased by the setting back of the wall inside the present bank, nearly 100ft. in width. The quay thus commenced can be extended without difficulty, as may be found desirable or necessary. The wall will be constructed of lime concrete, faced with blue brick immediately below and above the water line, with a cement coping, somewhat similar to the walls of the Monk Meadow Dock at Glouces- ter. The total height of the wall, from toe to coping, will be 31ft,, the width at bottom 13ft., and at top 6ft., the coping being 3ft. 6in. wide. The extension of the south pier at the entrance, deoided on last autumn, will be carried out at the same time.
CARDIFF DISTRICT TEACHERS'…
CARDIFF DISTRICT TEACHERS' ASSOCIATION, The usual bi-monthly meeting was held at Severn-road Board Sohool on Saturday last. Mr J. V. Evans, Higher Grade School, presided. After the usual routine business, a discussion took place on the agenda prepared for the annual conference of the N.U.T., which takes place at Manchester during Easter week. The association representatives were instructed as to their voting at Conference. Mr W. Brookington, B.A., gave an interesting address on Tho Teacher as a Civil Servant He argued that as the State regulated, examined, and controlled the teachers, so it should bear the responsibility of seeing that they were fairly treated, especially as regards their salaries. An animated discussion followed, and ultimately the following resolution was carried unanimously: —" That in the interests of education it is desirable that means be immediately t iken by the Education Department to ensure the adequate staffing of schools by making the payment of the salaries of the teachers a direct charge upon the Imperial revenue." Mr E. C. Willmott next announced that the result of the late united schools' concerts would be a handsome donation of B150 to the N.U.T. obarities. The meeting was followed by a. tea provided by the ladies' committee, and concluded with a concert and dance.
NEWPORT OVERSEER IN DEFAULT.
NEWPORT OVERSEER IN DEFAULT. Mr James Waters, butcher, Maindee, and lately assistant overseer for the parish of Nash, was summoned at Newport County Police Court on Saturday for neglecting to pay JESS 139 3d to tho treasurer of tho Newport Union. The pro- 1 cecdings were instituted by Mr A. W. Dolby, district auditor for Herdordshiro flnd Monmouth- shire, and Mr Horace Lyne, solicitor, appeared to support the summons. Mr Thompson, the auditor's clerk, produced the books relating to the parish of Nash, which showed that on the andit held on the 6th March last there was a balance of £3,1; 139 8d due from the defendant. A certificate was handed in from the treasurer te the Union showing that the money had not been paid in on the 30th March. Defendant was present at the audit, and was told he must pay the money. When the summons was served by P.O. McEvoy defendant told the officer that he would try to come, but did not think be would be able to leava his shop on Saturday. The defendant did not appear, and a distress warrant, with costs, was ordered by the Bench to be issued on defendant's goods.
!IN COURT IN A SACK.
IN COURT IN A SACK. John Robinson, a fireman, and a native of Wet Hartlepool, appeared in the dock at the Roose Petty Sessions held at Haverfordwest on Saturday, with his nether limbs enveloped m a sack. It transpired in the course of the evidence that the prisoner was locked up the night before for being drunk and disorderly. After being placed in the cells, in a paroxysm of rage he tore his trousers to shreds, whioh accounted for the unique and comical attire he was then wearing.— The Prisoner said tbe constable tore his clothes when bringing him to the Police Station, but the officer in charge when the man was brought in denied this, and. said that when locked up the prisoner's trousers was not torn.—Tbe Bouch committed the prisoner to prison for 14 dnys with hard labour.
