The Merthyr Express

POET'S CORNER. THE VIOLET. Down in a green and shady bed A modest violet grew. Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view. Yet, there it waa content to bloom In modest tints arrayed, And there diffused a sweet perfume Within its silent shade. Oh, let me to this valley go This pretty flower to see! That I may also learn to grow In sweet humility. A FRIEND EXCUSETH. If thou ttOst ask what is a friend, Thus do I answer thee, forsooth, A fneud's a friend in age or youth, A friend continueth to the end. A friend consoleth. When thy heart Is torn with anguish unexprest, His sympathy hut giveth best Of friendship's truest, holiest part. A friend remembereth. Though the years Pass oii and on, he loveth still, And more and more he loveth, till Upon thy grave he droppeth tears. A friend excuseth. Human thou, He knoweth it, and dotli not see Thy little faults, or, seeing, he Excuseth them. He knoweth how. THE DAISY WAY. The way she camo was o'er the fields, Where daisies primly grew, And as she passed each bent its head As if it surely knew. And where she stepped, the little maid, Upon the daisies white, Each blushed for very happiness Beneath her footsteps light. And all the sky smiled blue, so blue, And smiled the little maid, The light, of heaven in her eyes, Of life's care unafraid. And so I pray that, hand :n hand. May walk some summer day The little maid and love and I Along the daisy way.

Published BY SPECIAL Areangsmznt. The Road to Love BY MADAME ALBANEEI, tauthor of "Capricious Caroline," "The Strongest of All Things," "Susannah and One Other," "Love and Louisa," "The Way to Win," etc.. etc. COPYIUCHT. CHAPTER XII. Ellen's very frank words did not seem to trouble her cousin. He laughed again, his dis- agreeable and aggravating laugh, and answer- ed her coolly. "Yes. you look annoyed! Of course you've been jolly clever, you know, my dear Ellen, to manage to keep yourself hidden all this time. It was just by a bit of chance that I got. to know where you were and what you were doing. There was a butler here, a little while ago, got turned off, so I'm told, through you, well, this fellow oddly enough belongs to our town, he's given up being a butler, and has started no a betting and commission agent. I've been doing a little business with him, and one day when mother was out he came to our house. You remember that snapshot I took of you, and that you were so angry about? Well, I had that en- larged, and when he saw that, my betting friend began to talk, and what he said made me de- termine," Barneith concluded, "to come and see whether he was right and that you were here. From what my man tells me you must have a good bit of authority in this house, so it's all rubbish you know to say you can't give me a cup of tea or something of the sort." "I can give you nothn," said Ellen. "You have come here to satisfy your curiosity; now that you have satisfied it you can go.' He looked at her as though doubting her, but as she stood so proudly and coldly, and showed such undoubted unfriendliness, his face changed. "I don't see why you want to put any frills on with me," he said peevishly. "I think you might be a little sorry for me, you know what sort of a life ours is! You couldn't stand it, so you might feel a little sympathy for me." He got up. "I've got a chance," he said, eagerly, "a good chance of starling something on my own account in London, no more pokey little towns for me. Of course, there's been no end of a row at home with mother, but she has kept me under her thumb long enough. I Want some money," lie finished abruptly. "I have no money." Ellen answered him, "and you know that." "You've got more than I ever had," said Walter Barneith, "and I suppose you get a good 'screw here. Couldn't you get some in advance, they've got pots of money." Ellen remained silent and Barneith took up his hat and stick in a rage. "You're making a big mistake, El- len," he satd. "I can be a good friend, but I can be a. nasty enemy" "J want neither your friendship nor your enmity," said Ellen, and at that moment the door opened and Lady Norchester appeared. It was evident that something had disturbed. Miriam. r face was flushed, and she had the look in t'er eyes which Ellen had learnt to associate with violent temper. As she saw iWalter Barneith she came to a sudden stand- still, and then she laughed in rather a disagree- able fashion "I didn't know you were engaged," she said. ■There was colour in Ellen's face as she an- itwered. "I am not engaged, Lady Norchester. This— this gentleman has come here by mistake." It was Barneith who laughed .now. '•f didn't come by mistake," he said. "I pame on purpose to see Ellen; I'm her cousin." Lady Norchester said "Oh!" again, and then she turned to Ellen "Your relations treat you better than mine do," she said. Here's a letter come for you: it's from Harry's sister. I know her handwriting. I don't know what ehe's got to write to you about. She doesn't (taouble me with no letters." Ellen's hand trembled as she took the envel- ope held out to her. It hurt her definitely that, (Miriam should speak in this way in the presence fcf a stranger, more particularly in the presence of such a man as Barneith. She did not open the letter, but she looked at her cousin. '•You are going, she said, and her words ijtre almost a command. But Lady Norchester, feeling perhaps that here she had an opportu- £ ity of expressing some of her anger that she >lt, addressed Mr. Barneith: "Are you staying near here?" she asked: He turned and began very glibly to explain how he had come; and he dwelt with some emphasis on the fact that he had walked from the station, and would have to walk back. Then perhaps realising that he need not be on Tery treat ceremony with this strange handsome kidking young woman, he said: "Ellen's in a great hurry to get me away, because she says she's only your companion, fcnd she can't do what she likes." "Well, that's rather funny," said Miriam, with her hard laugh, "because she has been doing very much what she likes since she cam<e here" You had better stay a little longer, the said to Barneith. "I'll tell them to get the mpt-or ready to take you to the station." The young man at once put down his hat and "Thank you, Lady Norchester, it's ivery good hf you," he said, "it is rather a long tramp, and dusty, too." l "And I expect you are thirsty," said Lady Dorchester, and she rang the bell sharply. Although she spoke to Barneith in this friendly toiot of way she really had her eyes fixed on Ellen all the time; and after the butler had brought in the tray of spirits and soda-water, the addressed the girl sharply. "Aren't you going to read that letter?" she laid. "I