Llandudno Advertiser and List of Visitors

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT, 1 A MESSAGE OF PEACE. BY L. E. COLYILE. [COPYRIGHT.] "The question is," said Nat Tenny, "How are we going to get across the blooming Teeke ?" The question is," added Bob Palmer, what are we likely to get the other side ?" "I've sung at th' Court this last five years," br,oke in a woman's voice, and I ain't going to let this Christmas go by, if I have to wade through the Teeke up to my neck." "There's half a sov. and a bit of a feed t'other side, ain't there Hannah ?" said someone. Hannah Bowman started on a lengthy explana- tion on the subject of her contempt for filthy lucre, and emphasised the fact of Christmas being Christmas, let others say what they like again' it," while her nine or ten companions, of whom three were choir boys, and two other women like herself, belonging to the Baptist Glee Union, splashed through the mud with a profound indif- ference. They had been carol singing round the little town of Hillsborough, for over two hours, and with the exception of Hannah, they thought it just as well to reserve their vocal strength for further efforts amongst the "gentry" outside. "Shall we be going to th' squire afterwards?" asked a chubby-cheeked choir boy. A loud guffaw met this remark. It was evi- dently considered a rich joke. Perhaps he'll ask us to stay and dine," said Nat Tenny, who had a reputation for sarcasm which he always endeavoured to live up to. P'raps he'll loose the dogs on us," suggested another UTchin. Anyhow," said Hannah Bowman, we'll go to the Court first, and sing to the widdy and her daughters." We've got to get across the Teieke first," said a. younger woman, and as at that moment they were at the top of the bank, below which ran the swollei-i stream, Hannah Bowman actually fore- went her indisputable right to the last word. When they got to the brink of the stream they found that it was not so bad as they had ex- pected, and Nat Tenny, taking off his boots, which he threw across to the other side, to-k th.e buxom Hannah into his arms, and started to wade across. "This is something like Christmas, this is," sighed Hannah. "As full of recollections as an egg is of meat." Nat put her down hurriedly on the other side, feeling rather embarrassed at having recalled by his gallantry the late lr. Bowman who, according to tradition, was never in a fit state, Christmas, or any other night, to carry himsplf. let alone his better half, across the merest puddle. The others followed in similar fashion, the two younger women protesting vociferously, before they would entrust themselves into the arms of the willing bearers. "Anyone else coming across before I put on my boots?" shouted Nat. when all the party were safely across, and had begun to climb up the opposite bank. To his surprise a tremulous voice came from the other side. Oh, if you don't mind, sir!" "Right you are," shouted the good-natured Nat, and he once again entered the stream. "Look sharp," he called. "It ain't exactly a Turkish bath for temperature." A delicate-looking girl. in a travel-worn black dress, stood waiting for him, and without further ado, he took her into his arms. "Moses!" he exclaimed. "If t'others had weighed no more than you it would have been kid's work." He put her down on the opposite bank, and started to put on his boots. Where have you come from, miss?" he asked. The rough Derbyshire mill-hand was not given to much politeness, but there was something about the slender girl that dragged the last word unconsciously from him. The moon had come out, and he could see the pale, tired face of a girl, probably not more than sixteen years old. While her hands we're white and delicate'y shaped, he noticed that her boots were only held together vith pieces of tape, and that she was very foot-sore. "From London," answered the girl. "Moses!" exclaimed Nat. "I was standing by the stile wondering how ever I should get across, when you all came down." "Walked from London?" "All the way." Nat indulged in an expressive whistle. "And I was afraid," continued the girl, "that I would have to spend the night on the wrong side of the stream." "Going this way?" he asked. She nodded. "Come along, then." They. started off in pur- suit of the ethers, who had gat some way ahead. Hannah's* ,-cice reached them as she held forth on the prospects that awaited them at the Court, and her reos1 lections of bygone years. "There was sherry wine, and 'am," they could hear her say. just every bit as good as a funeral, and my throat was that dry after 'Good King Weneelaus,' that I went nigh to shocking the 'quality,' I did, by taking that kindly to the wine." "Are you hungry?" asked Nat. "Yes. ve i- v," answered the girl, simply. "Going far?" he asked, and then some curious instinct made him feel ashamed of his curiosity, and he quickly added, "Better come along with us; we are sure to get something to' eat at the :Court." They walked on together for a bit in silence. "Can you sing?" asked Nat at length. I know one carol that my mother taught me; perhaps I will sing it to 3*0x1 later cm." Nat thought this sounded rather condescend- ing, but refrained from saying so. By that time the-; were almost up to the party, and two bright lightfr a little way ahead marked the lodges* of Tap ley Court. "Who have you got there, Nat?" asked Hannah. 