Pontypool Free Press and Herald of the Hills

THE DRAGON FLY. See his double-fold wings of bright golden hue; His helmet of crimson, his mail of dark blue Or it may be in purple the dragon you'll ken. As he skims round the pool in the wild-wooded glen. See how graceful his flight through the warm summer air, As if out for pleasure in weather so fair; You would not imagine on such a bright day, That the dragon was hunting about for his prey. And yet so it is-like the tyrant of old, He flies from his lair clad in garment of gold, And with his sharp teeth and black shining eyes, Is a terrible fellow amongst the poor flies. For if a poor fly should be rambling his way, In an instant, like lightning, he '11 dart on his prey And tear it to atoms--thus does he display The traits that historians ascribed in their day, To bloodthirsty tyrants, who reckless and bold, Were array'd, like the dragon, in purple and gold. LEWIS.

ECHOES FROM MY HARP. o. III.-FALSTAFF. I. Have I lived to be carried in a basket, like a barrow of butcher's offal, and to be thrown in the Thames ?-.ilterry Wives of Windsor, act iii., sc. ?. Come, friend, and pause with me by Datchet Mead, 'Twill give you laughter-aching sides, I ween; For the man-mountain, old and gross Sir John, Hath tilted been, in ditch by Thames his stream. He would have dared to work his wicked will On the fair frolic dames of Ford and Page, But retribution have they swiftly ta'en: Go, knaves," quoth they, in mud his heat assuage." 0 scandal to the race of worthy knights With greasy clouts and linen thus encaged, How must thy mighty soul have fiercely swelled, And with heroic vengeance stern have raged As John and Robert, 'neath the leaden weight Of thy unwieldy carcase, slip and pitch, How thankfully they must have turned thee out, Swiftly up-swallowed in unsavoury ditch! You said, prevaricating knight, in Thames They plunged you, to cool your amorous heat: The serving-men and whitsters eke can prove Not in the stream you lay, but ditch unsweet. The hissing surge of which you made complain Was stagnant, slimy, odorous of decay A figure most absurd you cut, dear Jack, To any wanderer strolling past that way. Plunged in the Thames, our sympathies you crave,— Plumped in a ditch, consumedly we laugh I. At seeing you, all mudded and forlorn, Scant-winded, homeward urge your dripping path. Away, Sir John, repent thee of thy deeds Learn Wisdom Follow Virtue Yet, alack The morrow sees him roaring at his plight, Over a flagon of sweet sherris sack. II. Mrs Quickly: How now, Sir John, quoth 1; whut, man! be of good cheer. So ':). cried out God, God, God! three or four times: now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of God.—Henry the Fifth, act ii., >c. 3. Aside, 0 Jester, lay thy cap and bells. Here, in a brawling tavern off Eastcheap, Enter; to low-ceiled attic wend thy way, And to a sick man's bedside softly creep. All that is mortal of Jack Falstaff's here. And mark the irony of relemtleaa Fate IIts boon companions gone-an ancient trull Alone is found on the poor knight to wait. And is this what he lived for-this the end Of all that wealth of frolic, wit, and jest? The merriest he among a merry crew, Who in wild license found their chiefest zest! Scenes from a chequered past would cross his mind, Yet hardly one where mirth had not its share; Oft had he heard, yet would he not believe, Behind the horseman ever sits black Care." What mournful memories for a dying man His very soul with coarsest lusts imbued Now mingling with a wild and warlike scum, Anon with men more witty—and more lewd. He called on God (in penitential prayer ?) Then at the mystic midnight turn o' tide" His wand'ring spirit, "babbling of green fields," Was parted from its clay so Falstaff died! W. H. HARPER.