told you I know who it is from, it's Barry's sister that is writing to you, and I think I have the right to know what she wants to say to you." Ellen held out the letter. "Please read it," she said in & low voice. "I don't know from whom it comes, the writing is Utrange to me, and if it is from Lady Evelyn I have not the least idea why she should write to me." Curiosity was gleaming in Walter Barneith's tyes. Instinctively he felt himself relieved bom the necessitv of being ceremonious. He helped himself liberally to whiskey and soda, and drank it leisurely. Luck was certainly with him, he considered, for after this it would be perfectly ridiculous of Ellen to pretend that he must not come to Wynche Castle. The ex-but- br had given him a little description of Lady Norchester; Miriam, nevertheless, was a sur- prising experience. As 'Ellen held out the letter Miriam made a movement, as if to take it and then drew back. She gave a shrug of her shoulders. "It's Tour letter," she said, "and you'd best make haste and read it, there's some one wait- in for an answer, I'm told. You're honoured, 1 < they don't send messengers to wait for answers from me." She walked across the room as she said th,1', < and let herself out, banging the door aiter her as sho went. And as she disappeared laughed that unpleasant laugh of his. i "Queer sort, isn't she?" he said To Ellen. i But the girl made him no answer she paused i an instant, and then she too walked across the room and passed out without even glancing in his direction. In the hall outside she paused ) to speak to the butler. "The moment the motor is ready," she said, "will you please be so good as to inform that gentleman." She looked about her glancing in every direc- tion for a glimpse of Miriam. The letter was still in her hand unopened. She feit almost like giving it back to the messenger unread; but then came the swift reflection that perhaps Lady Evelyn had written to her with some special reason. She moved to the further end of the great hall, and seated herself in one of the great oaken chairs; here she was not in dan- ger of being seen by Walter Barneith when he left the library. It was very quiet; she drew a sharp breath. It was pleasant to feel this tranquil atmosphere about her even for a few moments, for she felt truly that the hardest part of her experiences at Wynche were about to come. After all Lady Evelyn had written a very simple little note. It was addressed from one of the hotels in Tornbury. Dear Miss Milner (it ran),—Mr. Varley has begged me to try and have the pleasure of see- ing you before my mother and I return to London. I wonder whether you could come and have tea with us? My mother would be so pleased to renew acquaintance with you. She tells me that she met you when you were quite a little girl, and that she was very much attached to your father. We shall be here another few days. Could you come to-mor- row? Ellen let her hands drop into her lap. The advent of this letter precipitated a sensation of great trouble upon her. Well hidden by the massive stone pillars she watched the butler go to the library door and announce that the car had arrived, and after a little pause she saw Walter Barneith come out, looking uncom- fortable. He handed something to the butler. his card, apparently, bearing a message. She could hear him speaking, but she could not catch what he said. At this moment, however, her personal annoyance at her cousin's coming faded from her. Lady Evelyn's charming little note pla-ced her m such a difficult, even a cruel position. She heard the car start and then dis- appear swiftly in the distance, and she still sat on holding that little letter in her hand, re- gretting most bitterly that it should have come, and this although the mere suggestion of meet- ing with one so young and delightful was a pleasure which Ellen could ill-afford to lose. The fact, that Lord Norchester's mother had known and cared for her father, constituted already a foundation for a friendship which Ellen dared not encourage. After a little while the butler came towards her. He was a very nice man, a servant known personally to Varley, and although he had only been a short time at Wynche there was a great difference in the way the household was managed. "I bee your pardon, miss," he said, "but the messenger is anxious to get back to Tornbury. He wants to know if there is an answer." Ellen checked a sigh as she said: "Yes, there is an answer. Please ask him to wait a few minutes longer I will go and write my note." She went back to tno library, and sat down at the writing-table. It was not a moment for prevarication; she must go straight to the truth. Dear Lady Evelyn Wynche (she wrote),— Thank you very much for your kind letter. Nothing would have given me greater plea- sure than to have accepted your kind invita- tion, but I fear that it is impossible. Please tell Lady Norchester how much I regret that I am not able to see her. Anyone who cared for mv father must always be a person of great regard to me. I hope it may still be possible for us to meet some day. She had lust written this when the door was opened, and Miriam came in again. Ellen stood up. "I want you to read hoth these letters, Lady Norchester," she said. But Miriam's mood had changed. "Do you think I care who writes to you or what you do?" sho queried rudely. "You are nothing to me. You can get letters, or write letters, or go to the devil, for all I care!" Ellen said: "Oh as one who suffers sudden pain, and she sat down by the table, and shad- cd her face with her hand. It was not possible for her to speak quite distinctly for a moment or two, then she said { "I am afraid I am wrong to stay here; it is not, of. course, possible for you to understand all I feel, all I wish to do. After all I am a stranger to you, you have the right to question my actions. I am sorry. I will go away." There was a moment's heavy pause, and then j Miriam in a stifled sort of said "No you shan't, no you shan't! I'm a beast! I—I think—I think I'm going mad!" And she broke into such a fit of weeping as was most piteous to hear. The sight and sound of her suffering touch- ed Ellen to the quick. She went quickly across the room. "Oh! don't, please don't cry," she said as she knelt beside Miriam, "and don't turn away from me. I am so anxious to help you to try and get more happiness. If there is any way in which I—I offend you only just tell me, and I will alter it." Miriam wept on unrestrainedly for a few minutes, and Ellen knelt beside her holding one of her hands. After a little while the passion of tears was spent, but her strained face waa most pathetic. "It is not you, it is all me! Everything is me Oh I