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--CHAPTER. xrv. j
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CHAPTER. xrv. j | Mrs Dancroft's Arrival. f. Tlio morning of the day on which the Dan- £ srofts were to arrive th .re was a, sense of ex- v citoftit nt and unusual movement at Hunston | Manor. ft Christine had made all possible arrange- meats for the comfort of those who were ing but Mrs Daneroft was quickly demon- f strati ng tliat no matter what was being done for her uuftfit, .nothing would be right except ;• \h»x which she* commanded hfc! sell'. fi She sent three telegrams in the course of the morning cliangiiig the hour of her arrival, and when finally she "fixed un a train it was her 5 decree that both a carriage and a motor car F should be in waiting at the station. Immediately after her father's death Chris. fc tine had had his bedroom closed. She had re- g' solved no our should ever use it whilst she (/ at least was thereto prevent this. It was by no means the largest room in the house, and it was very simply furnished. In going through the house with her house- keeper, Christine had allotted the most impoi— bant of th" guest chambers for Mrs Dancroft's ■if use. The window commanded a most magnij | Qceni view over the country, thc room. waA j?. most beautifully, furnished; it had a bondoir lttached, and was m every sense of the word a delightfui and luxurious apartment. i: Miss Daccrott would be close to her mother m another beautiful room. But somehow as | Christine paced to and fro in the hall, waiting her strange visitors to arrive, she felt | wearily and nervously that she must be pre- jjj> pared to have ail her plana upset. !•; And sure enough, Mrs Daneroft had scarcely if- Hlighted from the carriage, and supported on k her son's arm, had barely entered the halt be- C fore she began to show of what metal she was L made. "j Perhaps in the long ago, in thtwe days about f which James Daneroft had spoken with so k much pathos, when speaking of the past to }; Christine, there had been something soft and (k,. gentle in this woman's nature, but now the-e r peemed to be nothing but bitterness, cruelty, V and relentless hate. «■ Christine had advanced with her hand ex- tended, but the old woman put her on one side. k She stood and looked about her,trembling with sxeitement and with exultation. She leaned on ? a. stick, and slipped her arm away from her ton's supporting hold. ,S yo so—" she said, this was one of his places Very fine. Very fine, indeed—quite palace. Oh, yes, the best wasn't too good S. for our dear Henry Fielding One sees that at 7 i glance Her daughter, who bad foHowed in the motor-car, and now entered, gave an impatient jt. sigh, and shrugged her shoulders, jf 1 should like to go to my room," she said to Christine. i: Though she spoke without her mother's fe bitterness, she yet ma naged to put a great deal *•>. that was disagreeable into the tone of her I voice. It was her brother who answered her. You can wait a. minute or two, I suppose," E s he said sharply. 7 He had winced as he had seen his mother -S push aside Christine's outstretched hand. Just for an instant he had felt impelled to stretch out his own, but the girl had drawn back Instantly with a shiver, and biting his lip savagely, he made no effort to give expression to the sympathy th;:t he felt. There was something witch-like about Mrs Bancroft as she stood in her black shabby :tothes leaning heavily on her stick and darting her piercing eves from side to side. She mut. tered to herself frequently as she took this first survev of what was to be her home, then suddenly she stood erect, and pointed with her stick at the portrait of Henry Fielding over the mantelpiece. James," she said, you will see that that thing is taken a.way. Do you suppose that I am going to live looking up at that creature every dav oÏrn-v life ■ And Dan croft answered the old woman almost roughly. "Come," he said, that is enough; you are tired, you had best go upstairs." Then he addressed Christine for the first time. Will you let a servant come and show my mother to h rjf iBiir a* 'iV .1^ ».ajd-, Christine was trembling in every limb* and — whjfce as a ghost. I—1 take Mrs Daneroft upstairs my- peit'„" she said, and turning she made to go up the stairs. Anne Daneroft at once moved forward to fol- low her, but the old woman stili stood where she was. That. picture has got to go," she said, doggedly. There'll be someone in big frarn? house, I suppose, that can take it down, want to see it done now, at once." "f But her son answered her again in that harsh manner. There is a time for everything, mother," he said," you can't begin by upsetting the house the moment, you walk into it. Come, you are not good at walking upstairs, 111 help I you." t Christine had purposely arranged that the J servants should be dispersed about the house J when the Dancrofts arrived, but as they pro- gressed up the stairs they met more than one maid who was evidently inspired by curiosity. Although she did not express it in open words it was evident that Anne Dancroft found her new abode more charming even than she had imagined, The room she was to occupy was the one which Mrs Dudworth had generally used when she was at Hunston. and the girl's eye« gleamed ivith satisfaction ,as she passed into this room And glanced about her. She was keen enough to appreciate the extraordinary change in their fortunes, for she had grown heartily sick of poverty, although she had been too young to realise the misery of her father's death. She even condescended to thank Christine for escorting her upstairs, but she did it with I very little grace. I Thanks I can get along aU right now," I she said, and then as Christine was passing I quickly out of the room, she added I sup- I pose there's someone to wait on me. I didn't I have time to get a maid in town." I Christine re-assured her on this point, and as I she went out, leaving Miss Dancroft alone, she I closed the door, and pausing a moment, put I her hand to her head. I The nervous tension was horrible, the feeling I which these people had brought into her home I (hitherto so beautiful in xits tranquility and I its tender memories) frightened her. She felt I at this moment as if she could not possibly I endure all that she would have to go through. I One of it maids came in search oi her. It I appeared that Mrs Dancroft having finally ■ reached the room set apart for her, had, of I course, refused to occupy it until at least she H had seen the other rooms. Consequently a ■ procession was made all over the house, and I every room shown, even Christine's own, which ■ had really been the girl's apartment ever since ■ she had been a baby. and was, perhaps, the ■ most modest in the house. ■ James Dancroft had gone downstairs to ■ the hall again. He felt angry, but he felt also ■ miserable with a new kind of misery, something ■ more heart-reaching than any whiich he had I experienced before. He had upon him a sense ■ of remorse, when he remembered that it was he ■ who had brought this suffering upon Christine ■ Fielding. ■ The old woman grunted, but srii very It tie ■ during the Slow progress from room to room, but when she went back again to the one pre- H pared for her, she said: I want to sleep where he slept. I want ■ to have the things that were hi." ■ And Christine looked her in the eyes just for an instant, and, answered coldly, even hardly ■ I am sorry, but my father's room is closed —closed by my orders, and no one shall ■ occupy thatrroom—aoone Then her composure gave way at last, and turning, she went quickly away. ■ There was, on the landing above, a.n old window--corner. whereas a child, she had been wont to play, and there she went now, and flung herself f ee downwards on the cushions, not to weep, for she had suffered too much for ■ the relief of tears, but just to pause awhile, to gather together her strength, to can up all her courage. She stayed there a long wh.le then she rose and went down the stairs. The hall was empty. Just for a, moment she could almost pretend to herself that all that which had just passed had been a dream, a horrible dream. Casson came to find her as she stood there, and he brought her some letters, H Will the dinner be at the usual hour, Miss ■ Christine ?" he asked he tried not to see- her white and troubled face. And Miss Fielding replied that she was not quite sure. Rut added—" I' will let you know ■ as soon' as I have spoken to 1\1ró< Daneroft. She may perhaps wish to dine in her own ■ room." When she was alone Christine glanced at her ■ letters. There was one from Margaret Dud- ■ worth, several from acquaintances, and one from Burnstone. She paused a moment before opening this latter, and then did so hurriedly. ■ Sir George would have been well content if ■ he could have seen the effect which his letter produced. The tears which had refused to now just a. ■ little while before came now. If he had written angrily it would have been different; but his studied simplicity and pathe- ■ tic desire to please seemed to rm so true that ■ the words, "I feel you needme," went straight ■ to her heart. H indeed and indeed she did need him, or H someone like him someone who would he pentic and helpful and tender with her' She H had r. Ar-ed at first tiie advent of his answer to her i.