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-= "4'l,.i,1, ø'>n#:1\ |THE, CSH8D BEflfil) S<1 ,Jh»r, Ii-' b [ it ;< HICHABB Synopsis of Previous Chapters. CHAPTERS I. and If.-f)crottiy Gilbert is walking in the convent garden with her friend Frances YTernou when she is sent for by Sister Celest-sne. Dorothy is introduced to a Mr George Emmett. a stout and dsagreeable person. He tells her that. her father, on his death, nine months' previously, had appointed him her guardian, and he asks her to leave the convent at a few moments' notice. She does I so. and Vie takes her away on hi.s motor car. 1 They tour through France together, she grove- ingto detest him more day by day, and to wish herself back in the convent. Landing in Eng- land, Emmett takes Dorothy to a racing centre in the Midlands by rail. There having taken apartments at the •• Bolton Arms Hotel," Emmett tells hid ward that she will have to marry hitn, and gives her a ring. Just then he is told that a gentleman wishes to see him. He leaver the room, and in his absence Dorothy determines to run away. She is on the point of leaving when she hears footsteps approaching, and hides behind the curtains. CHAPTERS III. & IV—F rom her place of concealment Dorothy overhears a violent altercation between Emmett and a strange man. The latter cails her re- puted guardian a thief. who, retalia-' ting, they come to blows. The stranger strikes Emmett with murderous force on the head with a champagne bottle. Emmett col- lapses, and the stranger leaves him for dead. Dorothy is terrified and remains motionless. By and bye the waiter enters, finds the body, and retires precipitately, locking the door after him. Then he returns with the hol proprietor, Mr Elsey, and his wife. They are horrified, discuss the crime, and finally leave again, locking the door after them as they go. CHAPTER V. Dorothy is Left Alone with Her Guardian for the Night. With the passing minutes Dorothy's plight took a different shape. When she had first rushed behind that curtain it had been with a childish desire to hide to avoid the man who had threatened her with kisses, and perhaps worst: for her maiden soul had warned her that he was one who, if opportunity offered, would not stop a,t a little. In sheer childish terror she had 6ed to the first refuge she could think of, as if it was a refuge, as if, after an instant's search, he was not sure to discover her hiding-place and have her out The advent of the stranger, if in a way it had saved her, had also complicated the sifcutation It was not, then, so much discovery she had to fear as something it was not good to think of. Indeed, the situation was reversed, because had she then taken the initiative and disco- vered herself, not only would she have been eaVed, but also Mr Emmett, and the strangsr. Too late she was beginning to realise that all three were destroyed, the two living and the "De dead. Practically, in killing Mr Emmett, the stranger had killed himself and her. It might turn out that he had done it actually. And in his action she was aware that she had been an aider and abettor. So in remaining hidden she had thrown away her own salva- tion. The position now. however, wore a different aspect. Her mental faculties were more on the alert than they had been, as it seemed to her they kept coming and going so that now she raw clearlv, and now not at all. So far as they enabled her to judge, now, again, her only hope of immunity rested on her continuing undiscovered. If they found her all sorts of dreadful consequences would immediately result. For one thing they would quite pro- bably accuse her of having had at least a haad in her guardian's death, if she were not the actual assassin—not unnaturally, taking it for granted that tier persistent concealment could only have a criminal meaning. She rould only disprove the charge, if it could be disproved, by shifting the onus of guilt on to the vanished stranger s shoulders. Already, though as yet the thing might not be acknow- ledged to herself, in her heart she had arrived at a final resolution that under no conceivable circumstances would she bear witness against him. Happen what might, where in this irinU-er he was concerned, she would be dumb. A had not formulated it in so many words, slve felt that, in what had been done, ",rl been partners, even friends that, «i :ucb .fittingly, it had been done for her. Therefore, it u prove her innocence it should become necessary ° prove hi- guilt, her wa." .1ed. In that so soor they drew I aside th* rurtiin, and iouud. her behind it, her fate was sealed. It amazed her to think that she had not been discovered already. She herself was so conscious of her imminent proximity to what had taken place, was so well a warp of how slender a protection that screen of hanging drapery really was, that it bewildered her that she should have played, with. complete impu. nity far so long. the part of spy, and more. But the continuance of such impunity could not be counted on. When the police came— and possiblv they were already on the thres- hold, the room would be searched for evidence. Then in a-, moment her hiding-place would be revealed. She. could not wait for that—she must get a-way out of the room, before they came. But how ? since the door was locked. Parting the curtain, she stepped out from between them, looking about her eagerly for a kev to the riddle. The wildest notions came Into her head. There was a sideboard at one end of the room, with a cupboard beneath. It might not occur to them to look inside that, cupboard might there not be a room in it for her ? A moment's consideration made her ioubt it. She might be able to squeeze herself into a small space, hut, compress herself a-! she might, she doubted if there would be room for her inside that cupboard even if it was „mpty. which was by no means sure. Then there was the fireplace but though it was old fashioned, it not a large one she was -prettv certain that she would not he able to force herself up the chimney. But though she crammed herself into the cupboard, or ,wnmed herself up the uc, she wouIrl still he itt better off. That was not at III tiit- sort of thing she wanted. She would still he in the •oom what she wanted was to get out of the room. Plainly there was only two ways out ,nfit-thi- floor and the window. Since the door was locked, only the window remained. Drawing back into the recess she turned towards the window it would have to be that way. since there was no other. though she threw herself out of it. Getting inside the ^ind she tried to raise the sash it was im- ible obviously, it. was fa;stened She ht. nothing of English windows this was the first. øu, h?d seen but she presumed that it was meant to open. She searched for the fastening above, below, on either side so far as she could learn, there was none apparent- lv this window was a fraud-it was not meant to open. Examining it more closely, she saw that there was nothing on either side to show that it was intended to be moved up and down: the paint was unbroken: the thing was a picture. The discovery startled her was it an English custom to have no practicable window in a room ? Nothing which would admit fresh air? If that were so then, sirice the door was se- cured against her beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt, she was caught like a. rat in a trap, and only Gorl could help her. She noticed that what looked like two wooden bandies were hung on the ends of cords on either side of this dummy window, near the top of the sash. Did they mean anything ? If thev did, what was it ? She gripped the two on the right, and pulled then the two on the left. and pulled at them nothine happened. Then she per- ceived that one handle on either side was of dark, and the other of hghtwood perhaps thfit. meant something. She took hold of the lighter handle on either side, and was about to tug; when she heard the key turned in the lock. Instantly the handles slipped from hetweeen her fingers but before she could get from likund the blind she heard the door open, and footsteps came into the room. -.Thistime she was indeed at a disadvantage. Tixall intents and purposes she was pinned Weel1 the blind and the window she dared BOt-move, since the slightest movement caused stiffened blind to mate an ominous rust- line if she tried to get awav from under it. she