wish I were dead, that I Ellen clung a little more closely to the hand she held. "You mustn't say these kind of things.' she whispered, "they—they hurt me, and you mustn't blame yourself too much; others do wrong, too." Miriam sat with her handkerchief held to her eyes for a little while, then she said: "It is silly of me, but ever since she was such a little girl I've cared for Evelyn. I used to love her, I never loved Lady Norchester She was always so stiff, so hard. She used to speak to us in the village as if we weren't the same kind of creatures as herself, and after all she isn't any different, is she? We're all flesh and blood, so why should she put on such airs? But Evelvn was never like that, she was like Harry, everybody loved them—they used to come and taik, and chat, and laugh and be just like ourselves. And you can't think how pretty Evelyn was—she was a darling. There wasn t anything I wouldn't hve done for her! It-It made me wild when I saw her handwriting, and remembered that she's never once written to me." "I believe that Lady Evelyn will write to you," said Ellen, "and I believe ono day, per- haps not very far off, she will come here." Miriam looked at her eagerly, then her face changed. "If she does come," she said, sullenly, "it won't be for me; it'll be for you" "No, you are wrong. When she comes she will come entirely to be with you. I must explain this note.' It seems that Lady Norchester used to know my father, a.nd she met me when I was a little girl." Miriam nodded her head and sighed. "Yes, you are one of their sort," she said. "It's queer that you 8ould have to come and live here as my companion. We ought to change places—you and me "Lady Evelyn has written to ask me to go and see her mother." Miriam just nodded her head. "But I have told Lady Norchester I am very sorry, but it is not possible." Swift as lightning, Miriam turned on Ellen. "It is possible—and you must go! I want you to go. I want Harry's mother to see vou— to know what you are. Perhaps there was deep unconscious in her next speech— "perhaps," she said, "she may feel a little better to me if she sees you. Now, you won't refuse; I want you to go—I want it! Wait! You haven't sent that letter—the answer to Evelvn. No, very well," she sr_ang to her feet, "write another," she commanded "write and say you will go. And go BOOn-go to-morrow!" Ellen hesitated, because she was beginning to know Miriam's moods so well she feared that this present attitude might be followed by one less pathetic and less pleasant. However. Miri- am would not be gainsaid, and so rather unwil- lingly she allowed the little note to Lady Eve- lvn to be torn up, and she wrote another one. Then intent on carrying her will through, Lady Norchester rang the boll, and gave this letter to the butler. Then she turned when they were alone together and held out her hand. "I didn't mean wha.t I said just now," she said "and, of course, I don't want you to go away. It would be pretty wretched here with- out you, I can tell yon that." Ellen took her hand, and then involuntarily she moved forward and kissed the flushed hot heek. "I don't want to leave you," she said; "but if I stay I want you to trust me." "Don't be afraid," was Miriam's answer; "you are about the only person I do trust." CHAPTER XIV. The next day the car carried Ellen into Tornbury. She was conscious of a little ner- vousness as she followed a waiter to the sit- ting-room occupied by the Dowager Countess of Norchester and her daughter, and this ner- vousness increased a little as she found her- self being greeted by a slight, very thin woman, whose manner was cold, and tone cold, too. To turn from Lady Norchester to Lady Eve- lyn was a great relief. Here Ellen met a sunny smile, and was instantly conscious of • a most delightful personality. Lady Evelyn greeted her with the greatest cordiality, and began at once to chatter about Richard Varley. The two girls were drawn instinctively to one another, and it needed very I little imagination on Ellen's part to realise that Evelyn Wynche's life ran in hone too happy a, groove. In a little while, however, her first impression of Lady Norchester WM softened. Certainly nothing could have been kinder.than the way in which she was received. It was evident that Lady Norchester and her daughter were both anxious to show kindness to Sir Pat- rick Milner's daughter. They never spoke of Wynche. however, and the name of Miriam never passed their lips; instead Ellen gave a little resume of her own since her father's I, '°., ieath, and she was touched by the gentle and very genuine sympathy which was extended to her. When she rose to go Lady Evelyn wcty: down the sLairs with her. "Yea can t think how glad I am to see you," • he .-aid. 1 have heard to much about you L».:tk and then she paused, and it. low \oict I wanted to ask you about Mir iam. Are you happy with her? Do you her very ciilhcu:t to jive with?" Ellen"oc.kwi at Lady Evelyn for an insta: ind then sli2 ea:d "I am afraH there is not v&ty much happi- ness at W ynchc just now and oitneugh Lady Norchester is practically a stranger to mc, li am very much troubled about h-T. I am very sorry for her." Lady Evelyn flushed. "Yes—that is just what Dick says. How I wish I could do something; but you se how I am placed! Mother has been very glad to meet you, Miis Milner; it is very rarely that she is so much interested as she has been this afternoon. I hate to say it, because it sounds as if I were saying something against my brother, whom I adore; but Harry has been the cause of great suffering to my mother." Then Lady Evelyn asked eagerly: "Does Mir- iam know that you .are here. and that you have come to see me ?" And Ellen answered: "Yes," and then very quietly she told Lady Evelyn what had happened. "You can realise," she said, "how it has hurt her to know that you are here staying in the town, where your old home is so ready to re- ceive you. Dear Lady Evelyn. is there any chance of bringing your mother and Lady Nor- chester together?" Evelyn shook her head, and there were tears in her eyes. "I can see none," she said; but will you take;), message from me tc Miriam. Will you tell her that I am always working to put an end to this miserable state of affairs? Will you tell her that there are no unkind thoughts in my mind, and that I am very, very sorry that I am not able to stay at Wynche. I do not think." Lady Evelyn added quickly, "that I am being disloyal to my mother in sending this message, becau-se whenever I have had the opportunity I have always said the same thing to mother." ;y "I will give your message gladly, said Ellen; but she smiled faintly. "If you could write these few words they would have such a