-tter, hut now that it had come it seemed H to her very sweet. His quiet refusal to be put H aside seemed to ( hristine eloquent of the love he h." d so often professed. H H Jongs to the oíd days, to the wonderful liap- pnfss which has gorln. It is so wonderful to H know that someone cares as h cares. I will H see him, I cannot tell him the truth, but I will let him understand that I prize his love, and that in a little while perhaps—perhaps She did not finish the sentence even in her thoughts, for the future stretched before her so doubtfully so darkly. Peggy's letter she would leave to read till ¡ late tha.t night; it would be a consolation, and she would need consolation-most surely. She was resting back on the couch with her eyes closed when James Daneroft came down the stairs slowly. His brows contracted as he looked at her, and noticed with what an effort she rose. have persuaded my mother," he said, abruptly, to remain ib the room which you have given her. There is a woman wt o has been accustomed to wait upon her, who knows her ways this woman will arrive to- night. She would have come with us, but she had to travel down from the north. I think," he said, curtly, that the c, ming of this woman will relieve you of a certain amount of bother. My mother Is not used to grand ser- vants and their ways." Christine stood by the fire. Spring as it was' the winds were cold, and the warmth of the tire was very pleasant. She said nothing, but he saw t,hat she was stronger, and he felt that though she might still need all his pity, she would rather suffer three-fold what she had to suffer than reatise this pity was offered to her. Something in her attitude roused his resent- ment. She was such a slim thing, so young, yet as she stood there coldly she seemed to have a strength which he himself might, have envied. She seemed, too, to stand apart from him, conspicuously superior. He shrugged his shoulders. Well," he said, I am off. I daresav it will he hard work at first, buc perhaps they will shake down sooner than I expect." Thpn Christine roused herself. You are going ?"he said. You are not going to stay here ?" There was open dismay in her intonation. f Stay I stay here ? It is all very well for my mother she is an old woman, and for my sister, she is a girl. What I've done I've done for them, please understand that, not for my- self. He moved towards the entrance door, and Christine followed him. Mr Dancroft," she said, I want to speak to you." Well ?" he turned. I wish to ask you if you had a letter from my-my father's—from the firm." He said, Yes," and an instant later added But I have nothing do do with these people I've got my own business, and I'm not quite ready you see to take charity." She Even Thanked Christine for Escorting J Her U pstairs. The way he said this word brought the colour rushing to tired, pale face. I think you are very unreasonable," she answered. There is no question of charity. The way is open to you to work, to share late in the day perhaps, but still to share. Work he laughed eneeringly. No office drudgery for me, thank you. 111 choose my own life, my own profession. When I want help I'll let you know." Oh siid Christine and the word escaped her almost like a cry, how terrible all this is-bow terrible She walked back to. the fire, and he stood and looked at her steadily then he said, and there was a curious inflection in his voice I told you the other night when I came here you ought to have some one to work with you in this. It isn't fair on you. It's too much for you- Christine swept round and faced him the tears were rolling down her cheeks. Everything could be made fair, Mr Dan- croft," she said everything, even the most sorrowful part, could be made to seem less terrble if-if only all of you would come half way." He frowned for a.n instant, then he smiled, a rather disagreeable smile. You are dealing with savages, you must remember that," he said. We have had none of the refining and beautifying influences which have surrounded you ever since you can re- member. As I told you the other day, yoti are not obliged to do what you are doing but if vouchoose to keep up the hypocrisy of your father's good name, well, you have to pay a big price, that's all He was gone before Christine could say any- thing more, even if she had wished to speak. As a matter of fact, bis last speech (given so roughly and so rudely), took away from her in- stantly that feeling of reliance, even of sym- pathy with which he had inspired her when she had last seen him in London. His ever ready sneer for her father's memory carried a full measure of hurtful bitterness. So," she eaid to herself, I have to meet this and bear withit single-handed. I thought perhaps he would have helped me, but I ought to have known better. He is every bit as cruel, v as hard, and as merciless as his mother Her hand closed oy-er George Burnstone's letter, and once again there ran through her a natural thrill as she felt herself grasp the truth that she was loved. She went to find her housekeeper and prepare for the coming of the woman who was to wait on Mrs Daneroft. In a sense she was relieved that there should be some one in close attend- ance on the terrible old woman. At the same time Christine prepared herself for the advent of another enemy. Before going to her room to dress for dinner she sought Anne Dancroft, desiring to know from the girl what her mother would wish to do that evening. Anne was in the midst of having her boxes unpacked. She had found time to spend a fair amount of the money which Christine had pro- vided, and all sorts of finery were heaped about her. Like Mrs Coniston, she was inclined to regard Christine's very simple attire with a certain amount of scorn. Certainly there was nothing about Miss Fielding's black garments to suggest that shq possessed such vast wealth, and Miss Daneroft had been quick to notice that Christine did not wear a single jewel. She was shrewd enough, however, to realise that though she herself was handsome in a way, there was something about Christine Fielding which gave her an attraction which she, Anne Dancroft, would probably never possess. This annoyed the young woman, and served to keep alive the sentiment of dislike which, according to her mother, was the proper feeling she should entertain for Henry Fielding's daughter. The truth bfcing that Ann. though she was selfish and grasping, and the illusions of youth had been knocked out of her long ago, was not really bad-natured She professed ignorance now as to what her mother wou!d wish to do, but condescended after awhile to go and find out. When she came back with the information that Mrs Dancroft was tired, and would remain in her room, Christine gave a great sigh of relief. She was destined, however, to have no lengthened spell of rest. As she and Anne sat at dinner later on, Miss Dancroft very smartly arrayed, and cautiously watching Christine at every turn to see how she manipulated the difficulties of various dishes, a message was sent down to say that Mrs D' eroft wanted to speak to Miss Fielding after dinner. You had better go and get it over," Miss Daneroft said, briskly. Mother's a rare one for keeping on. and if you didn't go to her she'd aa like as not come down." Christine's face had flushed, and now was very pale. She said nothing, however. Eating with her was a pretence, but Anne enjoy, d her dinner thoroughly, that is to say she would have enjoyed it if Casson and the two footmen had not been in the room. She managed very well, all things considered, except when she upset a glass of claret and she grew talkative when by and by the servants withdrew, and she and Christine were alone. It wM evident she had no intention of spend- ing her life in a quiet countrvfied fashion, evident too that she expected Miss Fielding to launch her info such society as there wasround and about Hunston. Though she was common, and her speech every now and then made Christine wince, there was something huniiii and natural about the girl; and unconsciously Christine fcand herself turning to the thought of making a friend of Anne, and so helping th e situation. The fact alone that Miss Dancroft never spoke Henry Fielding's name argued that she was free to a great extent from the resentful animus which ran like poison through the veins of her mothe and brother. hilst she was still chattering a second mes- came to her from Mrs Daucroft. Miss Fielding was to go to her at once." Casson gave the message wih all his usual deference. It hurt the servant to see the hur- ried way in which his young mistress rose from her seat. The maid who had brought him the message from Mrs Dancroft had exclaimed at the queer nature of the old iady. Seems queer like in her head, that she do," this girl said to Casson, sending for Miss Fielding just as if she were a bit of a school- girl. They're a funny lot, that's what I think they are. What do you think, Mr Casson Casso £ had b tked the girl, but in his heart he had agreed