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] L 'TWIXT CUP AND LIP. BY NANNIE LAMBERT, Author ens of "Spring Leaves,' "Tlwugltts on the Talmud," 'e. CHAPTER X. (Conlinued.) We dine early tnat aar, to accommodate the travellers, and an hour Lite-vvithout asking permis- Pion-without, indeed, caring what may be thought or said—I dress myself in dark quiet garments, and go out on foot. Then I engage a cab, and entering it, take up my stand within view of the house. Presently, the carriage comes round to the door, and there is a bundling of luggage and wraps. Then, Mrs. Daring and Carl come down the steps, and enter the vehicle. They are about to drive away, when Mrs. Beech appears upon the scene, hurriedly putting on her gloves, and enters it, also. She is going, politely, to see them off. I am too far distant to distinguish voices, but I can see by gestures that they are endeavouring to dissuade her from doing so, and that she is playfully resisting their entreaties. She gains the day, and gets in. V lever as Airs. Daring is, tills is check the third. The driver of my cab has got his directions, and quietly follows the carriage, keeping it well in view. As we move away, I see a tall man, in gentlemanly attire, who has been walking leisurely on the opposite side of the street, spring hastily into a hansom, which seems to appear by magic at his side, and drive away in the same direction as myself. We pull up at Euston Square, and I get out, and walk into the station. A feeling of curiosity makes me look out for the tall man, but he is nowhere to be seen. The veil which I have tied on, is so thick that I can scarcely discern objects through it, but I can see, amidst the general confusion, Mrs. Daring and her late hostess standing on the platform, whilst Carl goes to the ticket-office. He runs against me, with- out recognising me, and I follow him. He looks anxiously back to where the two ladies are standing-stamps his foot angrily-hesitates-receives a nod from his mother-and, finally, enters the office, and purchases the tickets. Then he returns to them, puts his relative hastily into the railway carriage, seems to remonstrate with Mrs. Beech, after a moment's parley, takes her upon his arm, and leads her away, she smiling and looking back, as she goes reluctantly off. The moment they are out of sight, Mrs. Daring springs from the carriage, arrests the steps of a porter who is hurrying by, asks him some eager questions, and stands with hands clasped, and foot advanced, watchinof fAT* PoiO -0 .u. In a moment or two he comes, and waves his hand, as she speaks to him, with a deprecating gesture. The confusion is at its height; the whistle is sound- ing the train is about to start. Carl rushes to the luggage- van-succeeds, after some trouble, in getting out a couple of boxes—pays the guard with a liberal hand—is equally liberal to the porter who trundles the baggage upon a hand-barrow—and hurries his mother out of the station. So rapid are their movements, that I am scarcely able to follow them. They get into a cab, and whilst their luggage is being stowed away upon the top, I re-enter my vehicle, and keep their's in view as before. They drive, at failing pace, back through the streets which they have just traversed, go right through Piccadilly, and on at a dizzy rate, past Hyde Park and Brompton. The driver turns into Sloane Street, but pulls his horse on his haunches as Carl IIhouts to him, and drives right on through Kensing- ton, and along the Hammersmith Road. I earnestly hope they are near the end of their strange journey, for the pace is terrific, and the wretched animal attached to my cab, is painfully blown. At length, when I imagine that we cannot be far from Kew, they turn a pretty side street, or road, containing numerous small and ornamental villa-residences and at one of these—about mid-way —the panting horse is brought to a standstill, and they get out. They enter the house. The luggage is brought n, the driver is paid, and moves away, evidently well contented with his fare, for he touches his hat; the hall-door is shut, and everything is quiet. There is scarcely anybody in sight on the deserted road, and I get out of the vehicle, and dismiss it. As I do so, a man passes me, and looks sharply at me. We are not very near a gas-lamp, but I recog- nese him: he is the man whom I have seen early in the evening, in Mayfair; but if he can make any- thing out of my commonplace garments and impene- trable veil, he is indeed clever. When I come to the end of the-,road, the rain, which has been threatening for some hours, begins to fall heavily, and the wind roars, amongst the freshly- budding trees. There is not a vehicle in sight, ex. cept the one which I have lately quitted; and the miserable horse is so lame, and is hanging his head in such a dismal manner, as he plots, tired, along the wet roadway, that I feel ready to walk the entire dis tance back, rather than augment the weight which he drags with such a wearied air. I plod on steadily for a mile or more. Then, an omnibus overtakes me, and I find to my great relief that it will take m) quite close to my present abode, so I get in, and am whirled along in a strange train of thought. It is curious to think, that whilst my employer fondly believe that her guests are bein? rapidly conveyed to the Holyhead boat, I am in possession of the fact that they are ensconced within easy distance of her house—that whilst they themselves are comfortable in the belief that their ruse has suc- ceeded to a nicety, I, and at least one other, have the power to pounce upon them at any moment. I have never believed one word of the intended journey tc Ireland, but it would'certainly have never entered my head that they would hide themselves in the very heart, as it were, of the enemy's stronghold. Yet such has been their policy. When the omnibus sets me down, the rain is pour- ing mercilessly on the dripping pavements, and before I can reach my destination, I am drenched to the skin. As I am hurrying through Curzon Street, a tall figure comes round the corner, and walks along on the opposite side of the pathway. Presently a hall-door opon.3 as he passes, and in the light which streams forth, I identify tho man who has twice before at- tracted my attention. He does not appear to be ob- serving me now at all, nor even to see me, so I hasten on unmolested. The clocks are striking eleven, as I go up the steps of Mr. Beech's house. The lights are out, except in the hall, and as I am waiting for admittance, I re- move my disguising veil, and shake the wet from my dripping garments. I am quite conscious of the sorry figure I must appear, as I step into the hall; but the servant who admits me, seems too sleepy to observe me very closely, and I walk straight to my own apartment. On the landing I encounter Mrs. Beech. She is evidently very angry, for her face is red, and her cap is awry-always a bad sign with her. I am passing her with a bow, when she confronts me, and says in an awful tone-" Miss Ashton, I am much surprised at your conduct. I do not want to know were you were it is quite enough for me that you have been absent without permission, and out at improper hours. I cannot have such an example before my household. You can leave the day after to-morrow—Saturday—if you can complete your arrangements. Until then, although I shall not ittempt to restrain you during the daytime, I shall insist upon your being in the house before night- fall." She leaves me no time for reply or explanation, 3ven were I disposed to offer such, but sweeps past me with a majestic air, and enters her own apart- ment. Again that night, the longing cry for Derrick, which the close of another day has found still un- latisfied, goes up from my troubled souL