wonderful effect. I am—I am trying in my little way to help your brother's wife. She wants help. A letter from you^ and suph a letter would be treasured by her. "I will write it," said Lady Evelyn, quickly. "I can't now, because I must get' back to mother; but I will write it to-night and send it by post." Ellen's face lit up. "Yes," she said. "that will be better still, because it will look as if it came from you spon- taneously, and so was not prompted by me." They parted reluctantly, and with the hope expressed on both sides that they might meet again very scon. "When you come to London, if ever you do, you will let me know, won't you?" Lady Evelyn said. Then she added: "I a.m going to write to Harry. I shall love to tell him that I have seen you. He told me that Dick was going to send a kind of governess to stay with Miriam, but I am convinced he had not the least idea of what you were like, and 1 believe it will be a. great relief to him if h9 can know how sweet you are and how eager you a.re to help Miriam. Unfortunately," said Lady Evelyn, "we don't know where to trace Harry! that is one thing which frets mother very much. Every now and then he sends us a postcard or telesrram. but he never writes; and though I scribble him news nearly ewry day, I don't in the least know if his letters ever reach him. But I love writing1 just the same, and perhaps he will get all my epistles in one bunch. I hope he won't stay away very long," Lady Evelyn finished. Ellen found herself echoing this wi-h, and then with another handclasp thev separated, and the car carried her swiftly back to Wynche. As she approached the house, her quick eye caught sight of Miriam walking under the trees, and she stopped the car and got out. Ladv Norchester had a. look of eagerness. even of excitement, in her face, but she tried to pretend an indifference. "So you've come back," she said. You haven't been long?" "I was afraid I'd been a very long tune, Ellen answered. She turned and strolled with Miriam, and they were silent for a moment, then Lady Norchester said: "Well, how did you get on with the old ca.t ?" "We talked of my father. Lady Norchester seems to have been very fond of him." "He must have been a great swell for her to like him so much. She hasn't got any affection for common people." Ellen would not hear the ugly note in the voice. "Most people liked my father, she said, and tears gathered in her eyes. "I wish you could have known him. Lady Norchester." "It isn't likely as he would have wanted, to know me, most surely not if he was a friend of that stuck up old woman." There was a little pause, and then Miriam sajd( in a con- strained voice, 'I suppose she didn't speak of me Ellen colouree1. She would have been so glad if she could have avoided the answer to this question, but it was impossiole. of course. "NQ" she said, and then she added. "we reallj not, say very much to one another.' "Shc^lI never, never forgive me," Miriam said in that same constrained voice. "I often think she might have been less hard on any of the other girls, but she can't forgive me. 1 suppose she thinks I did a mean trick. You see she -was good to me. I'm bound to say it. When mother died, and things were 60 awful, she took care of me; she had me taught. I dare say if I was in her place I should be just the same. She was always so proud of Harry queen wouldn't have been too good for him, and then he goes and marries me-me, Miriam Cottridge. Oh! it must have hurt badly. They walked on again in silence, and then Miriam said with her hard laugh: "\nd Evelyn? I suppose she was just the same; she wouldn't speak of my name either? "On the contrary," Ellen replied hurriedly. "Lady Evelyn gave me a message for you, but after consideration she told me that she would not trouble me to give it, as she intended to write to you to-night." Miriam turned and grasped Ellen by the hand. ,„ "Write to me!" she said; "are you Ellen smiled into her eyes. "Yes, that is what Lady Evelyn said jt before I came away. I will leave her to tell you just how she feels. I know at least that she is most unhappy that she cannot be here and that she does not see you." The change that came over Miriam's face was something extraordinary. She looked an- other woman—most beautiful in that moment. It was evident that she was feeling very deep- ly. She could not find words to express wnat was in her heart, and it was evident, too, that those words from Evelyn brought to her a happi- ness which almost overwhelmed her. In this moment of silence, whilst they paced on slow- lv Ellen heard the sound of someone following them, and she stopped. It was the butler. He was carrying a telegram. t Ladv Norchester snatched it hurriedly from ^"I'hate telegrams," she said to Ellen. ''They —they always give me a fright!" Indood., the paper fluttered in her hand as she opened the envelope, and as she read the message she turned as white as death. "It s from Dick Varley," she said. "He has had bad news. Harrv has had an accident, and they 11 bring him back here as soon as he can be moved. (To be continued.)

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. GRANNY'S LITTLE MAN. I'm Granny's man, she says I am, Her useful little Man, And true it is, 1 love her well, That sweet and gentle Gran! I love to sit beside her chair, And watch her knit so fast; I stay until she falls asleep, And drops her work at last! I'll tell you what I do for Gran, Whene'er I have the chance; Though small my deeds, I'm more thall paid By Granny's kindly glance. I hold the wool for her to wind, And never let it fall; And Granny says, of all her friends, I hold it best of all. And when her glasses hide themselves, As they are apt to do, I find them quickly more than that, The case I bring her, top. I thread her needles, find her pins, And pick up things she drops I fetch ner book, and buy her things In all the village shops. I think that's all that I can do, For boys are only boys; But one tnine more—when Granny sleeps, I never make a noise! REVENGE. Revenge is a kind of wild justice, which the more one's nature runs to, the more ought law to weed it out; for, as for the first wrong, it doth but offend the law, but the revenge of that wrong putteth the law out of office. Cer- tainly in takir revenge, a person is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over he is superior, for it is a prince's part to pardon. THE PURE SOUL. Keep pure thy soul! Then shalt thou take the whole Of delight; Then, without a pang, Thine shall be all of beauty whereof the poet sang—• The perfume, and the pageant, the melcdy, the mirth Of the golden day and the starry night; Of heaven, and of earth. 0, keep pure thy soul! —Richard Watson Gilder.