with her. They were a fanny lot! There was something ablut the coming of these people that he did not like, something which boded good for no one in Hunston. The day before he had con- gratulated himself when Sir George Burnstone had gone away in such a bad temper that Miss Christine's marrriage appeared to be a matter for the remote future but he told himself now that he would infinitely prefer a man like Sir George to rule at Hunston than the present arre-ngement. And the worst is these have coine.and who kmws when they'll go," Casson pondered to himself. There's a took in Miss Christine's eyes that makes me feci worse than I lelt even when the poor master died. I'd be right glad to see Mrs Dudworth down here, that I would It don't seem to me proper as Miss Christine shouldn't have someone to be with her now, someone as belongs to her, for it's pretty sure whatever has brought this party along, it ain't a reason to mean happiness to Miss Christine CHAPTER XV. Sir George Goes to Hunston. Three or four days later Sir George went down again to Hunston. His complacency was entirely restored. He had leceived several letters from Christine, in all of which the girl let him realise that she would work in with his will. The man had hardly expected so much submission. He had only seen Mrs Dudworth once. She had been summoned to Ireland, urgently called by her husband's sister, a woman to "horn she was dearly attached and who was s xiously ill. It was a great regret to Margaret Dud- worth (hat she could not be with Christine at this time. You know," she said to George Burnstone, "she is not alone at Hunston. There are some people with her now. I cannot quite make out whether they are connections of her father's or not, but evidently they have some claim on Christine, and I thini this is the business about which he wrote to you." It was not a pleasing matter to Sir George to be told that any connections of Henry Fielding had cropped up, for despite the great advan- tages of his marria e with Christine he had never lost sight of the fact that her father's beginning had been humble and mysterious, and his real status an inferior one. If poor relations are going to worry her," be* said, there is the more reason that some- one should take care of her." And in this sentiment Mrs Dudworth entirely agreed nevertheless she felt anxious, for though Christine had told her nothing of the truth, she felt i stinctively, or intuitively, that some great trouble had come into the girl's life, brought in all probability by those people who were now staying with her. As soon as t can leave Ireland," she mused. hI shall go down to Hunston myself. I don't think Christine would be willingly im- posed upon, but her attachment ,to her father was so extraordinary that it would open the way for unscrupulous people to trade upon such a sentiment." Christine had intended to meet Sir George at the station in the car herself but already she had been taught a lesson, that her movements were not her own to command. < Mrs Dancroft had expressed a wish to drive that afternoon, and further, had ordered Miss Fielding to accompany her. Therefore, when Sir George reached Hunston he found only Anne Dancroft, whose air of bein absolutely at home surprised him disagreeably. Neither was he attracted by Miss Dancroft's appear- ance. He found her appalling common. He did not waste much attention on her, however, but paced bo and fro in the hall wait- ing for Christine to return. Her absence roused all his old impatient annoyance Surely when she knew he was coming she should have been there to receive him When the carriage finally arrived it contained only Mrs Daneroft and it the footman who gave Sir George the message hurriedly. that Miss Fielding had got out at the gate as she preferred to walk through the grounds. Sir George was in a mood ripe for anger when he set forth to go and meet Christine, but as he saw her coming towards him his feelings were abruptly changed To say that be was startled by the difference in the girl would be to describe his .clings inadequtely. Her appearance gave him a Christine walked though she were weary in every limb. Her face in the broad black hat she wore looked thi i and colourless. She ad- va,uced some time without seeing him, then all at once she caught sight of him. and in that instant George Burnstone was well repaid for all the discomfort and vexation he had experi- enced. There was no mistaking the signifi- cance of the light which flashed into Christine's eyes or the colour which rushed into her cheeks. It was over again such a moment of submission of response as had come when he had spoken of his love that bygone night on the river and asked her to be his wiffe. She stretched out both her hands in invol- untary fashion to the man, and he, mo red at once by the simple pathos of the action, re her close to him, and murmuring her name tenderly, stooped and kissed her. At this very moment James Daneroft, whose visit was unexpected as far as Christine was concerned, coming along from the village in a swinging fashion, turned a corner and saw them together. Just for an instant Dancroft paused, and his face was livid, the next he went on his way and strode past, neither looking at them, or vouchsafing any greeting to Miss Fielding. The sound of udvancing steps had roused Christine from a brief spell of consoling sym- pathy am unting even to happiness, and as she looked round sharply and saw Daneroft, her face was hot with colour, and her heart hot with shame. It was not a sense of humiliation from modesty alone which held her, it was the sweeping back of that intolerable shame which sight of this other man signified. For the coming of Daneroft at such a moment carried, indeed, a weighty significance, it re- called her from what might have been to what really was. It confronted her suddenly with a new and a harder duty, the task of holding the happi- ness which seemed to her only possible through George Bumstone's love, and still remaining protector of the secret of her father's past! (To be Continued)
SUICIDE AT^rHE^AIVllNGTABLE
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SUICIDE AT^rHE^AIVllNGTABLE Buda Pest, Saturday.—The mystery sur- rounding the tragic death some time ago of Julius Kardos, the well-known Hungarian painter, who was said at the time to have shot himself in a hotel at Nice, has only just been cleared up. Herr Kardos, it appears, frequented the tables at Monte Carlo,and lost consistently and heavily. On the morning of the day of his death he found himself absolutely penniless, and the Casino authorities, following their custom when fearing the possibility of a scan- dal, offered him 1.000 francs to leave the place, He refused, however, and obtaining more money resumed play with the hope of winning back his losses. A Hungarian nobleman who was staying at Nice lent him 2,000 francs, and with this sum in his pocket he proceeded to the roulette table, seating himself between a French beauty and a young American woman, Herr Kardos began quietly enough, staking only small amounts, but losing time after time he became more and more agitated. Then his last piece went, and the broken man, taking a revolver from his pocket, placed the barrel in his mouth and fired. A terrible scene followed. The lifeless body of the suicide tell across the lap of the French- woman next him. who fainted, and thescreams of other women at the tables added to the con- fusion, Attendants quickly removed the body, and within half an hour play was being carried on at the same table as though nothing un- toward had happened. The irony of fate was well exemplified by an incident which occurred shortly faterwards. A wealthy gambler occupying the seat whence the dead man had made his bid for fortune won 500,000 francs in a single round.—Central
MY HUSBAND." 4-
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MY HUSBAND." 4 Harry Jackson White, 4&, a traveller, of Stockwell Green, was charged at Lambeth Poliee Court on Saturday with bigamously marrying Alice Maud Trinder while his wife was alive. On going into the witness-box Alice Maud Trinder stated that she went through the form of marrage with the prisoner on October 24th, 1894, at the registry office at Camberwell. He described himself as a. bachelor. She lived with him for a few days after the marriage and then left him in consequence of what she heard, but after the lapse of two years she lived with him again. Detective-Sergeant Hawkins stated that when he took White to the Brixton Police Station, Eliza White, whom, it was said, be had married in 1875, was called into the charge room where the prisoner was, and, producing a marriage certificate, exclaimed, That's my husband." Prisoner made no reply then, but after he was char ed he said, Well, that lady you brought before me used to be housekeeper to me during the time I was in business, and if there was anything on either side why wasn't this done I married Alice Maud Trinder 7" Mr Robinsdn asked that the defendant might be released until this morning on his own recognisances, to give him an opportunity of finding sureties, and Mr Francis agreed.
