Cymro a'r Celt Llundain

A POPULAR WELSH HERBALIST. The above is a portrait of Mr. Teague, the well-known Welsh Herbalist, addressing the people in South Wales on the medicinal value of herbs. Mr. Teague's mother, a Welsh lady, was celebrated for her herbal preparations. Mr. Teague's herbal remedies are sold all over the world.

Mr. W. Pritchard Morgan, of London, ex-M.P., has presented the Merthyr Corpora- tion with a pair of beautiful Egyptian geese. They will be placed in Cyfarthfa Park. On Palm Sunday thousands of people flocked to the cemeteries in South Wales to see the graves, which were beautifully decorated with wreaths and flowers. There was a particularly gorgeous display at Cardiff Cemetery-the largest and most picturesque burial ground in the Principality. Mr. T. J. Thomas, B Sc. (Sarnicol), Aber- tillery, the possessor of a bardic chair, lectured on Omar Khayyam before the mem- bers of the Penuel, Ebbw Vale, Literary and Debating Society the other evening. The lecture was highly appreciated by a large audience. Sarnicol said that in his poems Omar Khayyam made harmony out of discord he converted sadness into music, and he sang his own melancholy into the song to give pleasure to himself and to others. He taught that God did not make the world for man to despise. He did not plant the flowers, and man to have no pleasure out of them. The nightingale was not made to sing, without a meaning to its song. His philosophy was that the past could not be recalled there might be no to-morrow, so let them enjoy the present. He believed, however, that there was some great power ruling behind the universe, although he seemed to move like some phantom figure whose destiny controlled man." The Mid-Glamorgan Liberals are showing a commendable spirit of Welsh independence. Why should the Master of Elibank, or any- body else in official London Liberal circles, dictate to Welsh Liberals as to whether they should oppose the Labour candidate or not ? The sensation of last Saturday's football was the defeat of Neath by the London Welsh. Up to Saturday no Welsh team had beaten the Castellnedd men. But the Lon- don Cymry managed to accomplish it, and by no mere fluke either In fact, the critics are united in their opinion as to the London Welsh superiority. There is a total Conservative majority on the Breconshire County Council of 17, the position being as follows :—Conservatives, 41; Progressives, 24 Conservative majority, 17. Were it not for the mining towns of Brynmawr and Beaufort, which are included in the county, Breconshire would return a Conservative M.P. The Archdruid Dyfed delivered a particu- larly inspiring lecture at Ebenezer, Rhymney, the other evening. His subject was The Poets and Poetry of Wales." No one can speak more learnedly and eloquently on this subject than the Archdruid. When Dr. Monro Gibson, of London, the eminent Nonconformist divine, was in New- port the other day he visited the ancient city of Caerleon. Mr. J. Kyrle Fletcher, the well-known historian, accompanied him. Dr. Gibson was keenly interested in this wonder- ful old place, and expressed his intention to revisit it in the autumn. The fruits of a general strike amongst the colliers of South Wales are destitution, despair, and untold misery. The gaunt spectre is looming near, and there are thousands of anxious hearts in South Wales this week. In his Impressions of India," Mr. J. Keir Hardie, M.P. for Merthyr, has a refer- ence to what may be called India's National Song. It was composed some 30 years ago by a Bengali poet. The tune, as Mr. Keir Hardie heard it, was a weird, wailing chant, with nothing, so far as he could discover, of a revolutionary nature about it." As many CELT readers may like to read the lines we reproduce them here. Perhaps one of our readers will attempt a Welsh translation. My Motherland I sing, Her splendid streams, her glorious trees. The zephyr from the far-off Vindyan heights, Her fields of waving corn, The rapturous radiance of her moonlit nights, The trees in flower that flame afar, The smiling days that sweetly vocal are, The happy, blessed Motherland Her will by seventy million throats extolled, Her power twice seventy million arms uphold Her strength let no man scorn. Of splendid streams, of glorious trees, My Motherland I sing, The stainless charms that e'er endure, And verdant banks and wholesome breeze, That with her praises ring. Spring is really with us. We have been having some sunny weather lately, and the flower beds are gay with daffodils and snow- drops. Eileen Carfrae has written a very pretty poem on snowdrops :— Dainty, fragile, fairy bells, Growing sweet in nooks and dells Darling of the early spring, Witching, bonny, graceful thing. Stay with us awhile, we pray, Teach us lessons day by day Many things we'd learn from thee In thy spotless purity. Tell us, little blossom fair, Whisper softly on the air Would you, had you but the power, Choose to be a summer flower ? 'Mid the wind's low mournful sigh, Clearly comes the brave reply- No, I'm well content to be In the place God meant for me."