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[No title]
How can a bride be expected to show self- possession when she is given away ? A hen on a farm does nut mingle in promiscuou8 society; she has her own exclusive set. Marriage promotes longevity, notwithstanding its tendency to produce premature baldness. A married couple who are drnnk never quarrel. At least they never have any words together. What is that a gentleman has not, never can have, and yet can give to a lady?—A husband. De Vere I hear Miss Dashly does very good work with her pencil.—Gladys Yes, her eye- brows are a work of art. HER NOSE.—She Isn't her nose quite retrousse ?—He I don't know. It's so turned up that you can't teil just what it iil. Tom, whom did you say our friend Brown married?" Well, he married forty thousand pounds. I forget her other name." A boy in a Sunday school, when asked the question, What is the chief end of man ?" said, The chief end is the end with the head on." How is your sister getting on with her sing- ing lessons 1" If Well, papa has taken the wadding out of his ears for the first time to-day." Blobbs Do you think the average man is as stupid before he marries as he is afterwards ?— Cynicus Certainly, or he wouldn't get married, She You say that my consenting to marry you has made you very happy.—He Yes. You see what a simple thing it takes to make me happy. Bessie: The idea of yonr saying that you are only twenty-one.—Gussie: You forget mamma told us that it is always better to underrate than- to exaggerate. Teacher (to scholar): What are you laughing ftt ? Not at me ?—Scholar Oh, no, sir.— Teacher Then what else is there in the room to laugh at ? Mrs Jones There goes Mr Gray. He's an octogenarian.—Mrs Robinson Are you sure of that ? I have always understooddie was a Uni- tarian. MAKING PFIEPARATIONS.— I understand that Freddy ia getting ready to be married." What is he doing?" "Taking lessons at the cooking- schooJ." Somebody writes to inquire why tapping the face of the barometer makes the hands move ? If anybody were to tap on his face, wouldn't his hands move ? In a tcte ii ttle a woman speaks in a loud tone to the man she is Indifferent to, in a low tone to the one she begins to love, and keeps silent with the one she loves. Bronson Have the detectives found out any- thing about the burglary yet ?—Johnson Yes they've come to the conclusion that the motive for the crime was money. Mrs Murphy Yes, sonny, I've had a fruit stand on this block fer thirty years.—Tim Ryan If you'd have advertised you might have owned the block by this time. LOOKS THAT WAT.—Quericus Do most girls keep Lent?—Cynicus: Well, to judge from the number of manlage at Easter, the only thing they seem to keep is company. You don't seem to think this story very funny," complained Smalhvort, after he had finished. "011, yes, I do," answered Ford, "go ahead and tell some more of it." Wiggins My boy, if you live beyond your Income you are bound to^come to grief.—Spenditt: My dear fellow, if I had to live withm it 1 would be miserable even now Which is my part in this duet ? asked the prima donna of her husband, who was the tenor. Your part ? Here it is of course. The one with the last words in it," Barber But you have paid me twopence too muoh.—Victim That's all right it's a tip for not asking me if I wanted a shampoo, and not trying to sell me a bottle of your never-failing hair restorer. Little EÐheI went to the church with her grandmother and for the first time put sixpence on tbe contribution plate. Leaning over, she whispered audibly, "That's all right, grandma I paid for two." Friend of the Family; I am afraid you little fellows don't always agree. You fight each other sometimes, don't you?—Twins; Yeth, sir, thuui- timth.—"I thought so. Well, who whips?" Mamma wiptb." A SARCASTIC WOMAN.—Charlie Knickerbocker: I tell you, our club room is going to be fixed up fine. It is going to have ail the home comforts.— Mrs Knickerbocker (with a sneer); And when is our home to have all the club comforts ? Teacher John, of what are your shoes made ? —Boy Leather, sir.—Teacher Where does leather come from ?—Boy From the hide of the ox.—Teacher: What animal, then, supplies you with shoes and gives you meat to eat ?—Boy My father. Mamma (to Flossie, who had been lunohing with a. little friend) I hope you were very polite, Flossie, at the table, and saId" Yes, please," and No, thank you ?"