'Another prima donna," he answered. "I thought there might be room for two in drf crowd." Go on," was Hannah's only reply to this eally of wit. The rest of the party were tco eager to take any notice of the new arrival, who joined quietly in the singing of the sweet old carols. They were admitted into the great hall, which was deco- rated in the good old-fashioned way with trolly and mistletoe, where the widow lady and her son and daughters sat round the open fire jrate After a while they were invited Into tlwi kitchen, where a substantial meal of cold beef, mince pies, wine and beer awaited them. It was nearly ten o'clock when once again they found themselves in the road, holding a hurried consultation as to. where next to "To. th' squire's, I say," said Bob Palmer. "It ain't natural to ignore'him altogether." Do you mind what he said last time?" said Hannah, warninglv. "As how if we didn't quit he'd have the garden hose turned on us, and if that didn't do he'd tell the keepers to loose the dogs." "Is it Squire Manton's ?" asked the girl whom Nat had introduced to the porty. Everyone turned and faced her with astonish- ment. And how do you come to know Squire Man- ton P" asked Hannah Bowman. "I don't," whispered the girl, covered with confusion. "What's yer name?" asked Hannah. "Irene," was the reply. The name struck Nat as being something ex- traordinary, demanding special comment from himself, so he gave vent to his favourite expres- sion, -INTOses!" Oh, indeed!" said Hannah. "Irene Mcses, is it, but how does our Nat come to know all about you ?" Hannah Bowman rarely waited for an answer; life was tco short, and there was so much to say. Concluding, however, by some chain of reason- ing, peculiarly her own, that the remarks of the girl had in some way solved the original prob- lem. she removed further doubt by saying, < "Well, then, to the squire's be ft." "Come along," said Nat, and they started tc walk along the muddy road in the direction of the hali. Are we all insured?" asked one of the girls amid a roar of laughter, but as the gates of the Hall were almost opposite these of Tapley urt, they soon subdued their voices, and imidly walked up the long avenue that led to the front of the house. The light from eight shaded candles, in magni- ficent silver candlesticks, fell upon a table, cleared of the dinner things with, the exception of a few silver dishes, holding olives, salted a monds, and the like, and a bottle resting in an old-fashicned basket, and glasses. Alone at the table sat Squire Man ton, while ■ behind his chair stood the butler, and a couple of other servants moved noiselessly a Lout the room. D- it Simpson. tell those men to go," The two servants referred to disappeared as though through trap doors. Had they ventured to anticipate tlic, wisliec, cf their irritable master by even a second, they would have been recalled in no gentle manner. Simpson, how many more bottles are there?" The squire held his glass up to the light, and looked into the ruby depths of his port wine. "I believe, sir,"answered Simpson. "I be- lieve there are only two bottles left." "T'would be a pity, Simpson, if I kept them for next Christmas, and never lived to drink them." God forbid, sir," respectfully muttered the butlei-, and then with unconscious irony he added, "perhaps I had better bring them up, sir." "Bring them both up, Simpson, bring them both up. God bless Sir Gregory who laid it down; we've nothing to touch it in the cellar. Bring them up, Simpson—they're the best com- pany for an old man." When the butler had left the room the squire got up from his chair, and taking up one of the silver candlesticks, he crossed over to the fire place. Above the mantelpiece was a full-sized por- trait of a young girl, and it was before this that the squire paused. It was a portrait of his only daughter. The little girl that had arrived the day her mother died, to keep the young squire's heart from breaking for nigh on twenty years, when she herself left her harsh but loving father, and turned that heart to stone. Eighteen years ago, to-day," he groaned as he held the candle above