CSE BERRY'S BOOT POLISH-

.=. FOR MATRON AND MAID. WASTE OF ENERGY. A woman can rise to meet a big grief, a ter- iiic shcck, but she simply goes to pieces under 'me small, incessant, and irritating strain. And truly nothing is more nerve wearing tiia.ii toothache or similar trouble that may sound slight to mention. The woman whose nerve-? are ruffled, whose tongue is sharp, is not the woma.n who is at her best. There is an enormous waste of energy, strength, and nerve power caused by small aches and pains. Some girls pride themselves on their ability to work, no matter how they feel. Why, it is difficult to understand. There is no need to 11 endure nain. To endure it with alleviations easily obtainable is not a virtue, but positive stupidity. PUNCTUALITY. Men who employ women are often heard to say that few women are to be relied upon for being to time. "Time is money. She who steals my time steals my money." One well- known man said to a servant, who was always late, but always ready with an excuse "I have genqraily found that the man who is good at an excuse is good for nothing else." "Better late than never" is not so good a maxim as "Better never late." "Too late" can be read between the lines of many a woman who has failed. THE THREAD-BITING HABIT. The thread-biting habit is something of a. wolf story to the average woman. She hears it is bad for the teeth and may wear grooves in the edges, but nothing ever happens, so she keeps on biting whenever scissors are not handyy Not long ago a young woman gavo a hard pressure to bite off a specially tough piece of embroidering floss and cracked the enamel of her front teeth from top to bottom. Besides being hard on the teeth, the thread- biting habit is harder on fine work, and often pulls and roughens it beyond redemption. BE PREPARED. Instead of "In time of peace prepare for war" the housekeeper who is just starting should say, "In time of health prepare for illness." You must not try dietetic experiments upon your convalescent, and in order to feel sure of your- self and your knowledge of proportions, it is well to make a careful study of what is good for the invalid. As a matter of fact there are many walking invalids so far as the needs of the stomach arc concerned. FASHION FANCIES. Woollen coats as part of spring suits arc mostly long. Those of the more silky fabrics are somewhat 1 shorter. When not too elaborately trimmed, they are suitable for morning as well as visiting. wear. Braid loops, instead of buttonholes, are fre- quently seen on spring coats. Chiffon weight shantung is for the finest of summer frocks. Mohair tailor-made suits are being fashioned for warm days. Some new sleeves are trimmed with bands of different material. This band fashion is called bracelet trim- ming. Children's hats have embroidered scalloped borders of colour on white. Buttons made of fancy washing braids sewn round and round are among smart trimmings. Diagonal homespun in rich colourings is com- ing into its own again. Though many yokes are deep, the preference is given to the short round shape. For young girls suits of shepherds' plaids are being asked for. Among smart new colours is that called meri- sette; it resembles the shade of the juice of crushed wild cherry. Straw embroideries and jet braid trimming are first among dress decorations. PRETTY SUMMER FROCKS. Fashions for growing girls partake more or less of the styles that rule for their mothers, and the high-waisted gowns of the present mo- ment are generally far more becoming to them than were those with waistlines several inches lower. The simplicity of their making, too, is also advanced and the summer is likely to see young girlhood most gracefully, simply, and yet economically arrayed. A delightful model, copied in foulards as well as cottons, is a figur- ed washing material, with a circular skirt that shows only a deep hem. For the upper part of all the fulness comes from the shoulder seams where there is a little gathering, and it disap- pears beneath the high waistbelt. Cut without a collar band, a turned-back Dutch collar of white leaves, the throat free,* and bunched be- neath the chin comes a big tie bow. The sleeves are plain, and the waistbelt fastening at the left with a big buckle hangs in long fringed ends at the side. A BOTHERSOME HABIT. Most people have to be past their fit, youth before they realise what "habit" means. The wrord conveys but little to the youthful senses. Now, habit is a very good thing—when the habit itself is -ood. When the housemother forms the habit of having "a place for every- thing and everything in its place," she has tak- en long strides on the road to peace of mind. But when she forms the habit of "fussing" when any other member of the family upsets the or- derly arrangement, that is not conducive to said peace of mind, and naturally consumes time that might be better spent. "Fussing" is never worth while. HINTS FOR THE HOME. To Make Cheese Snaps, pull a new loaf when quite hot in two, take out pieces of bread about the- size of a walnut with a fork, and set in a rather quick oven to brown lightly; serve with cheese and butter. When making a jam-roll pudding, place it on the cross of the pudding cloth, roll, and tie it up in the usual way. The cloth being on the cross will give as the pudding swells in boiling, and will not burst, as it is apt to do when put in a straight cloth. For Tender, Aching Feet.—There is nothing more cooling and soothing for tired feet than a few grains of permanganate of notash, put in- to a bath or washbasin half filled with tepid water; keep the feet in for ten minutes previ- ous to retiring; has a wonderful effect. Per- sonally attested. Ironing may .be made easy by several thick- nesses of newspaper, instead of cloth being used when pressing; this prevents the shiny appear- ance which often follows the use of a damp cloth. Using a newspaper when pressing tucks in dress skirts instead of cloth will render the iron much easier in use. For Starching Gingham or Print.—Dissolve a piece of alum the size of a hazel nut to a pint of starch. This will keep the colours bright for a long time. Also, if you wish to retain the col- our of any article (flannel excepted) dissolve 1 oz. packet of epsom salts in the washing and rins- ing water. This is an excellent preventative against colour running. Aprons for kitchen use should always have the strings longer and wider than is really ne- cessary at the time, for when a three-cornered tear occurs, which is often the case, it can be mended neatly by cutting off a piece of the apron strings to put under the torn part as a patch. This will look better than a new piece of material, for the old will most likely have changed colour. Quickly Made Cream Cheese.-Quarter of a pint of cpeam, 1 oz. of grated cheese (any odd pieces you have left), a pinch of salt, a little cayenne pepper. First whip the cream till it just thickens, then gradually sprinkle in he cheese, pepper, and salt, give it another stir, to lightly mix the cheese with the cream, and serve with biscuits. The cheese should be light and flaxy when served. Berlin Pudding is Delicious.—Boil one pint of milk with a strip of lemon peel until nicely flavoured. Pour over j lb. breadcrumbs and let it eoak. After removing the peel, beat into the mixture one egg, 1 oz. of butter, and 2 oz. sugar. Butter a mould, put a layer of the mix- ture at the bottom, then a layer of jam or mar- malade. Repeat until the mould is full, but have the bread on the top; cover with greased pa- per and tie a cloth over. Boil for li hours and serve either with or without custard.