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Professor Ap Madoc, who visited Wales last summer, has been appointed a member of a board of five musical judges, who will adjudi- cate choral contests at the World's Fair Musical Festivals in America in July next.
When the Bell Rings.
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When the Bell Rings. By R. E. FRANCILLON, Author of li Something in the Wind," "No Conjuror," The Woman s Reason," &c., &c. T. And what happens—then ? There are so many bells, and they mean so many happenings. Is there anything between heaven an dearth that we do not associate with the voice of a bell, from tinkle to toll But, when this bell rings, what happens, what will happen, nay, oftentimes what has happened, nobody can try to tell. For it is sounded on a low rocky shore, when day or night is dark, and the south-west blows high. What had or had not happened last night, nobody in Caymouth knew. Signals of distress had been heard, and the beach had many a time been strewn with wreck after weather much less dark and wild. But when little Will Dixon took the short shore-cut to morning school, both air and sea were as calm in the sunshine as if all else had been a dream. And Will, not having yet reached his eleventh year, nor therefore outgrown all his wi-dom, was never wholly sure whether whether fancies were not facte, and facts not fancies. So it might be fact, after all, that his eyes were sud- denly caught by a glittering spot in the middie of a patch of sand, such as he had never noted' on a shore of which he believed himself to know all the common objects and all the un- common besides, from a limpet or a ship- wreck—both common—to a live mermaid a creature whom he was as convinced that he had seen once as that he was alive. He was in plenty of time for school. So he scrambled over the rib, of rock towards the thing, whatever it was, that continued to glitter with the same emphatic ostentation, however the angle of approach might change. The gleam gave SUI h an impression of life that when Will, with unwonted clumsiness, pinched a finger in extracting it from its crevices, he thought it had bitten him—which was hardly likely on the part of what proved to be a bit of crimson crystal, not so very bright when seen close, rather roughly set in a ring that might or might not be gold. It did not seem much of a prize for pinching finarers and barking shins. The only curious things about it were, first. that it was there, secondly, that Will who knew of every ring on every finger in Caymouth, had never seen it before. Perhaps it had slipped off a mermaid's in last night's storm. VV>11—anyhow, finding's keeping so he slipped it upon his own biggest finger and closed his fist to hold it safe, and at the very same moment a sudden gust clove through the waveless air like an arrow, and blew his cap to the edge of the sea. It was as if an imp had got into the cap. If it had only flown fairly out of reach from land there would have been little harm. But it was far too cunning for that. It would lie quite quiet till Will was within easy arm's length, and would then dart away on a gust seemingly of its own making, till it lodged somewhere that was either provokingly diffi- cult or temptingly easy to reach, only to play the same trick all over again. W ill was too great a little Briton to let himself be beaten by a cap, even with an imp inside. He chased and chased it till everything but the chase was chased out of his mind. And so it came to pass that when the bell ran for school, Will Dixon, for the first time in his life, was an absentee and when he crept into his place a good hour later, was ordered to hold out his hand for the cane. For the master piqued himself upon his scholarship, and the better the boy, the worse the fault," he some- what freely quoted as the cane swished down, and jarred on something harder than a boy's palm. What's that! A ring ?—a boy with a ring Take it off this instant." The master piqued himself upon his justice. The thing must certainly have been lost, even if it had been honestl found; and a rightful claimant, with the help of the crier's bell, would have a better chance of getting it back from careful custody that from such as Will's. So he slipped it into his waistcoat pocket for safe keeping, and was administering an unobstruc- ted swish, when in defiance of dynamics, of anatomy—in short, of every recognised rule of every branch of science, the cane swerved, and came down with so fierce a sting upon its winder's own left-hand knuckles as to make h'm roar out a Db self-cespectinjf pen knows how to spell, t II. At the date of this extraordinary behaviour oi Willy Dixon's cap and Dominie Price's cane, the most notable personage in Caymouth was David Morgan, owner of the second b'g- gest farm thereabout, a fleet 01 fishing boats. and half the houses in the town. That he had no nearer kinsiolk than his cousin Jack was, perhaps, his misfortune that, at six-and thirty, he was still a bachelor, must surely have been his fault, seeing that no sane maid or widow within marriageable distance could have been- so heartless or so headless as to say him nav. For neither in his person nor in his manners, nor in his morals* was there anything to set off against his wealth whilst his habit of grave silence had given him a reputation for the solid wsidom to which man or woman may trust his or her all without a shadow of fear. But appearances—their reputation Is so notorious as to make it a point of cleverness to doubt its being deserved. His bachelorhood was not his fault. It was all the fault of Willy Dixon s half-sister on their mother's side. Bell Reed. It was perverse of Bell in the extreme. As sole heiress of old Richard Reed, whose widow had married an unimportant Dixon, it was she who owned the bigger of the two biggest farms, and the other half, or more, of the houses in the town; marriage with David Morgan would have been a sort of state alliance, without any of the drawbacks commonly attendant upon such affairs. If he was without relations near enough to be worth mention, she also could have advertised herself as without incum- brances save for one little half-brother. The balance' of their ages, 14 years, is not consi- dered excessive when, as in their case, on the right side. He was a strong, steady, com- monly good-looking man she was an uncom- monly good-looking young woman, who did not know what illness meant. That he wanted her—or at anv rate her farm and her houses- she could not help knowing that she and Will wanted a counsellor and protector, and that there was nobody better fitted for the office than solid and respcctabl" David Morgan, she ought to have known- And perhaps, if only cousin Jack had been in his cousin David's shoes- A penny for your thoughts, Miss Bell came a mellow voice over the gaiden gate, with a laugh in it, that made the thought blush out without a fee. For it was handsome Jack Morgan himself—all Caymouth s spoilt child, who liked everybody, and liked everybody to like him, man, woman, and child, and got what he liked in that and Hl every other WaY ? who never did anything that he didn't like, and always everything that he did, and had, as everybody said, a heart of gold—surely the oddest way of meaning lig^ and warm, and free and open to all the world. So obvious wsus Bell's thought to Cousin Jack's quick eyes that much more than a penny might have been lost and won that bright summer morning among the ftowers,had it not been for that impish ring. For if Willy had not hunted the ring, he would not have lost his cap, if he had not lost his cap he would not have been late for school; if he had not been late for school he would not have been sentenced to the cane if he had not been sentenced to the cane he would not have been found creeping home in all the visible distress of fanciful and sensitive little boy, who has just seen the face of Injustice for the first time. And if that had not happene1 David Morgan would not have taken him in charge, gone out of his way to bring him home, and so reached Bell's garden gate just at the wrong time. Good mornihg, Miss