—Flossie Well, I didn't say "No, thank you," because, you see, I took everything. A boy was asked what was the greater evil, hurting another's feelings or his finger. "The feelings," he said. Right, my dear child." said the gratified questioner. But why is it worse to hurt the feelings ? Because you oan't tie a rag round them. He You're all alike, vanity madam, you're nothing but vanity—why, you never saw a man powder and paint ?—She No but I've seen a man of sixty carefully comb his two or three hairs over the bald patch and try to pass off for thirty. (He never forgave her.) WHERE FORTUNE LIBS.—" Oh, papa, who is that ragged man ?" That, my son, is the great oomposer of grand operas." "And who is that fine-looking gentleman with such good clothes ?" That's the man who wrote the latest popular song, Never let your mother carry up the coal. How frail a thing life is in some people It ia said that an alleged murderer, who was taken out of gaol by a Kentucky mob a short time ago, riddled with bullets, hacked and carved with bowie knives, beaten all over the head with clubs and crowbars, and then saturated with kerosene oil and cremated, has died of his injuries. Is my face dirty t" asked a youug lady from the backwoods, while seated with her aunt at the dinner table. Dirty No. Why do you ask Because that insulting waiter insists upon patting a towel beside my plate. I've thrown three under the table, and yet every time he comes around he puta another one before me." Jones: That's a fine horse you're leading, Patrick he carries his head well.—Pat Thavs true; and it's a grand tail he carries behind him.—Jones Behind him don't everything that carries a tail carry it behind him ?—Pat No, yer honour.—Jones: No what don't ?—Pat: A halfpenny, sure, carries its tail on one side and its bead ou the other. HE WAS SENSITIVE.—" You are an ignominious "Look here, I'll not stand that. I'll see my lawyer and have him sue you for libel." I ought not to have used such language. Here is a quarter. Let us oall it square. No, sir, never You don't know me. When a man me an ignominious ass I never compromise under fifty cents." Fond Mamma I am glad you had such a nice time at Mrs Tiptop's, and I hope she neticed how carefully ycu had been brought up. You did not ask twice for dessert, did you ?—Small Son No, indeed, ma. I didn't have to. Every time I finished a dish and began scraping the saucer with the spoon and smacking my lips the waiter came and brought me some more without my saying a single word. CORRECT.—Nelson A. is a high-school pupil about 16 years old and very large. In tho language class the teacher said Nelson, you may give some examples of the plural of nouns." The boy had a large chew of gum in hIS mouth, and between smacks managed to articulate Mouse, mice goose, geese." At this point the teacher interrupted with, "Nelson, are you ohewing?"—Nelson (smack, smack): The plural of words. j DOESN'T ALWAYS PAY.—" Have you ever had any patrons who wete somnambulists ?" the writer asked an hotel keeper. Have I ? I had one last week." "Tell me about it." "One night as I was about to leave the offioe," said the Boniface, I noticed a man coming downstairs with a bag in his hand. He was staring straight ahead, looking at nothing, just like a three-weeks- old baby. I followed him till he reached the outside door, and then caught him by the collar. tho matter?' he gasped, acting just like a man who has beeu suddenly awakened. Oh, nothing,' said t. Where are you going ? Why, am I not in bed t" he exclaimed. Not at this present moment.' I replied. 'I must have been asleep,' ho mur- mured, looking like a dog who has been caught in the act of chasing sheep. Maybe you were,' said I, 'but yon can bst the amount of your un- paid bill that I'm wide awake.' So I brought him back to the cashier's desk and made him settle up. Then the porter and I thorougly awoke him by kicking him out of the place." From the above anecdote it is to be interred that somnambulism doesn't pay—at least in a hotel whose proprietor is wide awake.
Y GOLOFN GYMREIG. 41-
Y GOLOFN GYMREIG. 41- Dyraunir i'n gobebwyr Uymreig gyfeirio eu goheb- iaethau, llyfrau i'w hadolygu, &c., fel y canlyn: Dafydd Morganwg, Morgcmwg House, LlantwiU street, Cardiff.
AT EIN GOHEBWYR.