would be certain to make a noise which would ensure discovery. The only thing she could do was to stay where she was, and to jsefrain, if the thing were possible, from moving even so much as a muscle. She could see nothing. At first, in the shock of being taken unawares, her limbs trembled so her train was in such a tumult there was such a singing in her ears, that she could not even hear. It was only by degrees that the sounds resolved themselves into distinct voices and she became conscious of what was being said. The personage, who was a landlord, and whose name was Elsev, had entered the room and his wife, who declined to be kept out, and a fair-haired, spectacled young mn, who was a doctor and a policeman, who chanced to be the nearest at hand. The procession of four moved towards the table. The landlord spolte his manner suggested a sense both of import- ance and of resentment- Here, Dr Nichols, and officer, is Mr Em- mett. as you can see for yourselves. You see him exactly as he was found by Timmins, one of my waiters. Timmins is outside the door, aiad can give testimony to that effect, if re- c quired. He has not been touched and nothing has been touched each thing is just as it was when discovered, as Timmins can testify, and as. for that matter, I can testify, because I know it to be a fact. As regards this unfortu. n'lote man, the question now is-is life ex- tinct ?" He spoke as a showman might have don?, who wished to call attention to the special features of his show. The doctor was bending over the figure in the chair. M How long is-it siuce he was found in this candium I" g "It might he ten minutes—it might be a quarter of an hour—:1, might he more. Timmins i:; outside and will < orroborate me if required. At the earliest possible moment I sent for you, you happening to be the medical gentleman who lived nearest." I should say that there can be little doubt but that, as you put it, life's i extinct hut it 3 not easy to examine him properly in this chair." He looked round the room, his glance passing over the curtained recess. If he had only known of the girl who shivered within it That. couch wouldn't be convenient, either, it's not long enough. Couldn't you have a mattress or something placed upon that table ? We might lay him on it, or, for the matter of that, we might manage without." Certainly you can have a mattress. I wish to do everything for Mr Emmett, who is an old customer of mine, which can pos.sibly be done, though nothing can he more serious than the inconvenience, to say nettling of the posi- tive loss vvhieh he is likely to occasion me. Timmins The waiter came just outside the door. rubbing his chin. Fetch me a mat- tress. at once." Y es, ir, Where from, sir ?" "Anywhere Don't be a fool. sir, and stand gaping there. Do as you are told." His wife interposed. It's you who's the fool, Mr Elsey. Where do you suppose Timmins is going to get a mattress from ? Who do you suppose is going to give it him without my sanction ? Come with me. Timmins I'll see that a mattress is got." When she reapdeared the waiter was carrying one doubled up on his shoulder. A space had been cleared on the table, on which the mat- tress was placed. Then the landlord, the waiter, the doctor, and the policeman lifted Mr Emmett between them. The united four seemed to find him no easier burden than the stranger, single-handed, had done. While the doctor was -till conducting his gruesome exam- ination someone else came into the room-an inspector of police. Him the landlord greeted with bustlirg cordiality. Most dreadful thing has happened Mr Tin- ney So unfortunate for nif- that it should have occurred in my house, at this, my busiest season. Ofte of my oldest customers, too-iNIr Emmett. I daresay you know him." George Emmett ? Oh, yes, I know him Who doesn't. ? How did it happen ?" That's what we don't know-what nobodv seems to know. That's the mystery. The whole affair is most mysterious—and—and lamentable. To put it at its lowest, with every desire to put self on one side, one can't help feeling that someone has been guilty of a very unfriendly act to me. In my business one never know-! how this sort of thing may be taken, especially by one's best customers. At this moment every bedroom's full, yet directly this becomes known I may have my house empty on my hands. My race week spoilt I will certainly give you such an undertaking," said the hotel manager. What's the cause of death ?" I The inspector put this question to the doctor. "A blow with some blunt instrument which must have been delivered withtremendous force, Some of the frontal cranium bones seem to be broken in two or three places., Of course, my examination has at present only been super- ficial, but that appears to be the case." The landlord proffered an addition of his own. It looks as if the blow had been delivered with a champagne bottle." He held up the broken neck. We found this on the table, and the remaining pieces are here upon the floor." The inspector again addressed the doctor. Could it have been done with a champagne bottle 1" The doctor settled his spectacles on his nose. Being a young man, a sense of responsibility seemed to weigh upon him. His reply was guarded. It might. Of course, you understand that I am not prepared to give a definite opinion, but, to some extent, my present impression is that it might have been." The inspector turned to the landlord. "Don't you know who was in the room with him ?" That's the point, we don't that's to say, not so that we can speak with certainty. You see, this is a private sitting room. and occu- pants of private sitting rooms have visitors of whom we know nothing. We can't keep an eye upon them as if they were public rooms it stands to reason. But one of my waiters, named Timmins-this is Timmins—informs me that he brought a message and a note to Mr Emmett, who was enjoyinx his wine after dinner, to the effect thati, gentleman wished to see him, and that he went out to see the gentle- man, but whether the gentleman returned with him Timmins cannot say." The inspector addressed the waiter. When you brought that message, was he alone ?" Yes, sir, he was alone, except for the young lady." The landlord exclaimed "Young lady What young lady ?" Why. sir, the young lady he dined with he and she clined together." This is the first time you've mentioned a young lady." "Well. sir, he and the young lady had dinner together dinner was ordered for two. I thought you knew that." I knew nothing about it: this is the first I've heard about it. This is the first time I've heard about any young lady. Did you know about it ?" This last question was put to his wife. I knew a lady came with him he took two bedrooms, one for himself and one for her his was No. 238, hers was No. 49, on the floor above. He wanted her next to him, they tell me in the office, but the rooms on either side of his were engaged." What was the lady's n%me?" That I don't know I find he's entered himself in the book as George Emmett and Lady.' Wben I asked Miss Wilson, who was there when he came, why she let him do it she said that she asked him what was the lady's name, and he said that it was all right, and didn't matter." Did you see her ?" No, I can't say that I did. I'm told that she's quite young. She seems to have brought precious little luggage. There s only a small battered old tin box in her room." I can only, say that this is the first men- tion I've heard of any young lady I'd no idea that anyone came with him. I can't un- derstand, Timmins, why you didn't speak of her before." Well. sir, I thought you knew." Don't I tell you I didn't know ? What do you mean by persisting in thinking I knew ? I understood you to saytbat when you brought the message he was alone." So he was, sir, except for the young lady." Except for the young lady ? What the devil do you mean by exceptfcor the young lady ? He wasn't alone if she was there. was he The inspector interposed. That's all right. Mr Elsey, you leave this to me this is more in my line than yours." He tackled the waiter, whose expression, as they worried him, became more and more rabbit-like. You say that Mr Emmett and this young lady dined together." Yes, sir, they did I waited on them." Did she strike you as being young ? How old would you have set her down as 7" Well, sir, not more than seventeen or eigh- teen at the