CHAPTER XI. It is quite evident, when I descend to the brean- fast-room the following morning, that I am in dis- grace. Mrs. Beech looks as black as thunder, and bids me a most icy good-morning," my pupils, who are, I know, really attached to me, appear con- strained and ill at ease. Mr. Beech is quiet, as usual, but I have never known aim to be so attentive and polite. He even exerts limself to converse with me-a thing almost un- known with him—and entirely disregards his wife's forbidding glances. After breakfast, I go out to accomplish a project, which has been in my thoughts since the preceding lay, and about which I feel somewhat nervous. I lave, after mature deliberation, arrived at the con- clusion that Mrs. Daring and her son will, in all probability, flit from their new abode before many lays are over, and that, even were they to stay in it, ny keeping guard upon their movements is a simple impossibility. I, therefore, drive straight to Scotland iard, where, after some delay, and much anxious aeart-throbbing, I have an interview with 'a man in luthority,' who listens to me, and converses and irranges with the most consummate ease and coolness, ind is doubtless so well acquainted with the ins and outs of questionable society, that he regards all such matters as mere commonplaces, and does not bestow upon them any unnecessary thought or wonder. Only once he seems to rouse up a little, and calls a :lerk, with whom he confers for a moment in a low tone, and who brings him, by his directions, sundry ledgers and papers, which he carefully examines, ask- ing me questions all the while, and keeping his eye upon some notes which he is making. Then he writes down my name and address in a neat pocket-book, the clerk having previously written it at the desk, makes me a polished bow, and sends me away quite satisfied, and comparatively happy. As I am going through one of the outer offices, a man, who is standing conversing with a sergeant of police, attracts my attention. He is tall, and high- shouldered, and I easily recognise him as the man whom I have last seen in Curzon Street, on the pre- vious evening. He looks at me, but not with any particular steadiness or interest, and I pass on my way. The next two hour3 are spent by me in seeking a lodging, into which to move on the following day. It is no easy matter to find one exactly suitable, for I am far more difficult to please than on the occasion of my first wretched visit to the metropolis. The surroundings of prosperity have made me saucy. It is not very easy to satisfy me, in the extremely limited class of lodgings-houses at which my equally limited means, warrant me in applying. Nor will I consent to bind myself to remaining otherwise than from week to week, which is a serious obstacle, and does not seem to find favour in the eyes of landladies. Altogether the task of finding a residence is one difficult of accomplishment, and when I have at length succeeded in engaging two neat parlours, in a quiet healthy suburb, I feel that a weight has been lifted from my mind. My next drive is to the telegraph-office, where I send a message to the housekeeper at Beech Hill, making known my new address, and requesting of her to communicate it to anybody who may chance to enquire for mo, and to forward my letters thither, in case of any such arriving. This done I spend a brief while in transacting sun- dry little businesses, and then return, tired and heated, to Mayfair. The servant tells me at the door, that Mrs. Beech and her daughters have gone out for the day; and adds the information, that a gentleman has been, for upwards of an hour, waiting to see me in the drawing- room. I do not stay to hear more, if, indeed, he has more to say, but spring hastily upstairs, and find Derrick, pacing impatiently up and down. He folds me in his arms with a glad cry, and for several moments neither of us can speak. Then he puts me from him, strokes my hair, gazes fondly into my face, and says- "Darling, darling! it has seemed a long time has it notP" Then I look up at him, for the first time, and see that he is sunburnt and travel-stained, and that, although his face is radiant with momentary happi- ness, there are lines there, which I have not seen before. He shuts the door, leads me to a couch, and sayii- So you were not expting me ?" I look at him in wonder, and he adds-" I wrote, saying that I should be here at noon to-day." Then I tell him that I have never received the letter, and learn that he has written to me twice during the week just closing. I repeat that I have never seen the letters, and he expresses astonishment, and proceeds to make enquiries; but I stop bim; asking abruptly—" Are you married ?" If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, he could not start more visibly; and my eyes, which are eagerlj devouring his face, discern, with a horrible pang a great and sudden change comes over it. T-Ie does not answer my question, but says—" Why do You ask Then I search my pocket-book—take from it a folded paper—spread it before his gaze—and say- Because I received this and, although I did not believe it, I have been yearning to show it to you, and to hear what you have to say. You know the writing ?" He looks at it without taking it from my hand reads it; and says—" Yes." You know the motive P" Again his frozen lips form the answer-" Yes." Listen to me." I go on, watching his coun- tenance with a sickening heart. "For our dear Lord's sake, do not deceive me. I did not believe it -1 do not believe it-I shall not ask you one ques- tion concerning it—only tell me now, swear to me- is there any truth in this statement ?" He looks at me with haggard eyes, but looks down again, and says—"There is none." "Notruth whatsoever?" "None." "Do you swear it, Derrick?" He hesitates, andIasks-" Is not my word suffi- cient P" "Then, you refuse to swear-you fear to do so I fear nothing, Maude but I do refuse." You refuse! I cry, in wild excitement, "then our happiness is at an end He bows his head upon his breast, and says, "I am sorry," in the saddest tones I have ever heard. I am in an agony, and say-, I Do not be angry with me-do not wonder at me-you can never know what my mind has been since that letter was put into my hand. You do not know what I have had to en- dure, sitting under the fire of the eyes of those who actually penned it, and who were, I knew, engaged in watching its eff ect-cating my very heart ou, that they might not know how much that heart was wrung! And I triumphed; 0, thank God! they never knew." [ paused in great excitement. Derrick is seated on ilie couch I am kneeling before him. He is resting I 3no of his elbows upon his knee, whilst his hand ihadcs his eyes. The fingers of the other hand are loying with his watch-chain. He docs not speak, )r move, and I am so saddened by his silence, so lisappointed, and so completely overwrought by all I iave gone through, that I burst into tears. It is the arst fit of weeping I have ever indulged in, and al- though it is not noisy, it is long and severe. Derrick does not speak a word. He sighs heavily, jntc or twice, and changes his position, leaning his :hin upon the hand which has been shading his eyes, ind gazing forward, into troubled vacancy. We remain thus for a long while; it seems an lour then Derrick says- This is a sorry reception to give me, Maude. I think I should have stayed away altogether. It might have been happier for us both]; I believe it would, for you at all events." I weep with such uncontrollable bitterness at this, ihat he draws me to him, and strives to soothe me. -1 What is it, my darling?" he says fondly—"What .s all this affliction about ?" I cannot answer for weeping, and he goes on- When you asked me to swear, Maude, you cut Tie to the heart. A man who is capable of uttering tn untruth, will scarcely, in my opinion, hesitate to iwear to it. I answered your question, and you might have let the matter rest. Tell me Maude," ind he looks anxiously into my face, "is this my ivife that I am holding in my arms ? or have these :ew short weeks made a change in the love she bore me. I cling closely to him, and tell him, what is indeed the truth, that my love has only changed to grow more fond. He folds me closely to him, with real rapture, and says—" Well, my poor child, if this be go, what happiness we can look forward to in our married life, if we are not prepared to trust one another now ? Do you know that doubt is the death of love ?" I nestle more closely to him, and he goes on- "There is, my darling, a sweet flower called Con- idence it grows in the same parterre with Love, and s necessary to its existence. This beautiful flower is lometimes attacked by a deadly insect, called Sus- picion When this enemy preys upon it, the flower lies, and with it Love dies also; for Love cannot exist without Confidence. Does my darling follow me, and understand I am weeping more quietly now, and answer- Yes but, oh, reason with yourself, and spare me Have/had all your confidence? Is there nothing that you have been concealing from me ? No grounds, whatsoever, for that miserable letter ?" And, before I can receive his answer, I pour forth, in a burning torrent, the recollections of our conversation in the wood at Beech Hill, and remind him of bis own words, urging the necessity of secrecy in our engage- ment. He listens calmly, and says—"I remember all. The last two weeks have wrought a total change in my opinions and intentions. When I marry you, Maude, it shall be openly, in the eyes of the whole world. I shall have no secrets from you, nor you from me. I confess that there are some matters which I have not told you, but I came here to-day with the intention of making them known. You are, however, in too nervous a condition to hear me with calmness, nor am I as well prepared to speak as I thought I should have been. I shall, therefore, write all that I have to say, and shall call for my reply to-morrow. This will not hurry you too much. You will hear from me in the morning, and I fear I cannot wait more than a few hours for your reply. In the meantime, tell me all that has occurred here. I was told, on arriving here, that Mrs. Daring and Carl have gone to Ireland." I pause for a moment-only for a moment-and then say-" I shall deal quite candidly by you, as you have promised to deal by me. Mrs. Daring is not in Ireland she is here, in London, within easy distance of the spot where you are sitting. Now, listen"—and I scat myself by his lfjide I am, as you know, an orphan. I have an uncle, Stephen Ashton. His wife left him, many years ago, taking her daughter, then just verging upon womanhood, along with her. He failed in ever tracing them, and when his health gavejjway, the charge was committed to my father. This was com- municated to me by the clergyman who ministered to my parent on his deathbed. I received a hint that this woman had been seen in London, and I came hero myself, with a strange conviction that I should find her. Three different times, before my engagement with Mrs. Beech, I fancied that I had lighted upon her but found I had been misled. On the day of my going down to Beech Hill, I saw her at the win- dow when I arrived. She had, of course, heard my name, and guessed my relationship to herself. She wanted to see me; she wanted to find out everything about me; for that very night, if I mistake not, I found her pocket-handkerchief in my bedroom, prov- ing that she had been there on a tour of inspection. I will not detail all the circumstances which led me to the conviction that her identity was established: the affectation of the crippled hand, in order that she might never be called upon to write her moments- rare indeed—of forgetfulness, when the deception was visible; my finding of a scrap of paper which she wrote to you, and which you accidentally dropped before it was quite consumed her unceasing watch- ing of me, then, and at all times; her production of foreign sweatmeats on that eveninc. ralcnlatnd tr. produce thirst; her drugging of the water-caraph in my bedroom, in order to ensure my sleeping heavily, that she might creep through the window d dead of night, and steal the half-burnt paper out yf my pocket-book. You need not speak-I knew you were unaware of these things. She watched, be- hind the hedge, when you and I were speaking in the wood. She heard all we said, and witnessed cur betrothal! I saw her, although you did not. She wrote that miserable falsehood, accusing you of being already married, and sent it to some of her kindred IDirits, to be posted from abroad, that the deception upon me might be more complete. She denied aU knowledge of your whereabouts. She picked the lock of my desk, to ascertain if I had been writing to you, and steamed an unaddressed envelope, that she might purloin its contents, and substitute a blank sheet. Oh, the recital-of these things makes me sick! She watched me speaking with Mr. Beech, in his study at Beech llill, and drew his wife's attention to it, in order to excite her miserable and unfounded jealousy, and to prompt her to give me the dismissal which she, herself, had urged me-with pretended friendliness-to forestall. She atolo your letters to me; she was caught in the act of stealing one from my uncle, and with the terror which a guilty conseionco conjured up at tho eight of his writing, she resolved upon flight, and concocted the story of a projected journey to Ireland. I did not believe that such was really contemplated, and determined to watch her. She and Carl went last evening they had their plans well laid, but Mrs. Beech was near defeating them, by accompanying them to the station. Carl enticed her to return to the carriage before the train started, and when she was safely disposed of, the two adventurers drove at full speed to a villa at Hammer- smith..where they are located, thinking, doubtless. that if Stephen Ashton arrives, his search will be directed across the Channel, and that London will be the last place suspected of affording them shelter. Knowing that I could not hope to wcttch them fur- ther, T this morning gave notice of thom at Scotland Yard, so they are closely guarded, and were so (in my opinion) before I took the matter so nearly in hand. When I came home last night—if this place can be called my home—Mrs. Beech assailed me for being out at improper hours, and desired me to leave to- morrow so I sought and found a lodging, and I am going. Do not interrupt me for a moment: I have nearly done. Now, with this disgraced woman constantly before me, and her equally disgraced daughter, dressed in male attire, flaunting her words and ac- tions in my very teeth, and knowing that you were someway or other mixed up with them (although I never for a moment believed that you were her son), with all this, I say, can you wonder that my faith, however strong, should waver for a while, taken in conjunction with your own sayings?" I pause in the walk which I have taken up whilst speaking thus, and again sit down beside the man whom I have vowed to wed. He has not once spoken, during all this rain of words, and ha3 only twice manifested the least surprise. When I pause, he looks up, and says- I cannot speak more to-day. I am stunned and shocked: more so than I can express. I shall come to you to-morrow, and we can talk the matter over fully." He stands up, almost staggering. I write my new address on his tablets, according to his expressed wish, and he gives me the name of his hotel, in case of my desiring, in any emergency, to communicate with him. Then, he clasps me fondly to his breast- kisses me again and again-commends me to the God, whom he says he has too long neglected—and goes hurriedly away. (To be continued.)