AT EIN GOHEBWYR. Gweddnewidiad yr Iesu. Ymddengys, Y Tlawd a'r Cyfoethog."—Da iawn. "Nis gaIlaf ddweyd beth yw."—Cymmeradwy iawn. Yr Eira."—Lied amddifad o farddoniaeth. Fe ddichon yr ymddengys y ddau bennill cyntaf. Y Ddanodd."—Y llinell olaf yn wallus. Newidiwyd hi. Y Diweddar Arglwydd Aberdar."—Rhy an. nghelfydd. Enoch."—Rhy draethodol. Nid adrodd hanea neu nodi ffeithiau mewn rnydr yw barddoniaeth. Peth Ofer yw 'Difaru."—Gochelwch sillgolli, os gellir. frawddeg yn llawer gwell fel hyn Gwaith ofer edifaru," er mwyn gadael yr "yw" allan, neu "Gwaith ffol yw Modd bynag, ymddengys yn ei dro. "Yr Iesu yn y Canol."—Pryddest sylweddol. Cyfoded Duw." — Diolch yn fawr am y bryddest. "Doethineb."—Pryddest goeth diolch. "Blodeuyn yr eira."—Yn ei dro. Os oes rhai o'n darllenwyr neu ein gohebwyr yn gwybod am lyfr o'r enw The South Wales Coal 5.ie'dJ by *'• Moses," ar werth, byddwn yn dra diolchgar am y wybodaeth.
BARDDONIAETH.
BARDDONIAETH. Y DANCHWA. Ar ei edyn-chwim dihuna'r danchwa, A i allu ingawl drwy'r tir ollynga Cewri anian, ei drwrn-rwysg a'u cryna, A drysau cedyrn daear ysgydwa, A swn dinystr a daena!— gesyd yn mryd Dyn i ochelyd y Danchwa Oia'! Clydach. WM. RICHARDS.
LLENYDDIAETH Y PARWYDYDD.
LLENYDDIAETH Y PARWYDYDD. LJenyddiaeth Parwydydd yw'r testyn sy'n awr Yn goglais yr awen i ganu; Mae i gynwys yn fang a'i effaith yn fawr, Ond edrych ar bobpeth o'i ddeutu Mae'r Wasg yn ymffrostio am gynydd y gwaith Sydd trwyddo yn dyfod i'w meibion Arwisgir pob psnod sy'n rhaglen ei raith Ag addurn-lyth'renau gorwvehion. cario'r fiaenoriaeth mewn gwlad ac mewn Ar oraf Ieuyddiaeth y llyfrau [tref Mae'r elfeu boblogaidd sydd vma mor gref Mae n tynu blaen-sylw pob graddau Ceir tasgau dyryslyd mewn llyfrau o hyd, A u dysgu sy'n boen i'r efrydydd Olld pynciau mwynhaol, a masuach y byd, Sy n hritno Llenyddiaeth Parwydydd. Pa le ceir llenyddiaeth oleuwedd mewn gwlad Mor gyflawn o bob arwyddluniau? Cawn yina ddelweddiad o'r byd yn mhob stad, 0 r pruddaf i'r llonaf ei stranciau cywrain a'r hynod sy'n syndod i'r byd, Y pethau sy'n dwyn nodau gwyrthiol, I'w cael yn Llenyddiaeth Parwydydd o hyd, Trwy gyfrin a dyfais ddewinol. Mae chwyrn symudiadau yr oes yn y blasn, hela am elw a chlodydd, I'r byd yn ymddangos, mewn nodau di'staen, Ar swynol Lenyddiaeth Parwydvdd. Mewn arddull ddeniadol d'wed, Tyred a gwel, Ddarllenydd, paid bod yn gybyddlyd, Yn nglyu a'm gwahodcliad mae hufen amel, A'u profi drydd iti'n brawf hyfryd. Darpara ar gyfer y llygad cly w, Caiff meddwl a chorff ei ddiwallu Cyrhaedda chwaeth dynion o bob math a rhyw, Yn gyflawn wrth ddyfal bregethu forwyn beidroed a Uuaws o dras, Y campau Oiympaidd-llawn hoenedd,— Y pethau sy'n hollol gydweddol a bias Y dosparth chwareiius ei duedd. GWttl gywrain fyncgfys cynlluniol y byd, I dywys pob un at chwant bywyd Ond dichon fod llawer yn talu yn ddrud Am ddilyn ei hud gyfarwyddyd. arwain llaweroedd i a.wyr niwynhad, Chwareudy deniadol ai actau,— Lie meddiry dalent medrusaf mewn gwlad I chwareu llinynau