outside, though perhaps she might have been a little more or less. It's not easy to tell a young lady's age." Did she strike you as being a lady ? You know what I mean. Yes, sir, I do. Well, sir, I daresay-I should say, sir, she was quite a lady; most cer- tainly a lady, though plainly dressed, in fact, for a lady. almost shabby." Did she and Mr Emmett appear to be upon good terms." Well, sir, I couldn't exactly say that they did." What do you mean by that ? On what sort of terms were they ? Explain yourself, man t" Well, sir, for one thing sbt. never uttered so much as a single word while I was in the 1 room, neither t4. me nor to Mr Emmett not even so much as yes or no when I handed her a dish.. And she scarcely at e anyt hing and she never drank anything either. Mr Emmett-, told me to fill her glass with champagne, but I don't believe she ever so much as put her lips to it, in fact, when I came in and found him, there was her glass just as it was when I filled it. Mr Emmett, he did ail the talking. From the way in which she sat right hack in her chair—that's the chair in which she sat, sir-and never spoke or moved, it. seemed as if she were frightened half out of her life of him." Why should she be frightened ? Did you hear him say anything to frighten her 1" No. sir. nothing I could swear to. but he kept speaking to her in a chaffing sort of way, which I could see she didn't like." Did she seem to be angry—in a bad temper ?" -N-n. sir, not. so much that as afraid of him." When he went out to see this gentleman, did he leave her behind ?" Yes, sir, he did. on that, chair, and I couldn't help noticing how queer she looked so white that I couldn't help wondering if she was feeling ill." Was she here when you found him ?" No, sir, the room was empty." Did anyone see her go out of the room ? Did you ?" No, sir, I haven't seen her since I saw her sitting in that chair." Then where is she now ? Where is she, Mr Elsey ?" "I've no more idea than you have, Mr Tinnev. As I've already tried to explain, till a. moment or two ago I hadn't the faintest notion that there was a lady in the case." "Mrs Elsey, where is this interesting young larly Dorothy, behind the blind and the curtain,, could scarcely refrain from shriek- ing, Here Mrs Elsey shook her head. ".That's more than I can tell you, Mr Tinney. ".That's more than I can tell you, Mr Tinney. Beyond knowing that a young lady came with Mr Emmett, I don't know anything. What Timmins has been telling you is all news to me." Someone must know where she is if she's in the house. I don't want to make any state- ment, but it seems to me that, she's a most im- portant witness, and the sooner she's pro- duced the better. If, as Mr Timmins hints, she was feeling ill, she may have retired to her room. Perhaps, Mrs Elsey, you won't mind making inquiries. If she isn't in her room, wherever she is, she must be found, so don't let there lie any mistake about it I must have an interview with this very interesting young lady before we are either of us very much older you understand ?" I No, Mr Tinney, 1 can t say 1 do under- stand, not as you put it. I will have inquiries made, in fact I will make them myself but as for finding her wherever she is, that's an- ol-her question altogether, and one for which I dccline to be held responsible. Things are coming to a. pretty pass if I'm to be held responsible for the comings and goings of any one who chooses to take a room in my house." The lady sailed out of the room, with her head in the air. The inspector looked at her husband. I'm afraid I've trodden on Mrs Elsey's toes." She's very sensitive, Mrs Elsey is, very sensitive. I'm far from saying that you mean anything, but, as you must see for yourself, she has enough to bear already without having more put upon her." I'm putting nothing on her. I simply say that the young woman must be found, and if your good lady can't find her someone else will have to, because she's got to be found, and pretty soon." Quite so, Mr Tinney, quite so no one denies it for a single instant. I only wish that T had known of her existence sooner, much trouble might have been saved." How, that was not quite clear. The inspector made no comment. He turned to the waiter. Now, Mr Timmins, about this gentleman whom you say Mr Emmett went out to see. Did you know trim I Was he a stranger? What did he look like ?" "That, sir, is more than I can tell you, seeing that I never saw him. The message and the note were both brought to me by one of the coffee-room waiters, of the name of Dowling; he may be able to tell you more than I can." Then fetch Mr Dowling here." The landlord interposed. Excuse me—one moment, Mr Tinney. At present no one knows what has occurred except ourselves, and, if it is possible, I should like as few persons as possible to know, till the morning." "I don't see how you're going to prevent people knowing; you can't cover a murder with a napkin." Exactly still, at the same time if you wouldn't mind interviewing Dowling in my room, instead of here, I shall be only too glad to place it at your service, and to ensure you all possible privacy." U Very well, there need be no difficulty about that. Have you finished, Dr Nichols ?" I think I may say that, for the present, I have. Of course, a further examination will be necessary, but, I think, under the circum- stances, that. that may be postponed till the morning, when, perhaps, I may be able to have the assistance of one of my colleagues." Have the assistance of whoever you like- Have his pockets been touched, Mr Elsey ?" Certainly not, Mr Tinney nothing has been touched—nothing at least, not by anyone in my employ. I took care of that." Then I'll go through them in your presence. It's just as well to have witnesses in cases of th' sort." Mr Tinney went through the pockets of the man on the table, subjecting him to a process to which he would probably have strongly objected had it been in his power to object. A heterogeneous collection they produced. I'll put these things in my handkerchief, Mr Elsey, and, if you don't mind. I'll draw up a list of them in your presence in your room downstairs. In these cases you can't be too particular, and as it's quite within the bounds of possibility that circumstances may arise in which someone may wish to hold you respon- sible for the property which he had in his possession when he came to your hotel, its only right and proper that you should know exactly what I have got of his in my keeping. Now there's one other thing before we go downstairs—about this room. If the corpse is to be left here—and I think it'll be just as well that it should be—then I must lock the door and take the key. Have you a pass key t" I belieive I have one somewhere." Then you must let me have it; you must let me have any keys which fit that lock. And you must give me your undertaking that no one, neither you, nor Mrs Elsey, nor anyone, shall come into this room till I unlock it in the morning If you won't, or can't, give me such an undertaking then I shall have to leave one of my men outside there all night to keep an eye on the door to see that no one does come in." I will certainly give you such an under- taking—certainly I will I promise you that no one shall come near the room—no one You need have no fears upon that score." Then that's all right. Now I think we can go downstairs, and I'll hear what Mr Dowling has to say about that mysterious gentleman, who, maybe, wasn't so very mysterious after all. _&.nd perhaps Mrs Elsey may have some news for us of that very interesting young lady, though it doesn't seem as if she s found her, or we should have heard. I'm not giving away any official secret when I say that I shouldn't be surprised if that young lady turns out to be the key of the situation, and on that account it's just possible that she may not be so easv to find as we should like her to be. But found she'll have to be, and found she will be if our good hostess can't do it, then I will. I always was reckoned pretty good at hide and seek. I generally knew as well as another whether I was hot or cold. Now, gentlemen, ifvou please." The party passed to the door. The inspector switched off the lights, drew the door to after him, locked it, took out the key, and Dorothy was left alone, in the darkness, to spend the night with her guardian. (To be Continued.)
FOR CONSUMPTIVES.