A TRIP TO RAGLAN CASTLE. (Written for the Free Press.) Most people have, at some period or other experienced peculiar diffidence and embarrass- ment in describing scenes in which they them- selves were actors. To the present writer this feeling is somewhat enhanced by the fact that he is but treading in a track already well-tra- velled before, and by the knowledge that an interesting and able article recently appeared in these columns descriptive of "A Trip to Tintern Abbey." So much is the writer influ- enced by this feeling that he may bo said to be labouring under the same difficulty as the Irish- man who, in his richest brogue, declared that he was almost afraid to open his mouth for fear of putting his foot in it." The first Monday in August, commonly de- signated Bank Holiday," is fast gaining a place in the affections of the people, and bids fair to outvie in popularity its older rival, Wbit Monday. Although instituted so recently as 1871, and then more especially in the interest of Government officials, it is now taken advantage of by vast numbers of the toiling masses, and already occupies a high place in public favour. Locally, more interest than usual attached to Bank Holiday this year, it being understood for some weeks past that a party of friends con- nected with the Baptist Church, Crane-street, Pontypool, intended upon that day to take a trip to Raglan Castle, the famous "resort of pleasure-seekers gay." Monday morning came at last, as Monday mornings do but this par- ticular Monday morning possessed peculiar in- terest for us, inasmuch as it was Bank Holiday. Thanks to Sir John Lubbock, the day was ours the next and all-important question was "The weather." The appearance of the early morn- ing was certainly unpropituous the sky was full of dark and lowering clouds and every- thing betokened a thoroughly wet day. Added to this, at about 7 a.m. a sharp shower fell, which was in no way calculated to raise our hopes or cheer our spirits. The weather To be' fine 'or not to be?' This was the one- prevailing topic. The horizon was eagerly scanned, and the prospects of a fine day breath- lessly discussed. And still the clouds were dark and gloomy, and gave no signs of yielding to a clear sky and pleasant weather. At length, how- ever, patience (which must, in charity, be sup- posed to have had its perfect work ") was rewarded the clouds gradually dispersed, and hopes of fiue weather were in the ascendant. Congratulating ourselves, and bowing with all amiability to the will of the Clerk of the Wea- ther, we presently took our departure for the railway station. Having again occasion to ex- ercise our trust and patience, we were, by-and- bye, comfortably ensconced-in what part of the train, and who were our fellow-passengers, it does not fall within our province to say. Leaving Pontypool Road about 11.35, we were soon fairly on our way towards our rendezvous, not, however, without being strongly reminded of an incident which occurred in connection with a former trip to Raglan Castle. The writer was, on a memorable Bank Holiday about three years ago, one of a merry party who essayed to make the tremendous journey from Pontypool Road to Raglan. All went well until we came to what we thought to be Raglan Road Station. The train again proceeded, and in due course we alighted at our destination but to our amazement the railway officials insisted upon calling out Dingestow." Truth to tell, we had for once, at least, overstepped the mark instead of Raglan, we had been carried some miles fur- ther on. The explanation was that the station we conceived to be Raglan Road was really Raglan proper the former station had been abolished, and as the result we were at Dingestow. Talk about killing time Every expedient we could adopt towards effecting this desirable object was resorted to and, as far as memory Serves us, after waiting for two weary hours, and all the time exposed to the fierce rays of the sun, the return train from Monmouth at length arrived, and we were generously conveyed, free of charge, to our original destination. Free of charge, did we say ? Yes, gentle reader-but you may rest assured that we were not free of banter for many months to come. Dingestow !—the name, indeed, became to our minds a by-word and a reproach." Un Monday last, however, the party reached Raglan without a recurrence of this misfortune in other words, our recent adventure was marred by no similar misadventure. Walking through two or three fields of newly-mown hay, we soon arrived at the Castle, to which we were wel- corned with his usual courtesy by Mr Cuxson, the warden, whose unremitting kindness and urbanity during the day was the theme of gene- ral admiration. Our first thought now was the fortification of the inner man and creature comforts, with which, fortunately, we had come provided, were at once dispensed. This neces- sary prelude having been concluded to our satis- faction, we next made a tour of inspection. The detour of the Castle was but slowlv made there were so many objects of interest and attraction that we were compelled while looking to linger. As we surveyed the venerable ruins, which never appeared to better advantage than on Monday, we could not but feel that, notwith- standing all its ravages, the stern hand of Time had, in dealing with the Castle, dealt with tenderness and reverence. Through the spa- cious apartments,—including the Blue Room" and every other room,—we slowly wandered, peering into every nook and cranny, and ven- turing into many a hidden recess. By-and-bye we decided upon another survey-the towers this time being the scene of operations. After winding round and round, and traversing in- numerable steps, the top is at length reached, when the visitor is at once amply repaid for any inconvenience or unwonted exertion to which he has been subjected. From the summit a splendid view of a magnificent prospect was thoroughly enjoyed. The wide-spreading land- scape, with its undulating plains, fertile valleys, and luxuriant hill-sides, was delightful in the extreme and to those who could with reverence look from "Nature up to Nature's God," the scene was no less inspiring than sublime. After refreshing ourselves with repeated draughts of that harmless beverage commonly yclept "pop," the return journey was undertaken :—true, it entailed a great deal of effort on the part of the feet, but at length the feat was satisfactorily ac- complished. Besides our own party of about 120, there were present on the occasion a large number of visitors from other places. The clergy, as well as the laity, were of course largely represented the grounds of the Castle would have afforded a capital opportunity for the proposal of that time-honoured toast. The clergy and ministers of all denominations." We should say that the clergy of the Established Church were, on the whole, in the majority there were present the curate of twenty-seven, as well as the venerable rector of seventy. The dress and deportment of the assembled visitors presented excellent scope for observation and reflection. While on the tower we were joined by a young lady of commanding mien, who, bedecked, bejewelled, and befringed before and behind, certainly looked the picture of elegance, if not of beauty. She was accompanied by an exquisite attired in a blue serge suit, toying with a ferocious mous- tache, and sporting a telescope. Nice view from here, Tom, is there not ?" asked the lady. Tom acquiesced. Rather misty to day, though," continued the lady: "I don't think we'll venture up that other tower, Tom." Tom meekly replied in the negative; and having thus expressively relieved themselves, they moved away with infinite complacency. Upon the same tower was an antiquated individual who, with faultless cravat and high-pressure" hat, sat like a statue with his mouth hermeti- cally sealed to everybody and everything, ex- cept eating, drinking, and smoking. Having disposed of sundry sandwiches, and after drink- ing repeatedly at the fountain,"—in the shape of a suspicious-looking bottle,—the old gentle- man produced a cigar, which, after lighting, he proceeded to puff in the most orthodox fashion, but all the time looking as pleased as if his leg had just been amputated. He reminded us so strongly of the bear with the sore head that we left him alone in his glory." Upon the green below the scene was quite as entertaining and diversified. Everyone looked as if lie were Mayor of his native parish or township. For the amusement of the youngsters, as well as for children of a larger growth," two swings were in constant requisition. We also noticed that to the sweet strains discoursed by a harp, a great many couples of Terpsichorean proclivities were engaged in "tripping it on the light fantastic toe" during the afternoon. For those who would persist in enjoying themselves in their own way, several of the old-fashioned games were for the time being revived, including, Twos-and-threes, Bobby Bingo," and last, but not least, the inevitable Kiss-in-the-ring." Among those who joined in the latter diversion were more than one grave married man from our own neighbourhood, who tendered as an ex- cuse that no one would know but that they were single." It is not our desire to foster any spirit of discord in otherwise happy homes the identity of the persons here alluded to therefore remains a secret. During the afternoon Mr T. B. Smith rendered very efficient assistance in serving out sandwiches, which had been gene- rously consigned to him for distribution. These were gladly accepted-we presume on the same principle as that adopted by committees of dif- ferent institutions, whose announcements are headed, "The smallest contribution thankfully received and gratefully acknowledged." What next engaged our attention was an excellent tea, provided at a moderate charge, by Messrs John and Joseph Jones, of Pontypool. Tea being over, the party again dispersed to amuse themselves according to inclination. We were pained to observe during the day that the snob element was far from lacking. A cer- tain party of young men, whose homes are not very remote, contrived to render them- selves most obnoxious to all right-thinking and peaeeably-disposed visitors. We could but exclaim— Oh, wud ane th' giftie gie us To see oursel's as ithers see us." Another word about the weather" may not be inappropriate. Towards evening the sky again became overcast, and a heavy downpour seem- ed immiuent. But the impending catastrophe was again averted, and the would-be prophets were sadly disappointed. All too soon the hours flew by, and the time of our departure drew on apace. Too much praise cannot be accorded to those who undertook the arrangements, and who laboured with such assiduity to enhance the comfort and happiness of the party. Another walk through the hayfields, and we were at the station. Soon afterwards we were homeward bound the journey was speedily and safely brought to an end, and the party dispersed to their respective domiciles, feeling none the worse, but a great deal better, for their trip to Raglan Castle.