teimladau. Am bwyntio i'r gyngherdd nef-leisiol, a'i hedd, Mae penod Llenyddiaeth Parwydydd; Lie hapus i'r meddwl trwy'r glust i gael gwledd 0 gynwys melnodau ysblenydd A goleu'r Lenyddiaeth sy'n arwain y byd I bob ardda.r.gosfa. gyvvreiniol, Lie gwelir celfyddyd a natur yn tighyd Mewn gwenau agwychder arddunol. Fe syrthiai llaweroedd pynciau i'r clawdd Heb gymorth Llenyddiaeth Parwydydd Ond trwy ei goleuni beudithiol a'i nawdd, Ant rhagddynt yn llawen ar gynydd O'r isaf arwerthiad i'r uohaf mewn gwaith, Er cyrhaedd tywYl!ol amcanion Mae'n gall ragredegydd, mae'n hwyl ac yn nerth, I'r gweithwr i daro bargenion. Gwel enau cyhoeddus i siopwyr ein gwlad I ddatgan am ddillad a bivydydd A pbrin gt.d!em feddwl fod nwyddau mor rhad, H«b ddarllen Llenyddiaeth Parwydydd. Os oos un helt wybod am fanau i gael Y goraf fargenion ar reidiau, Doed yma, caiff weled mewn argraff diffael Pa 10 caiff y rhataf gorau. Ac hefyd ca.wn banes cyffeiriau llawn rhin, Ar leni Llenyddiaeth Parwydydd, Er rhoddi adloniaut i bob calon fiin, Llwyr ryddid o'i bla i'r goddefydd. Mae swn yr honiadau sydd yma'n ddidaw Gan ddynion sy'n herio clefydau, Yn dangos fod borau'r Milflwyddiant gerllaw, Daw newyn am ebyrth ar Angau. I'r gwreng a'r boneddig cyfrana yn rhad Wyhodaeth o rin ymarferol; Mae'n Ilan w bwlch angen mynegol y wlad Mewn cydffurf a'r myn'd" eymdeithasol. Y neb sydd am fyned yn mlaen gyda'r byd, A phlygu i bob ffasiwn newydd, Caiff weled troadau'r oHvynion i gyd, Trwy ddrychau Llenyddiaeth Parwydydd. Mae'n agerdd pwffyddol i symud yn mlaen, I g&rwyr a gyrwyr am swyddau, Er gwasgar eu hemau a'u clodydd ar daen, Yn adeg y brwd Etholiadau Mae'n dafod dros ddwyblaid wrthwyneb vo aWl, A dengys pob un ar ei eithaf; I gael buddugoliaeth yn swn borw mawr, Dwy fyddin ategant gM boethaf. Mae'r fantais a ddyry excursions i'r byd, I deith'.o ar diroedd a moroedd, Ar raglen Llenyddiaeth Parwydydd o hyd Er sicrhau'r cyfle i'r cyhoedd. O'r braidd gallwn gyfri'r manteision yn llawn Sy'n nghynwys Llenyddiaeth Parwydydd, Mae dangos y pnfau yn ddigon i'r dawn, Rhaid gadael y gweddill yn llonydd. Yn da.1 am onestrwydd, os colli rhyw beth A gollodd un arall trwy anffawd, Trwy'i drosi i'w bercher. I'{w.ol wobrwy ddifeth Trwy parwydydd yn barawd Of codi i'n herbyn bydd gelyn ein gwlad, A'n teyrnas yn gorthrymydd, Bydd gal wad a bounty am resi 1'1" gad I'w wel'd trwy Lenyddiaeth Parwydydd. O'r Cyrddau Lleuyddol lluosog a. gawn, I fyny i'r Wy) Genedlaethol, dynfaen i'r Huoedd er noddi pob dawn, Yn rhinwedd ei nod gymhelliadol; Ac eto mae'n wMltad yn anog y 11 u I gyrchu i Wyliau Merch Seion, Er profi o'r gwleddoedd ardderchog y sy' Yn arhvy gan Nefol genadon. Pe sylwai'r awenydd yn fanwl mewn can Ar bobpeth a wna i gymdeithas, Fe droai'r farddoniaeth yn rhyddiaeth diu, A chollai mydryddwr ei urddas. Gwell sychu'r ysgrifbin a gorphwys ynawr, Mae meithder yn darllenydd, Ond cipio y llawryf wnai'm hymffrost yn fawr Yn nglyn a Llenyddiaeth Parwydydd. Porth. E. ODYNFAB EDWABDS.