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FOR CONSUMPTIVES. Newport's Pioneer Poiicy. At a meeting of the Newport Board of Guardians on Saturday (Mr T. Dutfield presid- ing), there was a good deal of discussion as to whether the Board should adopt the report of the resident medical officer of the workhouse, recommending that Springfield," a detached residence on Stow Hill, should be used as a sanatorium for consumptives and that it be kept strictly separate from the Workhouse Infirmary, and for the time being for male patients only. It was pointed out that the Board were pioneers in this matter. Eventu- ally the report was adopted, and it was resolved to engage charge andntaff mnaeflt attendants. Ac. j
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Dymunir i'n gohebwyr Cvmrcig gyfeirio eu gohebiaethau, llyfrau i w h^lolygu, etc., fe! y ca.nlvn IFANO, Cil Herld, Berthwin street, Cardiff."
AT Y BEIRDD.
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AT Y BEIRDD. Wele gynnvrch cain y cynghaneddwr da o Ystradfclltc nnwaith eto i'r Gotofn. Onid yw pryddest felus Teifi ar Fachlud Hnul" yn deilwng o'i awen lednais? Peidier ag ofni ei hyd hi a dal mewn mwyniant am ei darllen. Cerdd dins vw un Tonfab,er y gwel oddiwrth y cyfnewidiadau y dylai efrydu cystrawen y Gymraeg.
BARDDONIAETH.
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BARDDONIAETH. PROFIAD Y'BARDD. Du fileiniaid i'w flino-yn fynych We] f'enaid wrth grwydro; lid yn hawdd yr edwyn o Gomel na wga arno. Ystradfellte. Llanorfab.
EIRA YN NECHREU MAI.
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EIRA YN NECHREU MAI. 0 wybr hardd ar nant a bryn--daw eira'n Doraeth; ond yn sydyn 'Hed ymth. a chwyd emyn Lifeiriol haf ar ol hyn. Llanorfab.
YR HAF.
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YR HAF. O! dduwies haelionus! mae'th enw Yn swynol i'n clustau boh pryd; Trwy ddrych y canfyddem dy ddelw Tra'r gwanwyn ymwelai a'n byd; Ond O pan y daethost dy hunan, Gan wasgar dy roddion yn liael, Yn ddiball 'roedd clychau per anian Yn canu wrth dderbyn dy faeL Y corau asgellog ddatganan' Dy fawlgerdd a'u bronau yn dan; A daw i amrywio y gyngan Yi- 'hcdydd boreuol ei gin: Wrth deimlo dy anadl godidog Y gwyrddail a ddawnsiant yn rhydd, Ac agor eu hemrynt coronog Yn fyrddiwn wna Llygaid y Dydd, Mae effaith dy wiw bresenoldeb Bron hudo yr afon yn litn I aros wrth dynu dy ardeb: Mor araf vmdreigla yn mla'n; Ac ysbryd y weilgi cythryblus A beidia a. t gyffro yn awr Ei donau a ddawnsiant yn hwylus Wrth weled mor brydferth dy wawr. A diosg eu penwisg mae'r bryniau. I roesaw dyfodiad dy hynt; Y niwlen fu n cuddio'u hysgwyddau, A giliodd ar edyn y gwvnt; Eu penau urddasol ymgyfyd Fel pe yn ymryson am fod (Am goron gwyrddlesni a bywyd) Yr uchaf i ddatgan dy glod. O fel mac y nefoedd yn caru Teg wyncb y ddaear yn nwr; Yr haul sydd yn gwrido wrth godi; Gan serch mae'n hir oedi myn'd lawr; A'r ewmwl a gyfyd yn wylaidd Heb wisgo'r un wg ar ei ael, A'r manwlaw o'i gostrel ysbwngaidd Eneinia ei hwyneb yn hael. Mae'r ddaear a'r nefoedd yn eglur Yn datgan gogoniant yr haf: Ai dyn ydyw'r unig greadur Nad edwyn ei dymor a gr.f? Cydunwn mewn moliant yn wresog I Awdwr tymhorau ein byd; Am hal a cbynhauaf toreithiog Rho'wn iddo'r gogoniant i gyd. Ton Pentre. Tonfab.
MACHLUD HAUL.
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MACHLUD HAUL. i. Olygfa fendigedig, Ac eto ddwys a syn, Yn gwel'd yr haul yn machlud draw Dros goryn pella'r bryn; Sycrruda dros y gorwel I'r dyfnder pell i lawr, Fel brenin cryf yn myn'd i'w fedd, Mewn porphor fantell fawr. Yn araf, araf, sudda TTwch dyi-us ogofeydd, I Ac yn ei amgylchynu ef Mae dwyfol olygfeydd: Mae'r bryniau yn gaiaru Yn ei fachludiad ef, A dafna.u gwaed ddlsgynant ar Eigionau glas y Nef. Syrauda'r haul i'w wely, A henaint ar ei daith Yn araf a thrymlwythog, 'Rol gorphen dydd o waith, Prystirdeb leinw'i wyneb; Ei lygad byla'n llwyr, A'i farwnadol gan a rydd Ar fynwent lwyd yr hwyr. Y bryniau a'r mynyddoedd Sy fel bcddfeini prudd, Ac olion haul yn gloewi mewn Gwasanaeth at eu grudd; Llythrenau ei genhadaeth A edy ar bob bryn, A dafnau aur ei galon fawr A ffrydiant fron y glyn. Mae dorau'r Greadigaeth Yn cauad ar ei ol, Unigedd nos dyn len i lawr Dros harddwch teg y ddôl; Edrycha gwedd y blodau I 'r prudd orllewin draw. Fel pe am ofyn oil i'r haul Pa bryd yn ol y daw ? Tywyllu mae'r clogwyni. A'u tlysni guddia'i hun A chedyrn goed y goedwig fawr Alarant bob yr un Mae natur megys gweddw Yn cwynfan yn y dail Wrth wel'd prydferthwch bryniau'r wlad Yn diffodd gyda'r haul Mae'n myn'd yn dywysogaidd, Ac eto'n brudd ei gam; Mae bron a. rhoi ei olaf drem Ar fwthyn bach fy mam. it. Garedig deyrn! cyftawnodd ei genhadaeth, Bu n ffyddlon ac yn ddiwyd i'w wasanaeth; Ei wyn oleuni roddodd ar y bryniau; Cawododd ei ddyngarwch ar y caeau; Dihunodd gudd frodorion ein dyffrynoedd, A glasodd wyneb porfa ein mynyddoedd; Tywalltodd ei phiolau ar ein gerddi, A gwnaeth y blodau oil i wenu ini; Dadcbrodd gwsg y ddaear a/i gyjfyrddiad, Ac wele ef yn dianc mewn machludiad Ei gysgod aur a edy ar yr oror; Y mor a'i donau wridant dan ei borphor; Mae'r greadigaeth fel pe'n llwyd weddnewid Wrth wel'd yr hAul caredig draw yn machlud. Y dydd sy'n cau ei deml Ddisgleiriol uwch y môr, A thry yr haul ei allwedd aur Yn ei danbeidiol dd6r; A galar-fantell esyd Ar ysgwydd gref y graig A chaddug ei hwynebpryd hi Drv'n donau ar yr aig. Y mor, y bryn, a'r mynydd, Edrychant tua' nef, A gwelwant gyda'u gilydd yn Ei drist fachludiad ef; Yr hwn fu'n gwasanaethu Mor dyner ac mor gu Sy 'nawr fel pe yn pwyso 'i ben Ar fynwes angeu du. Uwcb ben y dyfnder unig Edrycha'n brudd ei wawr, Fel pc am roi ei olaf drem Ar donau'r Cystudd Mawr Edrycha ar y ddinas, Edrycha ar y wlad, Fel pe am alw sylw'r byd, At Gariad mawr ei Dad. Mae neges ei genhadaeth Yn loew ar ei wedd, A'i d'wedyd mewn Ilyth'renau tan A wna cyn myn'd i'w fedd; Ei bregeth gref a thanllyd 0 bwlpud tAr y Nef, Ddarllenir gan edmygedd byd Yn ei fachludiad ef. in. Mae'r haul yn machlud i roesawi'r nos I gerdded drwy ei hetifeddaeth dlos- Yncuddio'i hun er mwyn datguddio bydoedd Sy'n gwasanaethu yn mhellderau'r nefoedd- Y rh.%i ni ellir gwel'd eu golaii arian Heblaw i'r haul mewn beddrod guddio'i hunan Dis'tawa'r haul yn nghanol ei hyawdledd, I wrando ar leferytjd dyfnach mawredd Daw'r ser i'w gorsfeddfcinciau yn y nef Ar hyd gobeithion ei fachludiad ef Daw'r Ifoer i demi loew ei brenhiniaeth I ddysgu gloewach nen," ac am farddoniaeth Sydd eto heb ei darllen gan v byd- Barddoniaeth a'i meddy!iau n Dduw i gyd Ni ellir gwel'd na chlywed. pell ddatguddiad Heblaw i'r haul ymguddio mewn machludiad, Tra ef yn cau ei lygaid yn y nefoedd. O'r pellder cyfyd gieision heirdd ynysoedd I olwg dyn disgleiriant mewn new-ydd-deb Ac mewn gogoniant dwyfol, a thragwyddoldeb Fel pe yn hau goleuni tanbaid drostynt, A Duw yn siarad yn ddwyfolach drwyddynt; Ha, deg ynysoedd, dengar eich wynebpryd, A'ch holl breswylwyrheb adnabod Adfyd Ond Gwynfyd ieuanc yw eich gwyn etifedd, Ac ysbrydolrwydd bythol iddo'n fawredtd Ond rhakl i'r haul fachludo o'i orseddfa Cyn d'wedoch chwi genhadaeth eich pres wylfa; Y nos yw'ch temlau chwi, er fod eich gwisg- oedd Yn fedyddiedig gan oleuni'r nefoedd; Ar hyd eich brymau chwi ceir caniod byw Eosiaid—per gantorion goreu Duw; Ac wrth y pyrth tragwyddol hoffweh ganu Lie nad yw dwndwr byd yn aflonyddu; Ond cyn y gaUwn glywed can eich Gwynfyd, 31&e n rhaid i'r haul yn pstyngedig fachlud. Mae'r haul yn machlud weithian Dros ben y clogwyn draw; A'r nos a'i gweision hawddgar, cain, Hyd lesni'r Def a ddaw; Dadguddir y peIlderau- Gwyn feddylddrychau lor Sn canu s&lmau bythol Duw Yn anesgrifiol gor. Ffarwel, 0 deym brawdgarol 1 Ffarwel, ddyngarol haul! Darllenaf gyfraith meddwl Duw Ar dy ddihalog ddail; Fe guddir dy ogoniant Er dangos arall fri. EwyUys Cariad Dwyfol gaf Yn dy fachludiad di. CoadW4ki. £ ett&*e*(TettL).