THE HOME SECRETARY ON HYGIENE. Presiding at the opening of the Parkes Museum of Hygiene at the University College London, Mr. Cross said :—" We are in the habit of hearing and saying very hard words about the drunkenness and vice which prevails amongst the poorest classes. I always hear that language with regret, because al- lowance is not made for the want of education or the physicial suffering and degradation of those people. (Cheers.) With regard to physicial health, you have a large field for your operations, and you want, as far as you can, to bring to bear upon the subject the great scientific knowledge many of you possess. What, as I understand it, you want to do is to get all the scientific knowledge on the matter applied to practical life, for we know that a great amount of the misery and disease which exists is preventible. (Cheers.) One of the objects, then, of this museum is to hunt down disease-to drive it into a corner and stamp it out. The causes of many diseases are preventible when taken in time, and what you practically want to do is to restore the actual birth- right of every citizen—pure light, pure air, and pure water. (Cheers.) We cannot for a moment conceal from ourselves that the inhabitants of great cities are at a great disadvantage in this respect. (Hear, hear.) lou want to restore to the inhabitants of towns whah the people in the country possess, and to secure the best clothing, the best food, and the best homes pos- sible for the people at kvge. If those objects are carried out, you will, I am sure, come to the conclus- sion that the actual physicial health of the people will be improved. (Cheers.) The difficulties you will have to content against are carelessness, indif- ference, ignorance, and selfishness. You will have to rebuke carelessness, to awaken the indifference, to enlighten the ignorant, and to stamp out that sel- fishness which is so hurtful. During the passage of the Artisans' Dwelling Act a very respectable- looking man came to my office to draw my attention to a point which he thought I probably had overlooked. He said I have saved my money and invested in house property, such as the act proposed to sweep away, and which pays me an enormous interest, which I cannot afford to lose." I told him The sooner you leave this room the better, because you will get no sympathy from me. I have stated the objects of this museum, and it is from the beginning to the end of this question that you want reform. It is wanted in the house by the architect and by the engineer, for in our present system of sewage there is often created the greatest evil. You want reform also in clothing and in the manner of preparing food, and attention to things which are apparently small will create the greatest amount of domestic happiness (cheers). There is no matter so small as not to receive attention at this museum, and which will not have the fullest weight y;iven to it that it deserves, I wish to give my heartiest assent to this movement, and if at any future time I can do anything to promote its success I will lo it. There are thousands of people who livo in crowded places-such places which few of you would venture to go into, and if obliged to live in them for a week would hardly be alive. You cannot imagine the degradation and suffering which the poorest classes in large towns are subjected to, and the impossibility, or nearly so, of their getting out af scenes of vice and misery. I trust that you will go away from this meeting with the determination to do all in your power to remove all these disabilities, und so improve the health, the moral, social, and physicial condition of the masses of the people (loud cheers).