his drooping head. "And she left her father for that scamp —— It all came back to him as he stood before the painting. The open window through which the bird had flown, and through which the snow came drifting in, as though to cover up all traces of the flight. He saw the dinner table prepared for two as his mind went back to that dreadful night, when the cruel mockery of the singmo- of the waits, made him seek to banish sorrow with the treasures of his cellar. There were four dozen bottles then, now only two remained, and he was still all alone. He turned round as Simpson entered the room, and there was not a trace of emotion on his wrinkled face. Pour it out, Simpson," he said. Pour it out carefully. Ah!" His glass was raised to his lips1, when above the stillness of the night came a few notes from, a cornet, and then a number of lusty voices join- ing in the singing of the familiar hymn- While shepherds watched their flocks by night." The squire put down his glass and turned to Simpson. By he said, they've dared to come again." "I instructed the keepers," began the servant, apologetically. "Fools' muttered the squire. "You're an ools." Still the singing went on- Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind." How dare they make this ghastly noise in my grounds." He got up and went to the window. Open it, Simpson," he said. I'll give the scoundrels a lesson!" Simpson opened one of the French windows that faced the lawn, and the squire showered abuse on the heads of the shrinking group. "Three minutes," he called. "Three minutes I give you to be off in, and if you've not gone by then we'll turn the dogs on you!" He slammed the window, and returned to his place at the table. Once again the glass was raised to his lips, but he did not taste the wine. This time it was i-ot the rough country voices joined in chorus. A child's voice, tremulous at first, but gathering strength as she went on, filled the room with melody. Get thee up, my almoner, Be thou open-handed. 5 Steward, is the board prepared As I have commanded ? In my hall shall meet to-day, Not the rich who can repay, But the poor, who seldom may Feast on Christmas morning. The voice. made 1 he squire tremble, and tears, like rain-storms in the tropics, filled the dry river beds that furrowed his, blanched cheeks, and sent even the dignified Simpson scampering to the window, waiting for a signal from his master to throw it open. Pass) the word, my trusty guards, Fling the- dungeons open. Friends and foes may enter here, Be it as a token That man's vengeance now must cease, Love and pity to increase, So may reign God's blessed peace, Peace, on Christmas morning. Eighteen years ago a voice, oh! so like this, had sung the same carol in that very house. But she was dead. "Dead!" whispered the squire, hoarsely. "And her scamp of a husband dead) also; I" know it, I read it in the papers'. What is this—the dead come to life again?" Slowly he rose from his place and tottered towards the window. "Open it, Simpson—open it!" The window was opened wide, showing the group of carol singers crouching in the back, while in front stood the girl whom Nat had carried across the stream. Erect she stood, ard proud; her whole soul centred in the old-world carol she was singing: Xo room was there at the inn For the gentle Stranger. f Mary then her Child God laid Lowly in a manger. But when sheathed is foreman's sword, Sick and poor are round the board. Then may enter Christ the Lord. Christ—'On Christmas morning. As she came to the last line she timidly ascended the steps, until she stood at the open window. The squire never moved, but first one brmcl was outstretched, and then another, and then with a fob he raised his proud old head and called: G i Simps-on, always most tactful of men, sur- passed himself on that eventful night. Quickly he stepped out 011 to the lawn, closing the win- dows behind him, and led the carol-singers round to the servants' hall, where another supper was prepared for them, and where at the close of a speech by the dignified Simpson, they drank the health of the young mistress in the squire's famous brew of

THOROFGH ENJOYMENT. The Lady: Well, I'll give you twopence— not because I think you deserve it, mind, but be- cause it pleases me." The Tramp: "Thank you, mum. Couldn't yer make it a tanner, an' thoroughly enjoy yerselfi-" WHAT IS A NEEDLE? All the children were asked to bring to the class a short original composition about some article they saw in everyday use, and this is what one little boy wrote:—" The needle is a sewing tool. It is composed of two parts, the point and the eye. The eye is made of air, and is what you stick the thread through. The point is made of steel, and is what you stick through the cloth."