Reed," he said, with- out anything like a. mÍJe, and throwing a nod to Cousin Jack, with something very like a frown. Here's a .ittle chap who's got into a scrape of some sort—I can't make head or tail of tt: but no doubt you will, and if it isn't very bad—well, he's had about enough of it, it seems to me." That was not the way to bring a martyr home, and Will wrested his still tingling fingers from no unsympathetic a friend's. Cousin Jack's whistle was worse it was as if his sym- pathy would be less with the sinner than with the sin. Was there such a thing as Justice left it the world after to-day ? There was Bell, of course—but then Bell was but a girl. I'm not a thief he appealed to the uni- verse at large. It was a mermaid's ring, and I'd have given it her back when I saw her again; and now it's in old Price's waistcoat, with his lozenges and his snuff, and—and Speak truth, my lad, and shame old Harry," said David. There's no such things as mermaids there never were. Weren't there—and aren't there, though?" said Cousin Jack. Much you know about it, CousinDkvid Why of moonlight nights they inst swam, sitting on their tails nnd combing their hair So they wear rings, do they ? And one of them's given her's to you 1 But take advice—don't go flirting with mermaids yet awhile. It's too risky you not eleven, and they as old as the hills-I should say as the sea—" Don't talk idle nonsense,/ said David. It's no laughing matter, it seems to me, that Miss Reed's brother has been called a thief. I can make out that much—and anyhow he is trying to get out of it by a lie A lie ? Will never lies cried Bell, with an eye-flash that would have scorched through any thinner hide than David's to the bone. "He wouldn't be my brother if he lied. If he says he got a ring from a mermaid, he did and if he did it seems as if Price was the thief, and not he." Very well," said David grimly, for he was gripped by a. strong suspicion that Bell's championship of the existence, of mermaids was rather on Jack's account than on Will's. It became of immense im110rtance to the world that t he whole case should be investi- gated through and through for the sake of everybody concerned and of justice all round —to Will's character for truth and honesty; to himself to prove himself right, and, there- fore, to Cousin Jack to prove him wrong to Bell hecause-well, because she was Bell even to the Mermaid, to whom it was mani- festly unjust that she should be thought to exist unless she really existed. Unaccus- tomed to such bewildering complications, the afternoon was well advanced before he had reached the deliberate conclusion that the best way of tackling a question was to put it to the only person who is most likely to know the answer—-who would seem in this case to be the present possessor of the ring. If, however, I David was slow to think, he was quick to act and he lost not a needless moment before startling the domine from the occupation of mending pens in the otherwise empty school- room with the unpreftveed question Mr Price, are there such things as mer- maids—yes or no 1" Dear me, Mr Morgan—what a question What do you say I don't want my own opinion—I've got that already. I want, yours." It was aA awkward predicament for one II whose whole position depended upon Cay- mouth's great man's goodwill. What was Mr Morgan's opinon of mermaids likely to be 1 A bold man would ha ve spun a penny—heads yes, tails no. A timid man would, hedge, and Mr Price was the timid man. A thumb and finger went into the waistcoat pocket where the ring was supposed to be hiding, but only a. pinch of snuff emerged. Well, sir—it's hard to give an off-hand yes or no to a controversial subject on which j entire libraries have been written, pro. and con. Of course, you know, the sireDs-" Of course I do t But I'm not asking about fog-horns That was what the old Grecians called mermaids—very stupid of them no doul t; but, there you arc. There aren't any ichthyosauri now, but nobody can say there usedn't to be and whatever has been may be again And so you think that a yarn about that ring in your pocket having been dropped by an ichthyo-foghorn might be true ?" Oh that ring My dear sir, the only horn that ever came off was Old Nick's very own —say a Nickthyofoghornus, and that'll be < rue The first thing that happened was an unaccountable assault on me by my own cane. The second was a pinch of snuff down my throat and a cough lozenge up my nose. After that nothing /went right—everything—yes, sir, everything want wrong. Clock stopped dinner spoiled books playing hide-and-seek the pig loose in the garden but I haven't the heart to go through at the rale of a mis-for- tune and a half a minute, a whole day. I asseverate, sir, on my word of honour, that I hadn't a minute's piece of mind. sir, body or estate till half-an-hour ago—I don't say that ring did it; but J do say it wasn't done with- out the ring." David's investigation was certainly not get- ting on. Let's see the confounded thing," said he. It shan't craze me." N I had the pleasure of restoring it to the owner half-an-hour ago for which the heavens be praised To—not to a mermaid ?" To Mr Jack—Mr John Morgan. He'd dropped it on the beech, he said Then Mr John Morgan lied exclaimed David in his slowest, thunder, and strode away nor did he slacken his stride until the two black dogs named jealousy and anger had brought him to the place whence, of all places, he should-7 have stayed away that un. lucky day. If there's any truth to be got at about that ring. Miss Hell-1 beg pardon, Miss Reed— you'd best ask Cousin Ja—Mr John Morgan, I mean. If there's any mermaidens about W liich there are." I do believe that if Mr John Morgan told you two and three's ten you'd think the multiplication table wrong." So it may be. I never could see why it should be right, I'm sure. And why shouldn't I believe what Mr John Morgan says, if what he says is true ? There are mermaids not because he or Will or anybody else says it, but because I know. There she ex- claimed, holding up in triumph a finger on which something crimson shone. There 1 If there wasn 't a mermaid, how could Inhere be a. mermaid's rijne 1" DittVld riearly groaned Trtoutf. Truly Some' women's logic is terribly hard to follow— I almost as hard as some men's. III. < For an impecunious young gentleman to whom an heiress seems inclined, things have seldom gone better. If there was really any sort of imp or demon in the ring, as the Dominie, through his scholastic lore supported by personal experience had been led to be- lieve, Cousin Jack had found it of a friendly order. He could no more have afforded to buy a ring fit for a wealthy young woman's finger than he could have flown, yet, without one. how—according to the Caymouth code— could he become engaged ? But here was an obviously valuable ring to be got for nothing more than an inconsiderable lie, and which, as a unique marine curiosity could be given before engagement; which, indeed, could be made eqauivalent to a proposal without words. She could be wearin g his ring all Caymouth would know it; and his inconveni- ent Cousin David would know it too, and being the sort of man he was, would silently and sullenly quit the field. And so the ring began to work. David, con- scious of having got into Bell's bad books, and not withoutdeserving it, ceased to be her coun- sellor in practical affairs; and the more so as his place became more and more occupied by his quicker-witted and more enterprising cousin. Where I'm not wanted, there I don't go," was his maxim—as if where a man docs not eseem wanted were not mostly just where he ought to be. So he shut his heart tight up in a box of pride-wood, and screwed it down, and—when out of doors—put on an altogether uncharacteristic air of genial indifference with such complete success as to convince all Cay- mouth that there was something wrong with its biggest man. People that don't want to see me, I don't want to see them," was Bell's counter maxim and this severence of friends who ought to have heen, and miht have been, more than friends, must assuredly be imputed to the Ring. Meanwhile, a cectain