Y BRYN.
Y BRYN. Henafol Fryn! eisteddaf wrth dy droed, Ond gyd nis medraf ddweyd dy oed Yr wyt yn ben, and mae dy aantaidd fri Mor wyn a'r boreu hwnw ganed ti. Mor leuanc wytl mae rhyw newydd-deb byfchol Yn toni'u daweldros dy dynerol; Mae rhyw ledneisrwydd dwyfol fel y wawrddydd Yn gwrido gruddiau dy borfeydd ysblenydd Hoenusrwydd esmwyth, fel yr awel bwyrol, Chwareua'n wylaidd dros dy drem urddasol. Heddychol Fryn! gogoniant a thangnefedd Yrnddrirgant yn hamddenol dros dy lechwedd, Fel dringa'r wawrddydd ei dwyneiuiol risiau, I'w gorsedd aur i urddas yr wybrenau. Fel teyrn breninol gweuu uwoh y glyn, Mewn dewrder pur, O! awdurdodol Fryn! Gwialen heddweh befria yn dy law, Gweryri ddychrynfeydd drwy'r glyn islaw. Dy orsedd a fawiheir gan dlysau natur, Dy urddosolrwydd hefyd gydnabyddir. Mae milmyrdd o wvrdd gan fywyd, Fel po'n gysgod dy gadernid Y dawel ffrwd, yn newydd o alw Dnw, Furmura fiwsig newydd i dy glyw; Y dyffryn prudd, f«l milwr yn oi waed, A biyga'n ostyngedig wrth dy draed A hi'.hau, y dewfrigog dderweti gref, Sy'n ysgwyd ei changhenau yn y m'f, I Ar ltiwr y glyn, fel hawddgar ddnwies bri, Yn ei gwyleidd-dra pur, gostynga'i ti Y llwynau heirdd, u blo'dau tpg y pemt, Sy'n lleuu harddwd) dros y loew riant— Sydd fel angyhudd dorf grnddiau'n wyø, Yn dy addoli di, O! gadarn Fryn. Gyfoethog Fryn! o fawn dy ddyfnion gelloedd Yn ddirgel Jlecha gwasanaethgar fwnoedd Deal!(far ddyfais dyn ddatoda th seiliau, A chymer haen ar haen o dy drysorau; Ar lawrlen werdd dy gysegredig odreu ffynon têr ei gloewon tfrydiau. Ac utuddha i ddeddfau ei bodolQetll- Sef dyfrhau anghenion creadigaeth. O! ddyrohafedig fod mae anianyddiaeth Yn gwenu arnat ti a pber amrywiaeth Dy goryn gwyn, yn wlyb gan wlith y borau, Sy'n esgyn i gyfrmach&'r cymylau Pelydrau Cawr y Dydd," o bwlpud nen, A songanfc dros dy addumedig ben. Treiddgarol lygad Bardd, yn dy amrywiaeth, Ddarllcna'n glir gyfrohm o farddoniaeth— Barddoniaeth wedi oi wan gan egiu natur— Barddoniaeth yn e?;luro Duw yn eglur. O! ardderchocaf Fryn calon yr Athrottydd A deimla yn dy geinion hwsi newydd,— Miwsig yn ddirgelwch yn vi hanfod— Miwsig a raid cael Dnw ei anD i'w.'nabod. Olvdach. WM, RICHARDS.