VARIETIES, 1 A fool may meet with good fortune, but only the wise profit by it. Real merit is like a river—the deeper it is the less noise it makes, It's almost as easy to achieve foolishness as it is to be born that way. She may be a gossip," said Airs. Goude, but I believe she tells the truth." "My dear," answered Miss Pepper, "that is frequently the worst form of gossip." "Johnny if I give you a threepenny bit can I trust you to convey this note safely to your father?" "Yes—er—but it would be mu-h safer for a sixpence!" He: "Isn't that new gown of yours finished yet?" She: "No. The dressmaker's work on it was only completed yesterday." "But if the dressmaker's done what else is there?" "Oh, all my friends have to criticise it yet." It is said that it is now possible to take a photograph with an exposure of the 100th part of a second. A father of a family says the worst of it is that it is impossible to get the small boy to sit still for that length of time. Husband (a literary man): "I wish you would stop watching little Dick for a while." Wife: If I dont' watch him he'll be in mischief." Husband: "Yes, that's what I mean. When he's in mischief he's quiet, and I want to write." "Mrs. Jones," said the grumbling boarder, "I am going to write to the Town Clerk." Mrs. Jones: "Indeed, sir. What about?" "About the quality of the water. It's disgraceful. Why, I detected a distinct flavour of coffee in it this morning." Manzig met his publisher, and, bowing politely, said: May I ask why you put my novel among the medical books in your cata- logue?" "Because," replied the publisher, "it was found to be such an excellent means of in- ducing sleep." Old Quiverful: And so you want to take our daughter from us? You want to take her sud- denly without a word of warning?" Young Goslow: "Not at all, sir. If there is anything about her you want to warn me against I'm willing to listen." Are you still taking dumb-bell exercise ?" said Mrs. Boardesley to her very thin lodger by way of a little mild chaff. "Yes, madame," he said austerely. I am endeavouring to in- crease my strength, and so get on even terms with your butter." Mistress (to nrw servant): "By the way, Jane, I may inform you that your master and I always^ speak French at table." New Servant: "That's all right, ma'am; in my last place we spoko French in the dining-room and German in the servants' hall." Have you anything to say before sentenec is pronounced against you?" asked the j uclg "The only thing I'm kickin' about," answered the convicted burglar, is bein' identified by a. man that kept his head under the bedclothes the whole time. That's wrong." Miss Kuhl: "No, Mr. Hunter. I cannot marry you. I suppose you will find some other girl." Mr. Forchen-Hunter H'm! Can't you offu* me any greater consolation than that?" Mi:;s Kuhl: "Oh, yes; it may console you to know that I am not so rich as I am reported to be." Mrs. Oldwed: "Your husband seems like an awfully nice man. I hope he hasn't anv bad habits." Mrs. Newed: "Only one—but that Is the limit. It is the mother habit." Airs. Newed: "Yes; mother's coffee, mother's bread, mother's pies, and all that sort of thing, you know." "May I ask what is your occupation, sir: asked the old boarder of the latest arrival. "My occupation?" replied the newcomer. "Oh, I am a sculptor." "You carve marble, do you ?" "Yes." "Ah, sir, I fore,see you will be a valuable acquisition to this table. Will you kindly come up to this end and carve this fowl ?" Lady: "Now, cabman, I wish you to be ex- tremely careful. When you come to a crossing you must wait until the policeman tells you to go on and if the streets are slippery yon must drive very slowly." Cabby All right, mum I'll be werry careful, mum; and in case of a haccident, mum, which 'orspital would you like to be taken to?" Page Boy (who has given notice to his master the squire): "The fact is. sir, I can't stand the way in which folks in the village talks about I." Squire: "But. my boy, you mustn't mind that; it's a way people have all the world over, Why, now, I dare say they talk about me, too." Page Boy (hastily): "Oh, sir, that they do, but I ain't as bad !1f¡ that. sir." "In some of the provincial theatres the ar- rangements and construction are absurdly old- fashioned," remarked a conceited actor. "Last week, for instate, I was playing Hamlet at Seaport; there w',s an alarm of fire, and it took no fewer than ten minutes for the audience to pass through the doors." "The poor fellow was lame, I suppose," was the. cruel comment. A woman whose throat had troubled her for a long time grew impatient at the slow pro- gress she was making, and consulted her doc- tor. "Madam. I can never cure you of this throat trouble unless you stop calking and give your throat a complete rest," said the medico. "Oh doctor," objected the patient, "talking can't affect mo,. I'm very