Eisteddfod Cadair Gwnt, Mawrth- Gwyn, 1909. Dymunir cydnabod derbvniad y cyfaneodd- iadau canlynoi ar gyfer yr Eisteddfod uchod:- Pryddest y Gadair. "Anian" :Cyfa..ill Bri- aill y Broydd," "Mab ei Fam," "Plentyn An- ian," "Min Haf," "Ap Gwanwyn," "Cwta Cyf- arwydd," "Min y Mynydd," "Glan Gwynon" •—8. Cywydd, "Y Ca9 Gweaiith""Twm y Gwas," "Mam y Mynydd, "Thoreau," "Ar- ber," "Arber Ail," "Seiriol Wyn," "Anghen- us," "Hen Fedelwr"—8. Can, "Merch y Morwr" :Eldridge," "Deck Boy," "Edmygydd," "Aberdaron," "Dylan Ei). ton," "Tant Serch," "Homeward Bound," "Mab Anian," "Plentyn y Don," "Gwyliedydd ar y Traeth." "Ulysses," "Awel y Mor," "Hwsmon y Fron"—13. Englvn, "Y Bwrlwm" :»-"Asaff Bach," "Id- wal," "Dafn," "Llwyd y Berth," "Dyna Fo," "Cwm Berth," 'Siriol," "Dswi," "Idnis," "Ar- thiir." "Bedo Brwynilys." "Troed y Bryn." "A B C," "Genwairydd," "Huw'r Melinydd," "Arch y Dwfr," "Ar ei bwys 'rwy'n caru byw." "Y Deryji Du," "Glowr," "Glowr II. "Y Pren Melyn"-23. Rhy ddiweddar: "Teith- iwr Blin," "Berw'r Ffynon." Traethawd, "Dyfodol C:vmru" :Gwylied. ydd," "Gwladgarwr," "Cwilym Bannau," "Un yn ei Cliaru?.4. Traethawd, "Cymeriadau Cymreig Shakes- peare" :—"Onesimus," "Orlando," "Cambria," 'Owen Glyndwr"—4. Rhy ddTwcddar "Myfyr Elyrch." Cyfieithiad. "Tro Trwy'r Wig":—"Darus." "Bannor," "Bot.m:st, "Brutus." "Gerailt yr Ail," "Merch o FaJdwyn," "Hoff o Grwydro," "Golvddan," "Aw-cnydd y Co?d." "Merch y Mynydd"-10. Rhy ddiweddar: ■ "Gerontius." Y dvad oln.! i dderbyn onwau ar v cystadlcu- acthau ereili YV7 Mai Y rue rhagoiygon [ ardderchog -m Eist^dri^ori Iwvddianus. 1. W. EDWARDS (Ysgrifsnydd). | Rhymnii Mai lleg 19.

Y GOLOFN GYMREIG a" Y Farddoniaeth, Llyfrau Cymraeg i'w hadolygu, &c., i'w danfon i'r cyfeiriad canlynol; -Mr. E. T. John (leuan Dyfed). "Glantaf." 53. Bronheuloy, Penjdarren. Merthyr. Ysgol Treheebkkt.—Da iawn pob llwydd- iant iddi, ac i'w'phrif-athraw galluog. iSfMHEK Dda.—Prydferth a chanmoladwy. Y Gyllideb.—Credwn ninnau fod y Cang- hellydd wedi cael o hyd i ben yr heol a. elwir Unia,wn, ac y gellir teithio yn mlaen yn yr un cyfeiriad mwyach, tra fyddo ar y Wladwriaeth eiaau cyllid. Pen-IJlwydd Arianw.n.—Swvnol a. meiod- aidd; boed iddi lawer cylchdco dedwydd o'r dydd. Y Gwaredwr.—Cywir a dymunol. CWSG ELLEN YN ÐAWEL-Un o delynegion byw, swynol. a barddonoi y diweddar fardd o Glan Dwyryd. Y Pell-leisydd. etc.—Nid oedd yr eegyll i fyny a'r safon yn holiol yn eu ffurf wreiddiol. Y GYLLIDEB (BUDGET). Call ydyw y cyilidydd,—rhy' y doll Ar dan y dinystrydd A rhy' ei faich ar war fydd Yn hyn yn grefydd. Merthyr Vale. E. W. CYFARCHIAD PEN BLWYDD I Arianwen, Merch Fcchan Mr. a. Mrs. T. Ð. Edwards. A.R.C.M. (Organydd Capel Salem, Porth, Rhondda). Daeth oedran Arianwen Ann Jane, megis hogen, Yn chwimwth i ben y mlyn.edd yn llawn; Ca.wn voddi arwyddion Da.w'r hwylus ferch hylon I gael ei gofalon yn gyflawn. wyres ddiwyro, Fel pe yn anvyddo Y da.w megis Athro i guro ei tha.d; Ar wedd perdonyddes. Daw'n felus gyfeiles Yn hwylus t'r cynes ddatganiad. Mae weithian wrth weini Yn srvwir iawn ini, O'i mwynlais tra'n canu fel menyw mewn bri; Er llwydd yn arwyddol Fed iddi ddyfodol Dyrhunol, fet pe tai'n M. Patti. Beth bynag yw'r gdUu Fydd yn ei nodweddu, Tra yma'n trigianu ar lwyfan ein gwlad: Bocd iddi alluoedd Dan nawdd Duw y Nofoedd, I gyraedd goludcedd gwir gariad. Pontypridd. El THAID. TYMHER DDA. (Cyfieithiad gan mwyaf o "Good Temper" yn "How to ba a Man," gan W. Nicholson.) Cheir ar y ddaear mor rhad, Nac hefyd ddim mor ddrud: Gwerth mwy na geni'n nghestyll gwlad, Nac enill cyfoeth byd. Mae'n rhoi hyfrydwch pur i'r dydd, I rin mac'n da.ran gref; Prydferthwch mwy i'r nos a rydd Na disglaer ser y nef. Mewn t'lodi rhydd foddlonrwydd llawn, Sibryda hedd i'r blin: Gras yw o'r Nef i fyw yn iawn, A chymorth meidrol ddyn. gwrdd a gwen daw gyda'r wawr, Fe'th sua i gysgu'n syw; Trag'wyddol rosyn per ei sawr I wreng a bonedd yw. swyn yrr ofid dros y don, Gwg