A PHILADELPHIA paper says: 'Rag gathering is the only business in this city which is worth pick- ing up.' THE lesson of the present hours—Sixty seconds makes one minute, and sixty minutes makes one hour. A Corkonian, on being asked at breakfast how ho same by that black eye,' replied that he < slept on his fist.' THE puzzle which careful mothers try to solve is how to train the girls, and how to restrain the young boys. UDEll the laws of France no girl can marry her uncle, but a nephew can marry all his aunts if he wants to. THE girl who succeeds in winning the true love of l true man makes a lucky hit, and is herself a lucky miss. THE class of people which are most valued as cus- tomers by tradesmen in a new country are the ear- liest settlers 'THEY fired two shots at him,' wrote an Irish re- porter the first shot killed him, but the second shot was not fatal.' A SPANISH proverb says, 'The man who on his wedding-day starts as a lieutenant in the family will never get promoted.' A WITNESS in a court of justice declared that he was acquainted with all classes of nicn from lawyers up to the most respectable people. AN Aberdeen pundit has found out what makes the Tower of Pisa lean. He kiays, it is the want of good food in Pisa. A YOUNG lady says she dosen't see why, even if times are as hard as people say, the young men can't pay their addresses promptly. A School Teacher, who was recently kissed by mistake in the dark, explained her omission to use any light for nearly a month afterwards on the ground f hard times ?

THE DISPUTE IN THE TIN-PLATE TRADE. A meeting of the tin-plate workers of Mon- mouthshire, Gloucestershire, and Glamorganshire was held on Saturday, when it was resolved to take steps to resist the proposed reduction. A willingness was, however, expressed to submit to arbitration. Another meeting was held the same day at Llanelly, when it was also resolved to resist the proposed reduction. At Cwmavon, the official notice, as drafted at the Swansea meeting of associated masters, has been posted at the works of the Copper Miners' Tin-plate Company, to the effect that contracts will cease in 28 days. Affixed thereto is a list of the rate of wages to be paid in all departments on and after September 1st, 1879. Notices have also been issued by the Governor and Co.'s successors to the following effect: Cwmavon Works, &c., August 4th, 1879.-In view of a possible strike by the tin-plate workmen, notice is hereby given to contractors, clerks, agents, and employes at these works and collieries, that all contracts will cease in four weeks from this date. Signed, James Shaw." It is premature yet to know what action will be taken by the men, as there is no definite expression being given.

HOPE. There are many evils which are more than half cured by hope. Hope brings good things about us, not so as to be handled, but so as to be owned and rejoiced in. Hope prophesies to us. Hope makes us free of the universe. I am a pilgrim, and life is what I have to travel over; and oh, I have many dangers and many wants But hope is my all in all, nearly. Hope is light, and courage, and a staff and when I sit down it is a friend to talk with; and when I suffer it is an angel to stand by and strengthen me; and when I have wandered away in sin, and repented, and returned to the right path, then from hope I get peace of mind again,and new- ness of virtue.

NOT A SAFE TEST. Love is proverbially blind but a girl loses noth- ing if she allows a little common sense to mix with it. Many a girl has had her whole happiness for life destroyed because she obstinately chose to form her estimate of the character of a suitor exclusively by his behaviour towards her, and his professions of love, rather than by his conduct towards others. It is a pretty safe rule that a man whose whole life is but an exemplification of selfishness will not long continue generous in relation to hia wife. Character is seldom revolutionized by marriage. There may be a slight reform temporarily; it rarely lasts long. And men suffer as well as women from ill-assorted marriages. Many a towering ambition has been crushed, many a cupful of happiness has been converted into the dregs of bitterness, from the neglect of a young man to become thoroughly acquainted with a girl before taking this most important step in life.

ENGAGED. The state of being engaged (matrimonially) has its disadvantages to a modest girl. People are so rude with one another, and ask so many impertinent ques- tions, that one feels like avoiding them altogether; but even tactics of that kind won't free you from those meddlesome people who act so energetically and promptly in the matter, that they manifest all the symptoms of a personal interest. This prying spirit of outsiders is very annoying, and richly deserves the rebuke which ought to be administered. What sensitive girl wants to have her love-affiairs always discussed in her presence ? People are stupid enough to tell you, when you are half smothered with sup- pressed wrath, that they know that you like to be teased. Middle-aged men are particularly obtuse on this point. It seems to us like rudeness, but these men enjoy it, if we arc to judge by the broad smile that overspreads their faces when they are indulging in their offensive jests. The gentler sex are less an- noying to the betrothed. Not that they talk less, for that is not the case. They talk more, but not so much to you, except when one woman takes you alone and gives you a long lecture of mingled advice and gossip. But the tongue is unbridled, and people will talk despite what you say or think. We would not advise long betrothals. They should be avoided They give rise to endless gossip.