-__--Art Up te Date.
Art Up te Date. Little Girl: Oh, mamma, come and look at the beautiful rainbow. Mamma Hush, my dear, it is very bad fortt to admire such a crude combination of red,yellowt and blue. A New Era of dturnalism. City Cousin Well, Hiram, is James Simpson painting his barn, or is Hank Ryan laying a new plank in his sidewalk, at Squedunkville nowa. days ? Country Cousin No, William them good old days has gone. We've got a daily paper daown Suggestions for Lent. Confine your diet to fish, but remember that nothing compels you to use any but the very best quality, done up in the finest style. Keep quiet and grow fac, but not of such dimensions as to make a dime museum engage- ment advieab.e. If you miss a young man from business, look for him at church. He will be sure to have gon* there to look for his sister. j Labour Nate. What is the meaning of the saying that a man shall earn his bread in the sweat of his brow V asked a boy in a New York school. Have you never observed a man working on a warm day ?" asked the teacher. No, don't think I ever saw one." j What does your father do on a right hot day ? He goes bathing out at Coney Island," U What is your father's business J" He is a walking delegate." there naow. A Dangerous Topic. Last night at one of the nero churobes fa Atlanta the preacher, who is visiting in the oity, was painting a picture of the fires of hell with all the vehemence of his rugged oratory. Suddenly a brother in the amen corner arose and said, Passon, if yer keep er talking 'bout fire on such a cold night like dis I'ze feared ev'y one of dese here niggers will be a-wanting ter 10 to perdition. Winding It Up. Stockholder You are the receiver appoinbed to wind up the affairs of the Bushall Company, f believe. Lawyer: Yes, sir. What are the prospects ?" Well, things looked very gloomy for awbU4\ but they are brightening up now." Ah, I am glad to hear that "Yes, niaks yourself easy. There is little doubt now that we can realise enough out of it to pay my salary." Not So Stupid. There's a, man to see you, sir," said the office boy politely. Well, you stupid, didn't I tell you I wouldn't see anybody ?" '• Yes, sIr." Then why did you receive him I told him to wait without, sir." Without what?" said the boss, expecting tc crush the boy by his chestnut. Without any chance of seeing you, sir," and the boy dodged through the door. Scene in a Bank, President What is Mr Schneider's balance to. day ? Cashier Ten thousand dollars. And how is it being playecl1" U Policy." Well, perhaps you had better shift to faro. Buy blue checks, please, and play my system. Is Schmidt's balance sifted in at Robinson's f Yes, sir." Then take Johnson's deposit over and play heavy. If we don't break thfrt poker game we will go broke ourselves. Mealtime, I will be out at the track. I purchased a fiie tip on the races this morning, and I Wi1! play i for all it is worth." (Exit with the cash-box.) They Haal Suffered. The town was full of grated old boys in blue, bands played, and the struts were gay with flags and bunting. So it was when I saw a gleam of recognition flash between two battle-narred veterans as they feU into each other's armsfith a whoop. I stopped to listen to their reminiscnces. Ah, Bill, old oomrade it is a long time since we were last side by aide cried the taller of the two. You bet, you exekmed the other. I've often thought of you, of ar marches through the mud, the snow, the alee—to and fro. Ah, old man, those were times ^f suffering and priva- tion The other uncovered his head; and, sfcili holding his comrade byhe hand, said solemnly, Yes but, thank heaen, those days are ovei for us both I" Yes," assented the^ther "I moved awa] shortly after you did." Yes they had beeniomrades and fonght side by side but the privcions they had suffered a& suburban residents Jersey town were greener and rankled more tha the hardships of bivouaO and battle. Mistok the Signal. A well-known egineer on a Texas railroad, who has a slight ii*>ediinent iu his speech, had an interview one dir with his divisional superin- tendent, the uatue of which gradually leaked out and became asource of considerable