careful. I never use harsh IDngna g "Before we were married," a lady com- plained, "you always engaged a cab when you took me anywhere. Now you think the 'bus or the car is good enough for me." "No, my dar- ling, T don't think the 'bus or th? car is good enough for you. It's because I'm so proud of you. In a cab you would be seen by nobody, while I can show you off to so many people by taking you in the bigger conveyance!" A gentleman one day met a man who, though married was well known to be a confirmed idler. "Have you got a job yet, Tom?" the former asked. Yes, sir." "What are you doing?" "I'm an understudy, sir." "An understudy, T-i-a ?" "Yes, sir. My wife does washin', an' I'm her understudy." But have you ever been ca'led upon to take her place?" "No, sir; I ain't got so far as that yet, sir." Tommy had been forbidden to swim in the river owing to the danger. One day he came home with unmistakable signs of having been in the water. Hi:" mother scolded him severely. "But I was tem-ted so badly, mother," said Tommy. "That's ail very well, but how did you come. to have your bathing suit with you?" Tommy paused, and then said, Well, mother, I took n:y bathing suit along thinking I might be tempted.' Young Lady: "Would you please put in Editor: "It's no use, my dear young lady, our space is fully filled up." Young Lady (disappointed): "Oh, I think you might perhaps have room for this." Editor": "Poetry I suppose? Oh, no, we have no room for that." Young Lady: "But it isn't a poem—it's an advertisement for our dog. He's lost, and Editor (cordially): "Certainly, my dear ladv, allow me to conduct you to the advertis- ing department." The new minister was calling on his parishioners, who greeted him in most cases with kindly welcome. One old lady, however, was quite effusive. After she had shaken him by the hand, she said heartily: "Ah, sir, I do like it when you preach." The minister, un- used to such complimentary phrases, beamed. "Thank you," he said, "I wish there were more of your kind. And why, my good old friend?" "Ali, she replied, "when you preach I can always get a good seat." "Can I go through this gate to the river?" politely inquired a very stout youth of a farm labourer. P'r'aps so; a load of hay went through this morning," was the quiet reply. "Did YOU ever think what you would do if you had a millionaire's money?" asked one junior clerk of another. "No," was the. reply, but I have often wondered what he would do if he had mine." He:" Miss Kiiota is certainly a plain girl, isn't she?" She: "Well she isn't a beauty, but when you hear her sing you will forget her face." Why, is her singing as bad as tiiit- "You young rascal!" said an old gentleman to a rash little street urchin, "if that cab had run over you where would you have been, now?" And the boy answered: Up behind, a-takin' »f his number. 9f his number.

Not the learned but the learners are the great in life. Gratitude is the sweetest music that flo\v; from the human heart.—Henry Lee. The perfect.-Those who present to God 9 chaste body, a righteous soul, and, a holy spirit. —Irenceus. Keep an open mind. Gcethe defined a cultured man as one who did not think he could see the world from his own church steeple." The envious are the most unhappy of men, as they are not only tormented by their own misfortunes, but by the good success of others.- Theophrastus. Life is made up, not of great sacrifices of duties, but of little things, of which smiles and kindnesses and small obligations, given habitually, are what win and preserve the heart.—Sir Humphrey Davy. Joy and sorrow, through the land, Walk together, hand-in-hand. Happy Joy, with laughter sweet, Is a friend we love to meet. Sorrow, with her mournful eyes, Is an angel in disguise. —Caroline Tickner. Every day brings its message to us from God. Some days call us to energy and work. Some days call us to be patient and brave. Some days bring us a call to brotherhood, sympathy, and self-denial. We cannot choose the day's message. It is not always what suits our desires. But only by accepting it will we reach the fulness of life and experience that God means us to have. -J. R. Miller. Prophets of Nature, we to them will speak A lasting inspiration, sanctified By reason, blest by faith. What we have loved Others will love, and we will teach them how; Instruct them how the mind of man becomes A thousand times more beautiful than the earthl On which he dwells; above this frame of things. In Beauty exalted as it is itself Of quality and fabric more divine. -Wordsworth. A holy life is made up of a number of small things; little words, not eloquent speeches or sermons; little deeds, not miracles or battles, not one great heroic act of mighty martyrdom. make up the true Christian life. The avoidance of little evils, little sins, little weaknesses, little- follies, little indulgences of the flesh; the avoid- ance of such little things as these goes far to make up, at least one side of the beauty of a. holy life.