A SUGGESTION. Music has become almost a necessary part of a young lady's education, and parents expect theii children to learn to play the piano, no matter whether they have any taste for it or not. Even before then little hands can stretch an octave, they are placed under the care of a music-teacher. Instead of know. ing something of music as an art, and being capable of selecting a competent person, the parents too often select some shambling drummer, who can thump loudly and rapidly, and thus deceive the uncultivated ear. The teacher does not know how to use hef* own fingers properly, and so cannot instruct hei pupil to do so. The consequence is the poor child makes the hardest work imaginable of it, and the tiny hands and arms ache so painfully that it becomes penance to approach the piano. Now follows th? tiny hands and arms ache so painfully that it become: penance to approach the piano. Now follows tht strife of parent and child about practising, the very name of which makes many a child wince as though it had received a blow. A few months pass, and the teacher triumphantly exhibits her pupil's attainments by having it play a little waltz. Of course it is very clumsily performed, but the indulgent mamma says apologetically, "She is only a beginner, you know she does very nicely;" and she believes what she says. But she will never be a pianist. She may, perhaps, learn some brilliant pieces, in her way, in time, but she will never be able to do the simplest one justice, for her playing is much like the speech of a stam- merer. And yet it is no unusual thing to hear playeft who cannot execute a dozen bars evenly attempt tc entertain judges of music by their performances. Music has a soul, and rendered without that solil i1 is lifeless and cold. Though wordless, no language can so easily reach the inmost recesses of our hearts.

MEASURING THE INTENSITY OF DAYLIGHT. An attempt to measure and record, with somt accuracy, the variations of daylight throughout the day has lately been made by a German, Herr Kreus- ler, who has had made for him by Leibertz, in Bonn, an apparatus with the following arrangement. It consists of a drum fixed with its axis in the plane of the meridian, and adjustable sc as to be at right angles to the sun's rays. This drum has its border divided into twenty-four hours, twelve noon and twelve midnight being in the meridian plane. A strip of paper, sensitised with solution ol bichromate of potassium and having divisions which correspond to those on the drum, is placed round this. A second drum closely surrounds the first, and it turned by clock-work—from which it can be detached —once in twenty-four hours, in the direction of the sun's apparent course. This second drum has a slit for admitting light to the paper its width is such that any point on the paper is exposed twenty seconds as the slit passes over. The whole apparatus is placed in the open air under a glass bell jar. Its arrange- ment gives little trouble the paper strip has merely to be placed in its right position at night or undei artificial shade-to avoid coloration—and the outei drum slid over and so attached to the rotating axis that the isolation slit is opposite the hour ther present. The slit then begins to move round th( inner drum corresponding to the sun's course. The impressed slip, when removed in the evening, may be "fixed by shortly dipping in water and drying between blotting paper, or it may not, being quickly read; it shows a mostly continuous succession ol bands of various shades of black or rather brown. —Engineer.

WOMEN AND TOBACCO. There are many women, wives particularly, whe make tobacco a source of a large amount of family unhappiness. They are everlastingly rallying against smoking, continually getting at sword's points with every male friend and relative, and gaining nothing by it but a grim defiance, which discovers the fact that in the loner run a man's will is nmmliv a* afmno as a woman's when he once sets out upon a subject with the preconceived determination of having hif own way. Then there is the nervous woman who faints at the smell of tobaccq soke, and can detect a smoker a mile off; and the particular creature who is afraid of the house and the furniture becoming im- pregnated with vapour. These unphilosophical wives rush to the extremity of driving the smoker from home to indulge elsewhere in his failing for the obnoxious weed." All this is a very grave error and if the little wives only knew how much unhappi- ness might—if it was not already—result from this very proceeding, they would reflect twice before re- sorting to such petty tryanny. Let the smoker have some cosy little nook to himself wnere he can puff as much as he pleases without being continually tormented about it until fault-finding becomes a bore and a dread to him let it be sacred to cigars and meerschaum, spittoons and pipes of whatever description. He has an equal right to home and the nSfin!l°v,proP"etorshiP Should ensure him. ^ck nf L- e W1111 not fal1 into that unpleasant trick ot keeping late hours so frequently, and neglecting to spend his leisure hours at his own fireside. I n he days of courtship-which bring us to young ladies who may be at present enjoying that delect- itble season-you would not have thought to upbraid mm for such small errors, much less to have driven from your side by fainting fits and small attempts at lectures. No, no. You might have stowed the knowledge of the aforesaid away in your memory against the time when you two shall be one," but for the time being you would have let it slumber voiceless, just as the knowing little sweethearts of the present generation are doing. In fact, on birth- day anniversaries and holiday occasions, when you found you bad previously exhausted every other suitable and available momento of friendship and something more, you might have actually decided upon a smoking-cap as your offering to his lordship.

The rate at which the Zulu can travel upon emer- gency is astonishing. Some will travel as much as fifty miles in six hours; eight miles an hour is an ordinary nae-.