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The Libel on the Dead. BY FRANCIS GRIBBLE, Author of The Things that Matter," The Red Spell," "A Romance of the Tuileries," The Pillar of Cloud," &c„ &c. The hook of the seivson—it; h unnecessary to specify the season—was indubitably the volume of Reminiscences entitled," Glimpses at the Great." The writer, who had quite recently died, was a comparatively unknown man, and there was no reason to suppose that he really knew anything about the great that was woth knowing, or, at any rate, warth reporting. His work. moreover, was brought out quite unostentatiously, without any pre- liminary flourish of trumpets. The public, however, soon began to find it out, and I my- self, soon he can to hear of it. Man after man asked me, at my club, and elsewhere "By the way,have you read Jonathan Ball's Glimpses at the Great 7' I not only answered that I had not read it, but I went on to ask, Who is Jonathan Ball, and what were his relations with the great ?" Oh, don't you know ?" was the answer. "Jonathan Ball was the late Lord Umberleigh's private secretary." Lord Umberleigh had been dead for a good many years, but his reputation still flourished exceedingly in religious and philanthropic circles. Celebrated for his piety, he had never tried to hide his light under a bushel. He had been President of the Society for Raising the Moral Tone of Mothers' Meetings, of the Society for Setting the World to Rights, and of half a dozen other societies of the same kind. He had frequently preached at Exeter Hall, in Hyde Park, and on the Beach at Brighton. It wasrumourcd that Prime Minnisters invariably consulted him before making appointments to vacant bishoprics and indeed one might sum the matter up by saying that no more admir- able nobleman had ever taken his seat in the Upper Chamber. Only," I said, I do not feel the faintest desire to read the Memoirs of his private sec- retary. His is the very last name round which I should expect lively or[entertaining anecdotes to cluster." I can quite understand your saying that," replied my friend," but I think I can under- take that you'll change your mind after you've read the book." "Why so?" Well, because you'll find that it throws quite a new and unexpected light upon Lord Umberleigh's sainted character. Indeed the revelations are of such a startling nature that the executors had some difficulty in finding a publisher. Several of the older houses de- clined to touch the book, but Smithsons. Limited, took it up, and, if I'm not very much mistaken, there's a small fortune in it, both for them and for the widow—which is lucky for her, as her husband had practically noth- ing else to leave her. The man wrote it, I'm told, on his death-bed, as his only chance of making some provision for her. There's a review of it, as it happens, in the literary supplement of to-day's Times.' Read that and see if it doesn't whet your curiosity." He fetched the paper from the table, found the passage, and showed it to me. The notice was short and severe, in the best Times" manner, and the essential sentences were as follow :— This is a book that ought never to have been written. Having been written, it ought never to have been published. Having been published, it ought to be left unread, for it is a scabrous and a scandalous production. Even if we implicitly believed all the calumnious allegations contained within its covers we should still consider that no language could be too strong to characterise the conduct of a pri- vate secretary guilty of such a shameless breach of confidence. Our respect, however, for the character and public services of the late Lord Umberleigh compels us, etcetera, etcetera." Now human nature is such that, when we hear that a book ought not to have been written, we immediately want to read it and form Our own opinion iJistead of being admon. ished by a superior person enthroned in an editorial chair. That, I will freely admit, was my own feeling in this particular instance. I rang for the waiter, and asked him whether Glimpses at the Great had been procured from Mudies. "We have three copies, sir," he replied, "but all of them are at present in use." You sée," said my friend and the fact was indeed evidence that the work was attract- ing attention. Further evidence to the same effect was fur- nished when I inquired for it at a circulating library. The book was out. And there's such a demand for it," said the assistant, that I really can't say when we shall be able to let you have a copy." My curiosity was now thoroughly aroused and I was the more curious because I had some acquaintance with the present Lord Umberleigh. who bad lately left Oxford, where, if report spoke correctly, his pace had been more rapid than his father would have liked. Moreover, now that my attention had been drawn to the book, reviews of it began to catch my eye in every paper that I took up, and they were by no means all of them as reticent as the review in the Times." One of them. I remember, in one of the Sunday papers, was headed" The Saint was full of quotations of the kind commonly called "spicy." Though the book was published at the prohibitive price of one guinea net, there seemed nothing for it but to go and buy a copy. The reasons for the vogue of the work were clear enough to me when I had read a few chapters, and so were the reasons why the older and more reputable firms had declined to honour it with their imprint. It did hot indeed accuse the late Lord Umberleigh of crime, but it drew an entirely novel picture of him as a, hypocrite who lived a double life. There was one very lively chapter entitled The Old Adam," which purported to repeat conversa- tions in which the deceased peer had told his private secretary all about his lively doings in the days prior to his" conversion." Astui more astounding chapter was entitled My Trip to Paris with Lord Umber- leigh," and this described, with pro- fuse wealth of piquant detail, how Lord Umberleigh, after devoting his mornings to Conferences on the Traite des blanches," and similar topics, unbent in the evenings, which he consecrated to the pursuit of pleasure in the gayest haiihts of the gayest of gay cities- Well do I remember," the author wrote, how my revered employer startled me with the suggestion that we should put on dominoes and attend the masked ball at the opera, and he over-ruled the objections which I felt it my duty to raise. Those only who knew the preacher and the philanthropist would never have recognised him in the merry man about town, who, etcetera, etcetera." It was astounding it was incredible. And yet-well the incredibility of it was a little mitigated by my knowledge of the philan- thropist's son and heir. I had always attri- buted his rapid