gofal gipia draw: Try ddagrau'n wen, trist yn lion, Rhydd fwyniant ar bob llaw; Er hyn mae'n rhad fel hafddydd wlith, Oreura'r lili o bell; Nis gall un dyn feddianu byth Serch-eilun cariad gwell. Fe! enfys Duw yn gwenu'n gain, Pan ddua'r cymyl fry: Enillai fforddfel cerddgar sain Drwy ganol gwyntoedd cry'; Fel seraph gwyn o arall fyd, Dros ewyn ton rhydd lam; Ac fel gwarcheidiol angel clyd. Gwna'r bwthyn yn ddinam. Beth yw'r dylanwad rhyfedd hyn, A'n ceidw yn ddifai? Y ddwyfol hardd—y swynol synT tymher dda—dim llaL Ah dymher dda—byw berlyn mad. Hardd addurn gwragedd cu; Mewn bwthyn llwm sy'n rhoi mwynhad I Uwchlaw urddasol frio j Dowlais. Bbynialydd. ) i YSGOL TREHERBERT. I o dan ofal Mr. D. James (Defynnog), ei Phrif- Athraw. Torrodd gwawr ar ban Treherbert Pan sefydlwyd ynddi hi Ysgol ddyddiol sydd yr awrhon Wedi cyrhaedd uchel fri; M. 0. Jones, ei hathraw cyntaf— Dyn cyfoethog o bob dawjt— Fu am fiwvddi yn ben arni, Llanwodd ef ei Ie yn llawn. Ar 01 llawer o wasanaeth Gwerthfawr i ieuengctvd lu, Daeth ei fuddiol oes i derfyn— Nid yw mwy'n ei fangre gu; Cafodd arigladd dywysogaidd, Ei ddisgybiion oeddynt brudd: Gwelwyd vno lawer deigryn; Ambell ddeigryn oedd yn nghudd. • Mantell Jones er elw syrthiodd Ar un leinw'i Ie yn awr, Un yn meddu ar y doniau Goreu gaed ar ddaear lawr; Ein Defynnog anwyl ydyw Ysgolhaig o uchel fri—; Un o'r ser disgleiriaf wehr Heddyw yn ein wybren nj. Ei ddisgybiion ydynt enwog Am ffyddlondeb, fawr a man; Cipiant wobrau o dan holwvr Mwyaf medrus Gwlad y Gan; Hardd yw'r olwg welir araynt Yn yr ysgol ar bob pryd: 0 dan ofal eu hathrawon, Gemau disglaer y'nt i gyd. Dan arweiniad doeth Defynnog Yn yr ysgol ddyddiol, wiw, Cant eu dysgu gyda golwg Ar y ffordd y dylent fyw; Ar eu gliniau ymostyngant Gerbron sedd ein Dad, A dymunant mewn taerineb Am Ei fendith gyflawn, rad. Yn yr ysgol, gwersi buddiol Ddysgir fore a phrydnawn, Mewn rhifyddiaeth a. gramadeg, Gan y plant yn gywir iawn Hir f'o oes yr ysgol ddyddiol o dan ser goleuwyn nen, Mawr, tra mawr, v byddo'i llwyddiant, A Defynnog arni'n ben. Yr athrawon ydynt ufudd I'r prif-athraw yn ddi-goll: Ei lywodraetb ddoeth a thyner Gerir beunydd ganddynt oil; Pwy all beidio hoffi'r gwron, Un mor uchel yn ein mysg- Un mor llawn o ourd-eb calon. 0 fwyneidd-dra., a-c o ddysg. Treherbert. J. DttncaK. CERDD GOFF A Ar' 01 William Morgan, 147, Higlb-street, Cefn, a hunodd yn yr angeu Ionawr lleg, 1909, yr hwn oedd yn ddiacon ffyddlon yo Eglwvs Ebenezer, Cefn. Fy nhelyn leddf-gryna alargan Yn briUd-aidd ei llafar wrth son Am, golii yr hen William Morgan, Gwr hybarch a ofnai Dduw Ion Y seren lewyrchai mor amlwg Ein llwybrau, rhag niwloedd y fiydd, A gipiwyd yn sydyn o'n golwg I oror anfarwol y dydd. E: awen fynegai yn fywiog Ei natur, ci deithi, a'i ddawn; A'i galon ddiffuant oedd wresog I'r Iesu bob boreu a nawn. Esgynai lechweddau'r YegTythyr, Ac yn ei awelon mor rhydd Ehedai yn gryf fel yr eryr I olwg pyrth euraidd y dydd. Fel gwron a redai yn hoew, Neu filwr difefl bob pryd, Ei poron a roddwvd i gadw Yn nheyrna-5 prif Frenin y byd; Cefn Coed, man anwvlaf ei annedd, Lie safai ar begwn ei fryd— Y man y dwedd Gael gorwedd o olwg y byd. Er mudo yn mhell oddicartref, A threulio blynyddau'n eu hvd: Ar lariau y Tees, yn nhref Stockton, I gasglu man gregyn y byd: Dychwelodd yn 01 i'w gynhefin, Fel gwenol yn dychwel yr haf, A'i anwyl Rebecca'n ei fynwes, I orphwys ar lanau y Taf. Er gwywo gobeithion y gwynfyd Deyrnasai'n ei fynwes ef gynt. 'Roedd adgof chwareuon ei febyd, A'i fixrmur o hyd yn y gwynt; Ffarweliodd a chystudd a galar, A phechod, a thrallod, a phoen, I wledda am oesau diddarfod Ar rinwedd haeddianol yr Oen. Ei farwol weddillion orwedda Ar waelod y fangre, mewn hedd, huna ei hoffus Rebecca Hyd foreu'r adferiad o'r bedd; Er huno o'r tadau mewn gobaith— Hen gewri'r deSroad a fu, Eu henwau fo'n creu ysprydoliaeth Yn mywyd fy hen Gymru gu. EI Nai (sef Gwilym Thomas). Cefn COêd.