MY TRIP TO GOODWOOD. The following extract from an account of a trip to the far-famed Goodwood Races, in July, 1860, may prove interesting to many readers. It is remarkable that the weather of that year must have been almost precisely similar to that of the present time, and omitting mention of the date and the names of the horses, we might almost imagine that the writer had made his trip to Goodwood last week instead of nineteen years ago 1 The original, which was published in the Chepstow Weekly Advertiser of Sept. 1, 1860, was written by a relative of a gentleman residing in Pontypool, by whose courtesy we are enabled to reproduce a portion of it:— T In year of our at the unusually early hour (for me) of 6 o'clock, I emerged from the sheets, and made all due preparation for a start by the first up train but, oh what a morning it rained in torrents, nor did it cease till I had arrived at my destined port late in the evening. Every- body and everything looked damp, and mv com- panions upon the different lines of rails chatted chiefly upon the weather that was, and the wea- ther that was to be the high price of meat, the lateness of the harvest, and the paucity of game; but at length an elderly gentleman imparted to us most important information, Gentlemen," said he, you may depend upon it,—for I have beheld them with my own eyes for I reside in the midst of filberts and liops,-the lice, gentle- men, the lice hops will be dear this year, a national calamity, yes, the bitter beer will be Palmerized, the infernal strychnine will be used," and the last words that he uttered as he left the carriage for the Aldershott encampment were, "No joke, sir, we shall be poi- soned." My bitter-beer companion's seat was soon occupied by two individuals, but widely different in their tastes and manners, they were two trainers' assistants on their way to the Goodwood meeting our conversation quickly changed from lice to horses, we soon fell into a confabulation respecting the merits and demerits of some of the favorites of the principal races. They kindly offered me the tips for the stakes and the cup, the two most important races for the week. Gridiron and Horror were to do the trick with the greatest ease, and from late in- formation received from a brother who was in one of the stables, who was in the secret, it was a dead certainty but to make sure, they gave me three horses to back for a place. Had I been green enough to lay upon their tips, I should have been tipped over, for not one was placed by the judge so much for the glorious certainty of the would-be certainty. I have, therefore, come to this conclusion that both tips and tits are liable to bring a man into trouble. It was quite sad to see so much hay scattered upon the ground, thousands of tons deteriorated in quality and color. No golden tiara adorned the brow of Ceres, but she was decked with one of sombre green no nodding plumes, but her head bent towards the earth. How different from last year, when from the top of the Roman encamp- ment, you looked down upon a golden and smiling valley, studded with reapers, now upon a gloomy one of discolored hay, to green and weather-beaten crops of corn. Nor do I ever recollect seeing so many poppies some of the fields more resembled fields of blood than fields of corn. For See 'midst the corn the poppy rears its head, To show that man wants sleep, as well as bread. Considering the murky, misty, damp, and cheer- less day, I was not sorry to find myself beneath the roof of my relatives, receiving their con- gratulations upon my safe arrival; so, after fortifying the inner man, and partaking of a glass of grog and a mild Havannah, I retired to horizontal repose, dreamt that I was poisoned by bitter beer, and that my tips passed the post easy winners. I found to my satisfaction the following morning, at the breakfast table, that though Morpheus had administered to me a bitter pill, yet that it bad not taken away my appetite, so after a chat upon bygone days at the old rec- tory, about 10 o'clock, I took the ribbons of a 50-guinea fast-going cob, and arrived at the course, nine miles distant, in time to have a ramble over those magnificent downs, and cogi- tate upon surrounding objects before the races began; and on such a spot. and on such an oc- casion, the pericranium need not be idle. What a host of jockies and trainers hurrying to the weighing room. What can all the excite- ment mean ?-37 horses are to start for the Stewards' Cup, and as they took their canter up the course, the line of them seemed almost in- terminable, and as the people turned away, be- lieving all had passed, there came another and another, What a magnificent sight, and which no country but England could produce, 37 thorough-bred horses, their coats shining like satin, with the picked jockies of England on their backs, and all the hues of the rainbow in the colours of their jackets, up the course (upon which £ 15,000 has been expended) they cantered to the T.Y.C.-no flag fell, no bugle sounded, yet two are coming it at a slashing paee-oh, tis only Highness and Viroflay, who mastered their jockeys and passed the stand be- fore they could be pulled up. After some de- lay, the well-known shout is heard from the top of the grand stand-" They are off I" and as they descended the hill like a squadron of fly- ing cavalry, an involuntary expression of delight burst from the spectators. From the distance, the French horse was trying to overhaul the American that was leading, but when opposite the enclosure, the peach and white cap called upon his horse, who was in the second ruck, and Sweetsauce was proclaimed an easy winner amidst deafening shouts from the ring, 20 to 1 being laid against him at starting. Who is that tall, wiry-looking person, standing at the corner of the grand stand allotted to the noble Duke of Richmond's party, who watches each race so in- tently, and now then betting with the friends around him ? It is Lord Derby, and he is point- ing out to the Countess the person who has just entered the enclosure, dressed in black with a white hat, who is a man of mark, and who was quickly surrounded by the aristocracy it was no other than the renowned pugilist, Tom Sayers, and Lord Derby might have thought to himself, well, Tom, you and I have fought some toughish battles in our day. But what can cause the ex-premier to envelope his neck in such an unusual amount of neckcloth such artificial means are not required by Lord Derby to keep his head up, for, if the political horizon be read rightly, the head of the Conservative leader will be much more above water tnan at present. "They are off!" again saluted my ears this time for the Goodwood Cup, my rail- way companion's tip being made first favourite however, HORRIBLE to relate, in descending the hill, he was in difficulties, nor did he ever pass the post. Lord Annesley ought never to dine without having Sweet-sauce, for his horse again won the cup, and when be left Molton he was only intended for the Stewards' Cup, as his trainer entertained the idea that he could not stay over a miPe, and yet he cut down the two great favourites before they had gone half way, and giving a stone to the winner of the French 2000, literally walked in by himself. And now, gentle reader, if you want any more informa- tion, I beg to bring the racing calendar to your notice, and if you should need a trip in 1861 de- fer it till the Goodwood meeting you will find there picturesque scenery, and on the balcony on the cup day you will see mingled together the aristocrats of the world, and those lovely flowers, those transcendant gems, the merry maids of England, and as the last inducement, should my life be spared,you will see me. Vale. J. C.

The ship Pericles, 1 ,598 tons, Captain Largie. char- tered by the Agent-General for New South Wales sailed from Plymouth for Sydney on the 31,:& tilt. with 495 emigrants. A subterranean telegram wire has just been laid down between Hamburg and Bremen and Oldenbc >r and Emden, with branch lines to Bremerhaven and wilhelmshavon Epps's COCOA.- -GRATEFT, L AND COMFORTING.— By a thorough knowledge of the natural laws which govern the operations of digestion and nutrition, and by a careful application of the fine properties of well- selected cocoa, Mr Epps has provided our breakfast tables with a delicately flavoured beverage which may save us many heavy doctors' bills. It is by the judicious use of such articles of diet that a constitution may be gradually built up until strong enough to resist every tendency to disease. Hundreds of subtle maladies are floating around us ready to attack wherever there is a weak point. We may escape many a fatal shaft by keeping ourselves well fortified with pure blood and tt properly nourished frame, Ci, il Service Gazette. Sold only in packets labelled "James Epps & Co,, Homoeopathic Chemists, London." JOT. PONTYPOOL Printed by HUGHES & SON, at thtir General Printing Offices, for the Proprietor and Publisher, HENRY HUGHES, Junior, of Penygarn, in the parish of Trevethin, and published at the FREE PRESS Office, Market St.—August 9, 1879.