awkwardness, it i." hard to say what or how, began to manifest in Bell's affairs. It began in little ways, as in the of Will and the schoolmaster in coins that seemed to jump into inaccessible chinks of their own nerverse accord in an ppidemic of bro1;:pn crockery; in changes of servants for the worse; in horses' broken knees in—but a catalogue of domestic troubles is incapable of an end. But presently they became more serious. The cattle took to dying off the hay was a. miserable failure tenements took to being left empty on her hands. And that could not pos. sibly have been the work of thel Ring." Nothing as yet had happened to Will, ex- cept an increase of a decrease of fancies. And the Ring was still sale and Bell in whom fancy did not lessen with the growth of time, had developed a sort of Fetish-wor- ship for the Ring. It had become her companion in misfortune and there is not,hin\t,ttSl.t, onfl can grapp'e to one'ssoul with hooks of Stronger steel. Cousin .Tack doubtless nlumed himself on her attachment for his gift. but for once, his knowledge of womankind nroved less pro- found than he believed. Whatever her feel- ings towards Cousin Jack—and since David's defection they had become somewhat obscure —they had nothing to do with her attachment to the Ring. She felt, deep down, that she could have parted with anything sooner than with its crimson fye. It was not alwayg on her finger. Indeed, some sort of instinct bade her recoil from wearing it when he was there to see. But it had none the less become a part of her davs and nights she was never without consciousness, or, still more intenselv deep down, sub-conscious of the Mermaid's Ring, Dear me said she one autumn evening, between firelicrht and candle-light—almost better love-light than the garden gfites in summer sunshine It seems to me that I ought to he verv luclcy some dav—if luck (lac" truly come in batches, good and ill. It seems always ill, these days." And oh, dear me—dear you I What has happened now?" asked Cousin .Jac", whose happv disposition was getting just a little frayed bv what was in the way of resembling a new edition of the book of Job. "Only a this ttrne. The old minor over the mantel that grandfather re- membered being there when he was a bov, took it into its stupid old head—face, I should ay- to tumble onto the hearthstone. They say that means ill-luck for seven years." Smashed ?" To powder." Well—better a smashed old looking-glass than a smashed old bank That'll mean bad luck to a few hundred people for a good bit longer than seven years. What bank ? Whv, do you mean to n," vou haven't heard the news—that the old county bank, that your great-grandfather would remember when he old as Will, is smashed to worse than powder ?" Dear mel, Another bit of ill-luck Shall I lose my share ? I mean my dividend, or what- ever it's called, that I get twice a year ? It's only a few pounds; but I want a few just • now." What I—you've got a share One." Great heaven One and there you sit and talk about broken glass as if that one didn't make you liable, you yourself, for every penny that the bank owes—for thousands, at 12wt: for hundreds of thousands for aught, anyhody know" Poor Ri ll could only sit in dumb amaze while he, instead of devoting himself as a true knight to his l ege lady in- her ruin, explained to her in the most matter of fact manner, a state of things whid, must make clear, even to her dazed intelligence that she was no longer worth I :o. the winning. Cousin Jack turned cold at the narrowness of his escape from having been by this time the husband of a beggar and the ice 0: the shudder froze his words. As ior her as the whole situation became more coldly clear, it was. as always, the little things that came to the surface—not the great things of ruin that are never realised until they come by those who do not know what they mean. Her eyes wan- dered round her comfortable parlour.. Will those dreadful creditors have a right to every- thing that I have To everything." Her mind flew upstairs, and into a certain little drawer, Even the ring—the mer- maid's ring V." If ever a woman gave a man a chance of show- ing his manhood, it was then. Oh, that ? Qf course they can." Even if it's not mine 9" Whose else should it be ?" "Isn't it a mermaid's ? Am I not cniy keeping it till-" Till it's claimed by the rightful owner ? But she'd have to bring her action and prove her case and lord knows what would be the status of a mermai-I in a court of law. But, Miss Reed Look there There was no need to look in order to be nearly blinded by the sudden blaze of crimson light that flooded the room. All Caymouth was startled by it too, and before thesteep e bells had begun to clash their alarm, all Caymouth knew that a fire had broken out in Miss Reed's rick-yard, and was crowding to see the show. It was Certainly no moment for standing on pride. David's place was in the van, and he ook it as of right, without a word. It was ikely to be a very bad business indeed. The south-wester was driving the roaring flames straight from the rick-yard to the house, of which the old timbers would provide a formid- able fuel. Happily, of loss of life there was little or no danger though what might, or must have happened, had the conflagration started a few hours later when the household would have been sleeping, was hideous to sur- mise. Well, there was no help for it the house itself was doomed. Bell, Will, Cousin Jack, and the maids were at the garden gate waiting for the end. David, all soaked, scorched, and blackened was slowly retreating towards them from the lost battle when he heard" a cry The Ring If Bell was a little crazed by this culmination of her mis or tunes by this last outward and visible sign of utter ruin what room is there for surprise ? David looked from her to Cousin .i-H ck. It was right and natural that her pi '.rhted husband should be at her side. It was i ight and natural that she should value his gift; he knew ell enough how he himself would have valued her least love-gift more than house and land. He measured her heart by his own, and, for once in his life, wasted no time in thinking. Come here, Will,t" said he. Where does your sister keep that ring.—you know which I mean ?" "In the top little drawer of the cabinet on her dressing table- And to the horrified amawment of all who were waiting for the final crash, David was seen to rush back to the house, and literally plunge into the blaze. Help him save him cried Bell, dis- tracted. She turned almost fiercely upon Cousin Jack. Can't you help ? Can't you save ?" Impossible," said Cousin Jack. It is to be trusted that he did not happen to remember that he was the doomed man's natural heir that he did not quite realise how gloriously the ring was playing into his lucky hands— a beggnrly marriage escaped; a noble in- heritance won—but—" Here is your ring, Miss Reed," said David, who had just staggered back across the lawn. Thanks to Will." She did not, even say Thank you." For all answer she threw it from her as far-nobody can tell how far, for whether it flew back into the fire, or whether into the sea—perhaps the Mermaids know. As if I'd keep a thing that nearly lost me your life she eried. Never, never, never, will I wear a ring again." IV. Here I think this story ends, or, at any rat, that anybody who cannot finish it for himself must be nearlv as dull of wit as David Morgan who was stupid enough to risk his life for th e whim of a woman whose heart he believed to be another man's, and to ask her to marry him as soon as she had lost, not only such a lover as Cousin Jack, but everything for which Cousin Jack had thought her worth the winning. As to Bell—well, if there is such a I thing as throwing away one's good luck, there must be such another thing as throwing away one's bad luck. too. When the Bell first rang it was for an unrecorded wreck that left no sign hut a ring for a child to find. When the ell rings now, it is for a wedding in Cay- oiith, in the course of which Beil Morgan ke Bell Reed's vow never to wear a ring again. ,g^The End.) ext vveek GRANGE, By Theo. Douglas.
-------------.... SOLICITOR-GENERAL.