propensities to reaction against the severe parental discipline but now it began to seem conceivable that heredity accounted for them. I found, too, that the same thought had occurrcd to others. "No doubt," people were saying, Jonathan Ball laid it on a bit thick, hut still-" What's bred in the bone, comes out in the flesh," said one. There's never smoke without fire," said another. Well, was my own reflection," I shall he curious to see Umberleigh, and hear what line he is taking." It was not long before I did see him, and found him purple in the face with rage. You've read what that rascal, Jonathan Ball, says about my father 1" he asked me. Fancy his giving (he old man away like that." You don't mean to say that you believe these stories ?" I inquired. :m my word I don't know what to lieve, he said. I never suspected anything of the sort. But this fellow was in a position to know, and,, after all, I must have inherited my own tastes from somewhere. My point is that, even if it was true, he'd no business to tell." Of course he hadn't," I replied. But. even if the statements were true, they would still, be libellous. Truth is not in itself an answer, to a charge of libel in a civil suit. Why didn't you take proceedings at once, and obtain an injunction 1" It appeared that Lord Umbcrleigh had al- ready thought of that. That was just what I wanted to do," he said. As soon as ever I heard of the matter, I jumped mto a cab and drove down to see my solicitor. I thought the old boy would have issued a writ the same afternoon, but he only shook his head, and looked solemn, and said it was an unusual case, and he'd like to take counsel's opinion before doing anything, so I told him to take it" and make haste about it." And what did counsel say ?" 1 asked. He wanted to know whether the book con- tained any libel on myself, or my mother, or any living member of the family. No,' I said,' there's nothing m the book about us that isn't flattering.' It is only the late Lord Umberleigh who is held up to contempt and ridicule ?' Yes,' I said. In that case,' he said, « I'm afraid you are helpless.' 'Why so I asked. Because, he said,' there is a com- paratively recent decision to the effect that there is no remedy at law for a libel against the I don't wanta remedy,' I said. 'What I want is to send somebody to prison. Then he tÜrmJd the matter over again in his mind, and a happy thought seemed to strike him. Civil proceedings,' he said, are impossible in such a case, but criminal proceedings might con- ceivably be taken, if it could be represented that the language used about the dead was of such a character as to be likely to lead to a breach of the peace on the part of the living.' Well, can't we go ahead on those lines,' Isug- gested. It would be a necessary preliminary,. üidJ, nuUH'M actually be committed. If, for example, the Dowager Larlv Umberleigh were to assault somebody with her umbrella—' Or, if I, for instance, were to assault somebody with a horse-whip—' said counsel, I didn't quite like to propose that, but since you pro- pose it yourself I will admit that it might prove an eHicadous And you left it at that ?" I asked. Yes. we left it at that. I felt a bit ner- vous about it, at first. There was the chance that these people had something up their sleeves— some letters or something of that sort." Do you think so? Surely they'd have in- corporated any letters they had in the book." No that would have given us the chance of proceeding for a breach of C'.opyright. As it is, they hold the letters ovems in terrorem. However I don't care about that. I'm going to risk it, and lay a horsewhip across some- body's shoulders." Across whosd shoulders I asked. Jon- athan Ball, like a prudent man. is dead. I take it you're not going to exhume and horse- whip a corpse." No. I'm not going to do that." ".And you can't very well horsewhip his widow." No. that isn't my intention either." And I don't exactly see how you can horsewhip a limited liability company." see about that," was Lord Umber- leigh's reply. Would you like to come down to the office with me and watch the opera- tion." It was rather an alluring prospect, and, in the event of a scrummage, my evidence might no doubt be useful. I allowed mvself. there- fore, to be persuaded. and we got into a cab and drove off, only to be faced by a certain difficulty which I had anticipated- The gentleman who received us professed en- tire ignorance of the whole affair. Unfortunately," he said, the head of that branch of the business is out of town. I can't express any opinion on the matter myself be- cause I haven't even read the book. Of coursej however, I will lose no time in conveying your representations to the proper quarter." Though Umberleigh thundered and threat- ened. that was all we could get out of him. "I won't fail to communicate with you as soon as ever I get my instructions," the suave man promised. "You'll see me back here in double quick time if you don't." said Umberleigh trucu- lently, but he was none the less obliged to sus- pend hostilities for a dav or two, and meanwhile Glimpses at the Great continued to boom. It was no longer a question merely of reviews and extracts. The half-penny papers, the society papers, and even the religious papers were all throwing open their columns to cor- respondence on the subject. Interviewers were sent out to call upon Lady Umber- leigh, who wept at her country seat. and Lord Umberleigh, who breathed threatenirgs in his London chambers. The practical effect of their reports, whether cynical or sympathetic, was always the same. Fresh readers were stirred to curiosity fresh orders for the book poured in from every quarter of the English-speakinir world and it might be presumed that the sale of each copy put at least five shillings into Jonathan Ball's widow's pocket. What do you suppose she's made out of it ?" Umberleigh asked me. Something like £10.000." I calculated, doing a small sum on paper. Then I'm hanged if I'll stand it any longer," he said. "I'm going down to that office again, and, if they don't put up a man to stand the racket, I'll choose one and go for him." Perhaps, taking one consideration with an- other, it was a reasonable thing to do. Only Umberleigh had made a mistake in receiving reijorters and confiding his intentions to them. Smithsons, Limited, were expecting him and the assault that is expected is always the most difficult kind of assault to deliver. As it happened I had an engagement which prevented me from accompanying my friend on his second expedition. He was too impatient either to wait, or to waste time in looking out for an alternative companion. I rather ex- pected to come upon some account of the pro- ceedings in the next morning's newspaper, but I did not. Instead I received a note, sent up by hand, asking if I would go round and see Lord Umberleigh in his chambers in Down-street. I went, and found him in bed, though not bearing any marks of violence that I could discern. Well t" I asked. Sit down," he said, and I'll tell you." He had duly paid his visit to the offices of Smithsons, Limited, and the climax of the ad- venture bad been ignoble, I was an • as?! to talk," he said. "They knew I was coming and they knew what I was coming for. Otherwise Wouldn't they Jet you in ?" Oh, yes, they let me in right enough, after keeping me kicking my heels in awaiting room and they began to play the same game on me as before. I mean that they put up some uily- tongued rascal, who said that he didn't know anything about the matter himself, but he had no doubt it was under consideration, and would be decided upon at the next meeting of the board of directors." And you said ?" I said I'd heard that story before and hadn't come there for the purpose of hearing it again. He said he was verv sorry. He'd no personal concern in the matter. He only spoke as the mouthpiece of—. But I inter- rupted him. /Look here,' I said. 