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! Policeman Badly Used. .




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Council and Fusion Bills.…



. Bridgwater Police Chief.…

Cardiff Man's Arrest.


Newport Council. .





On the Brecon Border. .


On the Brecon Border. A VISIT TO OLD TRETOWER. (By J. KYRLE FLETCHER.) It was at Abergavenny, thatchaxming old town in the valley below the Sugar Loaf Mounta,in. that we boarded the road,motor, most noisy and convenient of vehicles, and away we went rambling thrpugh the narrow main street, then out by trim villas lying lack from the road in bright flower gardens, away towards the open country. On the left we passed the gates of Neville Court, the seat of the Marquis of Abcrgavenny,one of our veteran peers. The Old Lords of Burgavenny. He is the descendant of a long line of lords of Burgavenny, which includes the Baladuns, the first Norman lords, the de Breose, those cruel oppressors of the people. Next the Cantehipes, and the Hastings, who founded the Priory. Then the Beauchamps, and lastly the Nevilles. It is an interesting fact that Abergavenny was the only barony granted to the Normans, who overran Wales, and the title is still a feudal dignity belonging not to any particular family, but is the title by tenure of any lord of the Castle of Abergavenny. The road skirts the base of the Sugar Loaf Mountain, or rather the Llanwenarth Mountain, which is one of the lesser hills from which the Sugar Loaf rises. Llanwenarth Breast is a bold spur of the hill which juts out towards the Usk. The river runs through green meadows, and parks filled with fine timber. The next mansion we pass is Ty Mawr, once the home of Sir Dafydd Gam, Owen Glyndwr's arch enemy, which reminds us that we are bound forTretower, the house wherein Dafydd Gam's proud daughter ruled the wife of Sir Roger Vaughan. Dafydd Gam and his son-in-law died fighting for King Hal, of Monmouth, on the red fields of Agincourt, and these heroes will probably figure in the great Welsh pageant which is now in active preparation. Beyond Ty Mawr across the river rises the stately Blorenge Mountain, covered with green woods, and changing shape as we follow the winding road which leads us round the mountain. The scenery is magnificent, and makes one wonder that so few people visit the charming upper valley of the Usk. A briet halt in the little village of Llan- grwyney, where a tiny rivulet of purest water comes dashing down from the hills above, passing under a quaint bridge to join the Usk in the valley beyond. A few more turns of the wooded road and we pass the mound and the ruins of Crickhowell Castle. A ruined tower is all that is left of the fortress built by Turber- vill, the knight who came into Breconshire with Bernard Newmarch. At the fountain in the main street of CrickhoweU we le$.ve the motor and stroll idly down the long street to see the sights of the town. Crickhowell. We went down the bill to the riverside and saw the bridge with its long row of 12 strong arches, and under the arches the water rippled over the stones. It is a very lotus land, a place to go and dream away the hours and forget- yes, even forget the Budget and the thousand other things which make up life in our rushing 20th century time. Just above the bridge is the parish church, full of curious monuments of bygone lords and ladies of Crickhowell—of Pauncefoots and Herberts. Eglwya-y-Vaen. We were advised to climb the steep hill to see the great cave at Clydach, called Eglwys-y- Vaen, the stone church, a cave which extends far into the mountain, and in which the fol- lowers of Oldcastle, the Lollard, are believed to have met td worship in secret. The old people have many strange tales to tell of Eglwys-y-Vaen. One of them is of a farmer who sent his sheep dog into the cave to drive out some sheep,but the dog did not come out asrain. Next day a weary looking "sheep dog was seen driving some tilled sheep through the streets of Newport-on-Usk for they say the cave extends right down to ipear that place. Passing out of Crickhowell down the road to Tretower we passed Porth Mawr, once an interesting 15th century gatehouse leading to the old mansion of the Herberts, of Crick- howell, but the hands of the so-called restorer have been laid upon it so that to-day it looks bran new. On the right-hand side of the road a mile out of Crickhowell stands a tall mound close to the road crowned with sombre looking trees. There are many different theories as to the origin of. these mounds. Some antiquaries insist that they were Arx Speculatoria, Roman look-out stations, but the more probable theory is that they are post Roman 'dwellings of the British chiefs. One thing which lends force to this theory is that the mounds usually have a Welsh name. This one is called Llanfair, and a church once stood here, which was, of course, a British church dedicated to St. Mary. Tretower Court Tretower lies on the left of the road, a picturesque pile of buildings peeping out from the fruit trees of the orchard. The first thing which attract the eye is the massive round tower of Tretower Castle. This was originally a Norman square tower, altered a century later by having the round tower and high curtain wall. Inside the round tower there is some fine stone work. The carved chimney pieces are very handsome, and in the recesses of the windows are the bowers where the ladies once sat to work and chat. The castle was destroyed by Owen Glyndwr, but soon after in the early fourteenth century the court house was built close by. It is a good specimen of the period, with many quaint gables and charming old carved stone window frames. The court is built in a quadrangular court- yard, entered by a fortified gatehouse still in an excellent state of preservation. From the gatehouse to the court there is an allure, or walk, along the top of the wall, roofed in and lined with loop holes. The whole place is in a sin- gular state of preservation, and an hour spent here helps one to rebuild the past, to under- stand the age when the lord of Tretower was a petty king. Here is the rich banquet hall with carved roof, which once rang with the laughter of the men at arms who sat at the long tables. Adjoining the hall is my lord's private rooms, where he could withdraw from the noise, and could entertain some special guest. A Fine Old. House. On the north side of the house is an ancient rfc I carved balcony and the servants' quarters. must have been a fine house in its prime, With its fish ponds and-dovecots and rich This was the first home of the Lady Gwla^J^ the mother of the noble race of Vaugh of Breconshire. After the glorious death 0 Sir Roger Vaughan, her husband, at court, she married Sir Wm. ap Thomas, Blue Knight of Raglan, and so became til mother of all the Herberts. Tretower the beaten track, and so is very little knovvgl but the lover of the beautiful will find it place filled with a hundred charms. f Not far from Tretower there is anotber curious house, though not so old as Tre. It is a mansion built by an old and every room and passage is fitted like w* interior of a ship. We had not time to this curiosity, but heard from others of the quaintness of the house. It certainly seems, strange conceit to build the rooms of a counW mansion on the lipes of the cabin of a ship* • Close to this house there is a little vi which is built all up the steep hillside, so tb* looking at it from the main road it almost like a ladder or a flight of steps* regular were the houses built. The Table Mountain. Retracing our steps towards Crickhowell had time to note the curious outline of Table Mountain, which looks as level as tbØ' proverbial billiard table. The old people wJ1 the tale of a giant who once lived on these mountains. He wanted to play at bowls so be worked day and night till he had made tW mountain quite level, then he enjoyed W. game, and often during a thunderstorm y01* can still hear the giant rolling the great £ balls across the top of the mountain. Once more in the quiet town of the town without a railway, we rested and freshed ourselves, comparing notes on many another excursion taken in Wales, but we decided that for natural beauty the Usk Vail at Crickhowell will be hard to beat, evell South Wales, the land of beauty spots.

Welsh Division. __',_. r ."