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SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Banquettftd by the Bar. On Saturday evening at the Cafe Royal, Regent-street, London the members of the South and North Wales Circuits and former members of the Bar but not now in the law list, entertained at dinner Sir Samuel Evans, K.C., M.P., in honour of his recent appoint- ment as Solicitor-General. Mr B. Francis Wil- liams, K.C. (Recorder of Cardiff), presided, and there were also present Lord Halsbury (ex- Lord Chacellor), their Honours Judges Benson, I Bishop, Bryn Roberts, Wm. Evans, Moss, and Woodfall. South Wales Circuit members :—J. R. Atkin, K.C., R. Allen, Ivor Bowen, S. P. M. Bligh, the Hon. Herbert C. Bailey, H. O. C. Beasley, the Hon. Elidor Campbell, the Hon. Stephen Cole- ride, Du Cane, J. Redmond Davies, Pepyat Evans, A. Clement Edwards, M.P., J. C. Gaskell, C. H. Glascodine, W. O. Hodges, W. Tudor Howell. J. Francis Howell, the Hon. Fitzroy Hemphill, Elidyr B. Herbert, A. Tudor Isaac, Sir D. Brynmor Jones, K.C., M.P, W. Hugh Jones, Stanley Griffith Jones, J. R. Sydenham Jones, D. H. Kyd, S. Hill Kelly, J. Lloyd Morgan, K.C., M.P. (Recorder of Swan- sea), John Lloyd, Douglas Lewis, Trevor Lewis, A. C. Lawrence, D. Villiers Meager, G. Hay Morgan, S. P. J. Merlin, A. Parsons, L. Plews, L. M. Richards, A. Lincoln Reid, David Rhys, J, Shaw, J. A. Scott, J. Sankcy, E. Marley Sampson, Harold S. Stowe, W. Szlumper, Abel Thomas, K.C., M.P., D. Ueufer Thomas, the Viscount Tiver- ton, J. Bell White, R. E. L. Vaughan Williams, W. Llewelyn Williams, M.P., J. Davies Wil- liams, and T. Jeremiah Williams. North Wales Circuit members—J. Eldon Bankes, K.C., the Hon. R. C. Grosvenor, Mr Ellis Griffith, M.P., T. Artemus Jones, J. M. E. Lloyd, Honoratus Ubyd, K.C., Clement E. Lloyd, A. M. Latham, Frederick F. Lloyd, H. J. Marshall, R. M. Montgomery, R. P. Mytton, A. H- Mond, M.P., F Marshall, K.C., T. E. Morris, J. R. Orred, Edward Owen, W. Parkins, D. Pennant, J. Arthur Price, A. P. Roberts, E. Owen Roberts, H. L. Reade, R. Sutton, .1. A. Theobald, J. E. Vincent, C. G. Wilbraham, Graham Wilkins, J. H. Williams, E. H. Williamson, David Williams, D. C. Gale Jones-Parry, W. B. Yates. Former members of the circuits :—Lambert Bond, R. Beaumont, J. F. Buckley, Bertram Cox, F. E. Cuming, Sir Albert De Rutzen, J. H, Davies, M, O, Evans, Mansel Franklen, J. O. Herdman, Spencer Hankey, W. M. Har- rison, O. H. Jones, E. Northmorc Jones. C. R. James, C. J. Jackson, M. Knight, Arthur Lewis, T. W. Lewis, C. L. Lawrence, J. Nicholl, C. Priestley. F. C. Phillips, H. J. Prioe, R. Rowlands, W. R. Roberts, R. J. Rhys, E. S. Saurin, T. Terrell, R. Terrell, Allen Upward, J. Fisher, Sir Marchant Williams, A. J. Wil- liams. The only tohsts were The King" and The Guest of the Evening," proposed by the Chairman, the latter toast being suitably replied to by Sir Samuel T. Evans.
11—————————* PIT BOY TO MANAGER.
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11————————— PIT BOY TO MANAGER. Mr John Kane, undermanager at the Risca Collieries, has just been appointed manager of the National Collieries, Wattstown. Mr Kane's career affords a notable example of the value of intermediate and higher education offered to the sons of miners by the Glamorgan County Council. At an early age he was a colliery boy at Wattstown. He proceeded to the Forth County School, gained a County Council scholarship at the University College, Cardiff, and subsequently secured appointment at the Cwmamman Colliery, Aberdare as assistant surveyor. Whilst here, a Vhwny occurred in the surveyorship 01 the Wattstown Collieries, and he was appionted to fill the position, which he did with credit to himself and to the complete satisfaction of his com- pany. About two years ago he was appointed under manager at Risca, where he again dis- tinguished himself, and finally he returns as head manager to one of the most important collieries in the Rhondda where he commenced to work as a collier lad. Mr Kane has also conducted successful classes in mining, both for the Glamorgan and Monmouth County Councils.
-------A MULTITUDE OF SCHEMES.
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A MULTITUDE OF SCHEMES. Lianelly Harbour Improvement. At a meeting of Lianelly Chamber of Com- merce on Friday night, the President (Mr Da.n Williams, J.P. said the question of harbour improvement had been under consideration again, and the Council of he Chamber had unanimously resolved to call a special meeting to discuss Mr Cyril Jones's scheme. Mr B. R. Jones said the Harbour Trust had an ,tnpor- tant private consultation on the previous night with Mr Wheeler, of Boston, the expert called in to* advise on the schemes of the lateTom- manlier Jarrad and Mr Cyril Jones. Mr Wheeler had a opted several suggestions made by Mr Cyirl ones, and had added some of his own. Mr Wheeler recommended a scheme which was certainly cheaper than that sub- mitted by Mr Jores. The Trust were awaiting Mr Wheeler's formal report. Mr Wm. Bowen said they had received so many schemes with open arms, and then thrown them aide, that they should now seriously consider what was the best course to pursue. The ques'.ion of convening a special meeting was left to the Council of the Chamber.
THE CARMARTHEN SOCIETY.
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THE CARMARTHEN SOCIETY. Striking Progress and Results. The annual meeting of the Carmarthen Farr ier; Co-operative Society w&s held at Carmarthen Guildhall on Saturday under the presidency of Mr J- Lloyd Chomas, Tar.ylan, chairman of the Executive Committee. Of 600 members of the society at least three-quarters were in attendance. The Chairman commented on the remark- able success of the society. The balance in hand last December was £ 1,956 18s 4'd the profit on trading in the. six months ended last June was zC454 17s, and the following half- year X734 ]4s 4Ad, including profits of £ 91 2s 7d from the St. Clears branch in three months. The stock in hand at the end of 190G was valued at £ 1,452 110js 7d, as compared with £2/t68 3s at the end wf the following year. The purchases in 1907 auiounted to £ 2 ,322 128 lOd, and the sales in th*. same year to iE27,476 10s 8d. the balance profit on a year's trading up to December 31st being £1,192 lis 4id. The number of mem) ;r," d and the sales for four vears were as :—1904, 251, and sales £!j,S10 19s 19C6 V2, and £11,L5 19s Sd 1906, 356, £ 17,599 1; id 1907, 596, £ 27.476 10s 8d. Tha increase in the n mber of members av the end of 1907 over 19J6 was 240, while the in- crease of sales in the same period was £ 9,877 9s Id. The Chairman moved the adoption of the report. Mr D. H. Thomas, Starling Park, seconded. A couple of years ago he predicted they would eventually have a turnover of L50,000 a year, and he believed that, if they continued without friction his prophecy would be realised. This society would ultimately become one of tho leading societies in the kingdom. The report, WAS adopted. Mr David Hinds, Cwnin, was appointed chairman Mr J. E. Footman, Hafodwen, was re-elected hon. secretary and the whole executive were re-elected with two additional members for St. Clears district. The Hon. Mr Brassey, the chairman of the central society, who had travelled from Lon- don to take the place of Mr R. A. Yerburgh, president of the Agricultural Organisation Society, addressed the meeting. He said the effect of starting the Carmarthen Society was to bring down the prices of feeding stuff, &c.,by 10 per cent. Mr Brassey dwelt upon the fruita of co-operation in agriculture, and pointed out bow the central socifty could help in the acquisition of small holdings, being strong in his advocacy of the combination of srpaJJ societies, the formation of agricultural penny banks, and of co-operative insurance. He emphasised that so far the societies had not been in so advantageous a position as desired in regard to the purchase of agricultural implements. The federation of local societies was the only way of obtaining the terms which they needed. Mr Walter Williams, organiser for Wales, said Mr Brassey and Mr Yerhur-gh had spent more time, energy, and money on the move- ment than he could mention, the only reward being the pleasure of seeing the movement grow. Of the 33 societies registered, Carmar- then was by far the largest, its turnover being twice as large as the best distributive society in Ireland. Mr Henry Jones-Davies, of Glyneiddan, in moving a vote of thanks to Mr Brassev, hoped n that another branch would very soon be estab- lished at U-indilo, and that the society would shortly have a library at the Carmarthen stores. Mr David Hinds, Cwnin, seconded the motion, which was adopted. 31 r Brassey, in acknowledging the compli- ment, hoped the society would take shares in the Federation.