'I don't want a mouthpiece. I want a whipping boy. If they've put you up to talk to me that means they've put you up to take the cow-hiding, and I'm going to give it you.' The devil you are; he said, and rang his electric bell. I saw tbcee was roo time to lose, so I let out at once, meaning to get two or three well home before the chuckers out arrived. I didn't even get one home, for he threw the chair at me, and then oh, murder Why, what happened then ?" Why, he'd got his bulldog under the tabic, though I hadn't noticed it—that's why he took it all so coolly. I heard the beast growl, and then I felt its teeth in the calf of my leg —oh, murder! He didn't call it off till the chuckers-out had come, a.nd then, you may guess, I was glad enough to be helped down- stairs, and allowed to go home quietly in a cab." It was a terrible anti-climax, and it really did not seem that there was any remedy, save of the kind that'the doctor might apply. Umber- leigh had assaulted the wrong man—Smith- sons, Limited had taken good care of that. The dog had not been set at him, but had rushed to its master's defence—which is al- ways considered a right and proper thing for dogs to do. No other view of the matter could conceivably be taken in either a county court or a police court. And meanwhile the reputation of the philanthropic Lord Um- berleigh continued to be aspersed, and the son continued to be advised that he had no remedy at law. He took a second counsel's opinion on the chance that the first counsel's opinion might have been wrong, but was only pelted with legal maxims.. Actio personalis cum persona moritur," said counsel. That disposes of your civil remedy. As for your criminal remedy I can only call your attention to Sir James Fitz- James Stephen's comment in his Digest of the Criminal Lnw on the case of R. v. Ensor, tried before him at Cardiff.. I says, that an actual attempt to injure, 01' to provoke the sons was essential to the offence, and that a mere tendency to provoke, or con- structive intention inferred from the fact that the libel was calculated to hurt the feelings of any surviving relatives was not enough." That was clear—nothing could be clearer. One could condole with Umberleigh, hut one could not help him. He had to grin and bear his troubles and the only satisfaction which he ever got was derived from an inci- dent which occurred aboót three months after- wards. It happened that I met him on the morning of its occurrence. Have you heard ?" he asked. The Gover- nor's momory is cleared, and Glimpses at the Great has been blown upon at last." What do you mean ?" I asked. Wrhv, it was a spoof—the most gigantic spoof since the days of what's-his-name Chatterton," I suggested," or Ossian, or Irelahd ?" Wliichever you like," he said. Just oblige me by reading this." Once more it was a copy of the Times that he handed me, and the announcement to which he pointed was, indeed, extraordinary. Among Jonathan Ball's effects, it appeared, there had been an certain sealed envelope which his will directed should not be opened until nine months after the publication of his memoirs. The prescribed term having now elapsed, the document had been communicated to the Press. It ran as follows :— I desire to offer my posthumous, but sin- cere and humble, apologies to the family of myrespectedaud beloved employer, Baron Umberleigh, for the aspersions thrown upon his memory by my Reminsicences. Tn none of the calumnious allegations which I have made concerning him is there a single word of truth. He actually was what he appeared to the world to be—a man of the utmost purity, as well as the utmost probity of life. In particular, all my anec- dotes of his proeeedipgs in Paris are bare- faced and unfounded fabrications. My only excuse for fabricating them is that, as the result of unfortunate speculations, I was reduced to poverty. I could not endure the thought that my beloved wife should be left destitute at my death. I knew that mv reminiscences, if truly and faithfully writ- ten, would have no interest for anyone but it seemed to me that a Jibelon Lord Um- berleigh might stand between my widow and the workhouse. Having to choose between two evil courses, I choose the course which seemed to me the less evil of the two. In order that the harm done to Lord Umber- leigh's reputation may be no more than tem- porary, I desire that this confession shall be I published, and I would fain VJelieve that his lordship than whom there never lived any more kind hearted man. understanding the extremity of my temptation, would not have J too severely. Jbr yielding toj i- -¡¡.; This admission is the only amends whiha I am able to offer for the wrong which I have made up my mind to do. Jonathan Ball. It's a relief," said Lord Umberleigh, when I landerl tli(- Y)aper back to hirn. It's no end of a relief. I assure you Jonathan Ball had really began to impose npon me, and I waa more than half afraid that there w&s a good deal in his stories after all." Has Mrs Bail apologised ?" I asked. In the most fulsome manner. I'm only wondering whether she means to return the guineas to the defrauded public, and I didn't like to ask her that."
-----WALKED INTO THE CANAL,-
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WALKED INTO THE CANAL, TIRPHIL MAN'S PLIGHT AT CARDIFF. About 5 o'clock on Saturday morning soma men were proceeding to work along Mill-lane, Cardiff, when they were attracted by loud cries from the canal. Looking over the wall, they failed to see any signs of a human being, but, the shouting being renewed, they made their way to the cana.l bank. Here, by the aid of a cyclist's lamp, they saw on the opposite sidenf the canal, under the Haves Bridge, a man cling- to the wall. The man began to shout that ho was sinking, and that he could not last much longer. On telling him to hold on to the wall, the workmen rushed into the street shouting for the police. Fireman Lawrence Newman, who was on duty at the scene of Friday night's fire in Mill-lane, lent the men a life-line- Rush- ing hack with this to the canal bank, the men found it was not long enough to reach the maji in the water, but after tying a couple of mufflers and the rope together, they succeeded in reaching him, and he was eventually hauled out. He gave the name of Thomas Buxton, Adam-street, Tirphil. He was under the influ- ence of drink, and could give no explanation as to how he got into the water. He had spent the day in Cardiff with a companion named William Joseph, of Ciydach Vale, and failing to get lodgings for the night, they went to sleep under the bridge. Waking in the early morning, and not realising where he was* Buxton must have walked into the canal.