j A hoyse to be proud of is that where BORAX i DRY SOAP is regularly used. There's no better cleanser made. In packets everywhere.

¡ I I' 54 ) S. 54 .I You will never be short of anything you want for your cakes or puddings if you keep a packet ¡ or two of (Skeoma in the store cup- Ale I board. There are no nicer cakes or pud- dings than those made with Cakeoma—the ready*for-use cake and pudding flour. Many recipes in each 3 Jd. packet. From grocers and stores everv- where. • LATHAM & CO. LTD., LIVERPOOL CAKEOMA PUZZLES. A Booklet contaiuiog the It Cakeoma Pussies and solutions. with names and addresses of Cash Prize Winners. ,iU be sent post free to anyone on re* ceipt of request and an empty Cakeoma. Spoh^eoiti^. or Oma Sell-Raisyag Flour bag. wfr æ j M $1 I "SANtIAS DISINFECTANTS." | FOR DISINFECTING APPLICATIONS of all jH sorts, including the sanitary care of kennels, stables, Kj cellars, drains, sinks, cesspits, ashpits, hospital R| wards, ordinary dwelling as well as 9ick rooms, the gS treatment of refuse, and the purification of the nir I of banks, \yarehouses and public buildings, there are ng "Sanitas" preparations of various kinds specially Ei adapted to all the several purposes. The name or brand "Saiiitas" is the hall-mark of value for ciifiin- jSs feotant and sanitary appliances. "Sanitas" pamph- let free on app'ication to The "Sanitas'' Co. Ltd., jga Limeh«use, London, E. |q| Have you anyirsinjg' to Sell? Advertis- in our Want Columns, and it is as c toldi A I A Boon to Mothers. MOTHERS ARE WARNED against giving their babies medicines which weaken their systems and stultify their growth. Baft don't try to stop their Painful Cries by forcing them with food. Their « cries indicate ailments which can be Kj rapidly relieved and cured by ft JONES' § RED DROPS B THE HEALTHFUL REMBDT FOB B Wind, Gripes, Convulsions, | and all kindred infantile complaints. B *2T One doae decides its uniqne valne, B H ensures healthful babies, ana enables jfj H Mothers to have quiet days and restful |J Hi nights. [1 1 Keep a Bottle Handy. 1/1 £ per bottle. |;j \i- !m)m))!)!t)m To be had from the following Agents:— Merthyr, Mr. V. A. Wills, R.D.S., Chemist, 3*1 Victoria Street. Dowlais Mr. Evans, Chemist, Union street. Troedyrhiw Messrs. J. D. Jones & Son, Canton House. Beaufort.Mr. Price. Post-office. Treharris Mr. Lloyd. Chemist. liargoed Mr. l'ritchard. Chemist. Caerau. Maesleg Mr llowells. Chemist. i'ontypridd From all Chemists Tonypandy Mr. Emrys ltichards. Chemist. Llwynypia Mr. J. W. ltichards. Chemist. IVni.re Ystrad.Mr. S. S. Jame". Royal Stores. Treorchy Mr. Protlicro, Ciemist. Treorchy Mr. Uavies. Chemist. Tieherbert Mr. Kv-ans Chemist. Ferndale Mr. Eurgess, Chemist. Ynyshir Mr. Lewis, Chemist. Tylorstowrt Mr. W. R. Williams, Chemist. Ahercynon. Mr. W. C. Williams. Chemist. bl,dare Ifr. Harris. Chemist. Aberaman Mr. I. E. Thomas. Chemist. "vionntain Ash Mr. Williams. Chemist. Mountain Ash.Mr. Jones, Chemist I'tmrhiwceiber Mr. A. M. Jones Chemist. From all Chemist* IEamoed. Mr. W. Parry-Williams, Cliemisl JONES & SONS, Manufacturing Chemists, Llanidloes |R IGHT ACROSS THE BACK, j '1, NURSE ¡ JAM E8'8 PILLS. I TAKE THE i PAIN OUT, I And Cure Debility, | Nervousness, t Anremia, Hysteria, Headache, Constipation, jj ard l'Ymale Ailments. Take no Imitations. F l/li, 2/9 and 4/6 per box, post free. | j To be obtained only I From HENRY M. LLOYD, I CHEMIST, MERTHYR. j