—Andrew Bonar. The child in its nurse's arms catches at a ribbon, or its eye is caught by something that shines. It is the beginning of a process in the mind of man which makes material sights and objects first beautiful and then emblematic, first fine images, and then moral images-a process which starts with a physical impulse and ends in spiritualising Nature, and giving a soul to the world of mere measures and sizes, lengths and breadths, heights and depths, lights and shadows. —J. B. Mozley. I should as soon think of going into my barn- yard and saying, a 0 Alderneys! be careful about giving too much milk," as I should think of saying to men, Avoid getting rich." I do not care how much milk my cows have. If it is good, rich milk, the more there is of it, the better I like it. I have never exhorted men not to seek wealth; but I have said to men, "Riches alone do not make manhood, nor produce happi- ness." A man may be rich, and be a fool. A man may be rich, and be miserable.—II. W. Beeeher. Who is my Friend? The man with vision high Of utmost good for man, and self-subdued To service of the game, with soul imbued In sympathies benign: the beaming eye With honour bright, and overhead the sky Of Faith serene and vast; the goal pursued With steadfast step: the heart that will not lie. Who is my Friend? The Life that side by side Marches with mine, that feels the wildness near: That weakness in me knows and doth not chide; Aly Brother in this night of time and fear,. Who loves me in my sore defeat: my guide To victory: Comrade in battle's role! Howe'er I fare, the other of my soul. —Geo. A. Gordon, I had no conception of the absolute darkness which has covered the national mind in this respect, until I began to come into collision with persons engaged in the study of economical and political questions. The entire naivete and un- disturbed imbecility with which I found them declare that the laws of the Devil were the only practicable ones, and that the laws of God were merely" a form of poetical language, passed all that I had ever before heard, or read of mortal infidelity. I knew the fool had often raid in his heart, there was no God; but to he ax- him say clearly out with his lips, "There is a foolish God," was something which my art studies had not prepared me for.—Ruskin. To seek constantly to do better than people expect of us is a healthy rule for living. To be content to do merely as well as is expected of us is a dangerously low aim. A man who had to carry through an important and difficult undertaking one night, knew that his co-workers would, naturally and properly, expect him to. be-absent from his usual place at the customary early hour the following morning. Therefore/ he determined not to meet their expectations—' and he was on hand, as usual. He gained in his influence with them, by doing the. unexpectedly difficult thing; and he gained also in will-power and self-discipline. When people expect less of us than we can do, it is pretty important to decline to meet their expectations. Some of the most stirring men in the world, persons in the thick of business of all kinds, and, indeed, with the business of the world itself on their lia-,nrl.,s-Lorenzo de Medici, for instance, who was at once the great merchant and the political arbiter of his time—have combined with their other energies the greatest love of books, and found no recreation at once so whole- some and so rueful. Every man who has a right serse of business, whether his business be that of the world or of himself, has a respect for all right things apart from it; because business with him is not a mindless and merely instinc- tive industry, like that of a beetle rolling its ball of clay, but an exercise of faculties con- genial with the other powers of the human being. rmd all working to some social end.- Leigh Hunt. There are fwo elements that go to the com- position of friendship, each so sovereign that I can detect no superiority in either, no reason why either should be first named- One is Truth. A friend is a. person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal, that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and second thought, which men never put off, and may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness with which one chpmical afom meeets another. Sin- cerity is the luxury allowed, like diadems and Authority, only to the highest rank, that being permitted to speak truth, as having none above it to court or conform unto. Every man alone is sincere. At the entrance of a second person, hypoorisv begins. We parry and fend the ap. proach fellow-man by compliments, by gossip, by amusements, by affairs. We cover up 3ur thoivrht from him under a hundred folds.— R. W. Emerson.