---RHYMNEY COTTAGE HOSPITAL
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RHYMNEY COTTAGE HOSPITAL Settlement of a Vexed Question. A public meeting was held on Saturday- evening at the Victoria Hall, Rhymney, to consider the future management of the Cottage • Hospital. Mr Daniel Jones, chairman of the Rhymney Doctors' Fund, presided, and remarked that the hosptal at present was closed. The secretary of the doctors' fund had received a letter from the trustees of the hospital stating that the institution was closed and would remain closed until the appoint- ment of matron by the Hospital Committee. It was explained that several joint meetings of the Hospital Committee and the Doctors' Com- mittee had been held and had made certain, recommendations. Mr Evan Pugh, secretary to the doctors' fund, said the Joint Committee recommended that in future the hospital and the doctors' fund be under the control of one committee. Mr William Lavender said they had been trying for over 12 months to settle- the hospital question, and he thought the recommendation a very wise one. He moved that the Doctors' Committee manage both the hospital and the doctors' fund. This was- seconded and carried unanimously. It was decided that the hospital rules be revised ami submitted to a public meeting for approval.
HOSPITAL INMATES ALARMED,
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HOSPITAL INMATES ALARMED, Startling Sequel to a Fire. A timber stores and joinery manufactory in Sheffield, overlooked by Jessop s Hospital for Women, caught fire on Saturday, and fanned by a breeze, were quickly beyond the powers of the Fire Brigade. The owner, named Holmes, was well insured, but the loss will amount to several thousands of pounds. Two horses were literally roasted. The hospital patients were greatly alarmed, as dense showers of sparks and pieces of charred timber flew past the", windows of the dormitories. The establish- ment is surrounded by dwellings, the occupants of which as speedily as possible removed tbeiy children and valuables to the houses of neigh- bours: Another timber yard owned by Messrs Oxley, adjoining that destroyed, was saved.- through the promptness of the firemen. Later in the day Holmes, the proprietor o £ > the establishment, was arrested, charged with forgery. It has transpired that the insurance" was only effected a couple of days ago.
TREVECCA COLLEGE.
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TREVECCA COLLEGE. Examination Results. The preliminary examination of the CaSdn- istic Methodists as a test for students entering upon the secondary course of study at Trev ecca. College was held last week at LJandilo, R< v. Sydney O. Morgan, B.A-, T'D., 'Hoylake, araai Mr Edgar Jones, M.A., being the examiners. The following candidates satisfied the examiners :-Evan A. Jores, Na.ntymoel r John 0. Jones, Ferndale; Edgar Badhantt. Mountain Ash E. Aeron Davies, New Inn; Thomas Probert, Rhymney T. Rees Jones, Penmorfa D. R. Beynon, Llanelly Tbomllll T. Thomas, Abersychan. Passed in subjects taken, being exempted from taking all, having passed the matriculation examination David Davies, Pumsaint; Arthur Edmunds# Aberkenfig.
AMATEUR TAR-B0ILIN6.
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AMATEUR TAR-B0ILIN6. Thatched House Takes Fire. A fire broke out on Saturday afternoon at the house of Mr Davies, coal merchant, of the Soer, a village situated on the side of the Garth, near Efail Isaf. Davies had put a bucket of tar on the fire in order to tar his cart, when the bottom of the bucket came off and the whole of the contents went into the fire. The chimney caught fire, and the flames ignited the beams of the roof and then the thatch. Assistance was summoned, and the thatch was ripped off to prevent the whole house being involved. As it was the back rooms were seriously damaged.
GLOUCESTER FESTIVAL.
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GLOUCESTER FESTIVAL. The Gloucester Festival ended on Friday morning with a performance, according to custom, of The Messiah." The attendance was a very large one. and the festival has been more successful than the last one, held in 1904. The total attendances, including The Messiah performance on Friday, numbered 12,006 for the three days, as against 10,503 for the three similar days in 1904. The largest audience was on Thursday evening, in the cathedral, when Mischa Elman played, the number present being ,922, The largest at- tendance in 1904 was 2,698. Elijah and The Kingdom drew practically the same number of people, 2,932 and 2,288 for the respec- tive performances, and the secular concert in the Shire Hall had an increase of 140 over that given in 1904.
FAMOUS FLAUTIST DEAD.
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FAMOUS FLAUTIST DEAD. The death took place at Leicester on Satur- day of Mr Henry Nicholson, one of the most eminent flautists of his time, in his 83rd year. The late Mr Nicholson took part in the firslb porformance of Elijah," under Mendelssohn. at the Birmingham Festival, and was a mem- ber of the orchestra of the Handel Festival on many occasions. He was a personal friend of the late Sims Reeves, Mr Charles Santley, Sir Henry Irving, and Mr Toole. He conducted^ the late Duke of Rutland's private orchestra,
PRESSMEN AT CHURCH.
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PRESSMEN AT CHURCH. Preachers Improve the Occasion, The annual conference of the Institute of Journalists opens to-day at Scarborough, tha. proceedings extending over the week. A large number of members and lady friends arrived on Saturday, when an at home was given at the headquarters, the president (Sir Fredk Wilson) being present. On Sunday seats reserved at several churches, the preachert making special reference to the occasion ana to the value of the Press.
NEWPORT MAN'S SAVINGS SEIZED.
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NEWPORT MAN'S SAVINGS SEIZED. At 'Newport County Police Court on Saturtiaj Mr J. H. Griffiths, warrant officer to the New- port Union, made an application for an orcte. to seize the moneys of John Thomas Whiting* North-street, Newport, in the Post Office Sav- ings Bank, towards the expenses of his main- tenance at the Caerleon Lunatic Asylum. Mt Griffiths said that Whiting was removed to the Asylum in May, 1906. He had since cost the guardians JE44 14s 10d. His brother had1ús bank book. Mr E. T. Powis, of the General Post 01Bee. said that £5 had been withdrawn by a person purporting to be the depositor. He understood that Ernest Whiting had withdrawn money. The Clerk He personated his brother ? Witness: That is so. He told Mr Ithet Thomas, clerk to the guardians, that he hadt his brother's authority for doing so. The Clerk: We have nothing to do with thafc, The Magistrates made an order that the £ 25 left in the Post Office be handed over to the guardians.
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A sad drowning fatality occurred on Saffear* day evening in the Glamorgan Canal, be Cilfynydd and Abercynon, the victim being < lad, Stuart Bowley (9), of Glancynon-terrace^ Abercynon. The deceased was on his way to. visit an aunt at Cilfynydd, and was walking along the canal bank, when he-slippedinto tbtt water. Two men, who were a long dis away, noticed the deceased struggling in thf water, and hurried to the spot, only toting that Bowley had disappeared The Cilfynydd police were notified, and Sergeant Hopkins procured some grappling irons and recovered the body. The body was conveyed to tbr deceased's homely BOB. r*