fun for the boys. The stay goes that on a recent run hit engine had a coision with a cow, resulting disastrously to thenimal in question. By a rul. of the railroad (04)any such accidents must b< reported by the engineer and conductor in writing, and for 80:e reason the engineer forgot his duty on this ocssion until be was summoned before the railroad magnate for p-ivate inveetig- tion. M said t, superintendent, how ia if that you failed to port the killing of a cow on your run of such a lte ?" I d-d-d-don't (member any s-s-such acci. dent," replied th knight of the footboard, scratching his heachoughtfully. Well, you certaly must have killed a oovi on that run, for it ts reported in due form by the conductor," insted the superintendent. N-n-n-no, I d-didn't," said the engineer. Now, jnst thina little, and see if you remember it," said ,6 peisistent interrogator. No. I c-ki-kitnt remem-m-member ki-ki, killing any CO.CO-Cf. I d-d-do remember stri- stri-strikjng one, b-but I looked out of the wi. wi-wi-window and w her lying on ber b-b-baci by the side of thttra-a-ck, moving her fast," motioning with hiaands-" to go ahead, and I took it to mean thishe w-w-w-waa all right." He was warned at to be too sure of such signals in the futu; Net Th Kind of a Man. Old Bill McGamm, who keeps a grocery sterr in the suburbs of Atin, is one of tbe closest met in the State of Tex. He abbreviates his words in writing. He uireviates the names on ibc drawers and boxesE the contents in his grocery. Instead of paintingie names in full, for instance, be painted on the barrel, Br. Sugar," lot Brown Sugar," at so on. One day a feebleooklDg stranger dropped into Mr McGammon's sre, and after looking around, asked: Is Dr. Prunes Old McGammontared and said he reckoned not. Is Dr. Codfish, then 1" asked the stranger. No, he is not said old McGammon, em. phatically. Then tell Dr. ferries I would like to see him if he is at leisure." "You get out oflte. I believe you escaped from the lunatic asylu This ain't no medioine college; this is a grocery," retorted old McGammon, gettiired in the face. "If this is a joery, then you'd better carry back them doctor'fgns to where you stole them from," responded t stranger, strolling out. Old McGammonoked where the stranger had pointed, and for thfirst time noticed the result of abbreviating thword dried into Dr. for on the drawmread in large !etters-" Dr. Prunes," Dr. Peres," Dr. Codfish," Dr. Cherries," "Dr. as," "Dr. Apricots," and Dr. Beef." She We Conscientious. Ob, I had a pectly lovely time last ni,bt." enthusiastically one of Harlem's best known society ladi ihis morning. "Instead of going to the club try always stays home on Friday evening, ] he and I icvited a few friends up toplayrds. We always start out ta play euchre, whist.ibbage, but after a while a draw game is sugg«d. Well, last evening there were five of usplaying, and things were about even. Oono hand that was dealt everybody but £ B Kntie E-, and myself dropped r. Now you know how lucky he is at can Now, I knew by the way hoicked that ) had a good hand. I gave Katie the wi and she made a bet. B raised her. I dide same. Katie raised again, Mr B saw it, 1 I raised the bet. We re- peated the operan until Mr B got scared and threw down tcards. There was about$40 in the pot, and af betting back and forth a few times Katie and ifreed to divide." Why, wash'tiat lovely ? What did yon hold ?" "Only a pair deucee, and Kate only had # pair of nines. How did you nage the game, anyway J" Oh, that was y enongh," answered the fait exponent of draw ith an air that would have done credit to aold sport. Well, you see Katie and I knowfnething about the game, and we have it made nbetween us. We always do that when we h& a chance. Harry told us about it. He saic cost him$300 to learn it. I wouldn't pa.y thatuch to learn a trick at cards, would you ? Wh.lo you think Mr B- held ? Nothing thin Ws»=n'f Sr good to bet him ?" What poking to do with the mOlley- buy that lovely b-set you were talking about "Why, the Ide Of course I am not. I put every cent, of it ifhe collection box at church. I couldn't thinkf keeping money I won af cmrds.