GLAMORGANSHIRE CHAMBER.
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GLAMORGANSHIRE CHAMBER. Cost of Road Maintenance. Mr Robert Forrest presided at a meeting of the Glamorganshire Chamber of Agriculture held at the offices, High-street, Cardiff, on Saturday afternoon. There was a large at- tendance, among those present being General Lee, General Tyler, Colonel Fisher, The Mackintosh of Mackintosh, Messrs Ultyd Nicholl, E. W. M. Corbett, C. Dudley Thomp- son, D. T. Alexander, Edward Ackers, Lips- combe, Margam, W. Emerson, O. H. Jones, Irvine, E. U. David, W. Meyler Thomas, D. Spencer. D. Jenkins, &c. Mr E. U, David submitted a resolution expressing the opinion that the weight allowed for the width of wheel of traction engines, motor lorries, &c,, was too heavy for the mac- adamised roads to stand, and urging the Central Chamber to take the matter up with the view to influencing the Local Government Board to have the existing laws altered. It was further pointed out that the increased cost of road maintenance should be borne largely by national taxation. The mover said the people who owned the heavy motors were very few, the number registered in Glamorgan being about 96. The average cost oi maintenance «*r.Trr cost was £ 164. As regards the LUiLd.-iti DLs. trict Council, the cost to them in 1900 was Lr),420, while av ven years later the figure wae £ 10,950. In five years the cost of county road maintenance had gone iy) 30 per cent. while in the case of Cowbridgc-:oad it had increased 50 per cent. In France the cost per mile was £51, and the roads were better kept. Mr Lipscombe, in seconding, said the roads were asked to do work for which they were never constructed, while the Chairman, in supporting the motion, said the damage done to the roads in their neighbourhood was immense. The engines were in some cases the ugliest he had ever seen. He was sorry to say the owners of them lived in the urban district, and they could not tax them. The damage to roads was increased by studs on the wheels and the weight of trailers attached to the motor engines. The resolution was adopted. With regard to the election of members to the Council, Mr R. Duncan proposed that in future a quarter of the Council should retire annually and be ineligible for election for 12 months. This would, he said, stimulate interest among the members. The motion was carried.
MERTHYR GUARDIANS.
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MERTHYR GUARDIANS. A Competition for Architects. The Rev. Father O'Reilly presided at a meeting of Merthyr Board of Guardians, held on Saturday. The Board decided to invite com- petition among the architects in the union for plans for a receiving home, forming part of the scheme of scattered homes, to be erected on land adjoining the cottage homes at Aber- dare. The Board adopted proposals sub- mitted by Mr Thomas Roderick, archi- tect, involving an outlay of £500, to put the wall between the road leading to the old infirmary and the recreation ground into a safe condition. The approval of the LocaJ Government Board was received for the expen liture of iC170 upon improvements to the Board room. A committee had selected four candidates for appointment as probationer nurses to appear before the Board, but Dr. Ernest Ward certi- fied that none was physically fit for the duties, and it was decided to re-advertise. Attention was called by the Chairman to the large ex- penditure upon gas for the Workhouse, it being stated that the cost now amounted to £100 per quarter. The Board decided to invite the Electric Lighting Company to give an esti- mate of the cost of lighting the Workhouse by electricity- Mrs M. T. Williams, in accordance with notice, introduced a discussion upon the Infant Life Protection Act, and moved 4 resolution in favour of the proposals of Mr Herbert Samuel, M.P. It was discovered that there was already a resolution to the same effect upon the books, and the matter was dropped.
HUNTING FATALITY.
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HUNTING FATALITY. A sad fatality occurred on Saturday during the run of the Household Brigade Hounds in Easthampstead Park, Wokingham. Among the followers was Mr Harry P. Peters, of Hare- field. Lynton, Devon. J Ubt after the start hia horse was seen to break away to the left, and the hunt went on to the check, but Mr Peters did not eppear. His friends, who then missed him, surmised that he had given up and mada his way to the railway station. On finding that this was not the case two of his friends (Mr Gerald Wellesbury and Mr Eustace Gil/bs, of the Bachelors' Club, London) instituted a search, and were horrified to find the dead body of Mr Peters lying under a small birch tree, with the brains dashed out. The horse deceased was riding was found about a mile away with severe scars on its head, and it is believed that the horse bolted with its ridci and collided with the tree. The body wa& removed to the Royal Forest Hotel, Bracknell* where an inquest will be held to-morrow morning.
PROVED AN ALIBI. ---...
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PROVED AN ALIBI. At Pontypool on Saturday Wm. Taylor anj Henry Taylor, colliery hauliers, of Garnlliffaeth, were charged with trespassing on February on land at Mamhilad, belonging to Mr J. C. Uan. bury, Pontypool 1, F k, in search of conies. Henry Taylor was also summoned for refusing to give his name and address. Thomas Messenger, an under-keeper, said that about mid-day he saw defendants and two other men in the Horseshoe Wood holding two dogs over a rabbit burrow. He spoke U the men and Henry Taylor refused to give his name and address. Witness afterwards seized 10 nets and a ferret belonging to the defendants Two witnesses—Thomas \Vatkins and Henrj Webb—said they saw the defendant Tayloi at Garndiff aeth "on the Sunday in question, and he could not possibly have been at Mamhilad at the time mentioned. The case ag^nst Henry Taylor was dis- missed, but the other defendant pleaded guilt, and was fined 10s.
RECTOR'S FREE BEER.
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RECTOR'S FREE BEER. The Rev. Charles Hutchinson, rector d, Rayne, near Braintree, has arranged a series oj smoking concerts for the entertainment of bit parishioners, at which beer and tobacco are provided free lor all men, and a popular musical programme is rendered. One of tht concerts was given in the church schoolrocn this week, and was attended by practically aj the men in the village.