Y Brython

I 0 Lofft y Stabal. XIX MISTAR GOL YGYDD,-Ddarn mi fawr feddwl y benbleth roeddwn i'n mynd iddi hi wrth geisio profi prun ai gwir ai celwydd oedd yr hyn a haerodd fy ngliyfaill henlancyddol, sef nad oedd undyn byw ar y ddaear nad oedd o I ar adega, ac miawn rhyw beth ne'i gilydd, yn ffwd Ac yn fy llythyr dwaetha, fel y gwy. 4doch, mi ddarum gystal a rhwmo fy hun i'r un farn ag ynta, ac yn wir honni y gallwn brofi fod o'n iawn. Ond rhaid imi gyfadda ar goedd fel hyn ma dyma'r broblem fwya dyrys fu gin i rioed yn yr hen Lofft yma. Ma nghyfaill wedi gneud fy nhasg i mor anodd ag y medra fo wrth ddeud nad oedd "undyn byw nad oedd o'n lob ar adega. Mi alwodd efo mi wedyn, a 'doedd waeth heb geisio gynno fo gymedroli dim ar i osodiad. Does dim eithriad i fod," ebrafo, "ma pob dyn byw yn jjwl yn i dro," Tasa fo wedi caniatau lie i eithriada, mi faswn yn medru dwad trw'r anhawster yn rhwyddach o lawar. Bwriwch chi mod i'n gneud yr haeriad fodpob dyn yn ffwl wrth ein gwnidog ni, ne wrth berson y plwy ma, ac iddyn nhwtha deimlo'r ergyd wrth feddwl fod pawb yn i cynnwys nhw wel, mor hawdd y gallswn i gadw ar del era da a nhw trw ddeud fod eithriada i'r rheol; ac, wrth gwrs, mi gredsen yn union i bod nhw yn yr eithriada hynnu. A gallswn neud yr un fath efo erill y digwyddwn eu cwrdd. Ond fel y deudis i, fyn fy nghyfaill o phwlosoffydd -—sy'n gyf rifol am wthio mhen gwirion i i lwyn drain y broblem yma—ddim son am eithriad o gwbwl. Ma pob sowl yn ffwl," ebra fo. A pho fwya feddylia i am y peth, mwya'n y byd ydi mhryderon a f'ofna i. Mi faswn yn ddigon dewr i drafod y pwnc miawn gwedd gyffredinol, ac hyd yn o ddrwyddw-yniflawn; ddosbarthiada neilltuol o bobol. Dyn&'r- aeloda Seneddol i ddechra. Sawlgwaith v bu 'f'r Cyff redin a Thy'r Arglwyddi'n wallgof da. -adefnyddio gaircymedrol amdanyn nhw 1] A meddyiiweh am y beirdd wedyn, Yn wir' mi glywis i Jac yn deud na fu'r un gwir fardd erioed na fydda fo'n mynd o'i go iveithia, a bod y rhai sy'n ceisio bod yn feirdd ac heb fod, yn wallgo bob ams-er Un o'r dynion mwya gwallgo welis i rioed oedd rhw brydydd oedd yn byw'n y pentra ma fiynydd- oedd yn ol. Byddai'n labro dipin yma ac aew -palu gerddi, plannu tatws, gweithio cyn- haea, etc. "Bob y Prydydd oeddan nhw'n i alw fo. 'Doedd o'n dallt fawr ddim ar iaith, mwy na minna, nac ar reola prydydd- iaeth. Byddai'n anfon dama o'i waith agos i bob steddfod, fach a mawr ac mi fydda'r fath bwysa yn i waith o fel y bydda fo'n dis- gyn i waelod y gystadleuaeth bob cynnig. Ond mi fydda Bob yn mynd ar i sbri cin ac ar ol pob cystadleuaeth. Paul, 'rwy'n meddwl, oedd yn credu miawn llefaru'r gwir miawn cariad ond yr hyn y credai Bob yno fo oedd gneud prydyddiaeth miawn cwrw. Mi fydda'n yfed cwrw yn gynta er mwyn codi stê:m yr awen," chwedl ynta; ( ac mi fydda n gneud yr un peth ar ol y stedd- fod er mwyn cynhyrfu dyfndera'i enaid mawr i gondemnio barnwyr na wyddan nhw ddim beth oedd gwir farddoniaeth-" mwy nag y gwyr 116 bach sut i weindio cloc," ebra fo. We], 'does dim eisio chwaneg o dystiolaeth i brofi fod Bob y Prydydd yn nwi. Ac, yn wir,—yn enwedig flynyddoedd yn ol—'roedd llawer iawn o brydyddion yn debig i Bob. Fedre nhw ddim credu yn anfarwoldeb i drychfeddylia os na chaent i bedyddio a chwrw. A chyda golwg ar y rhain, dydw i'n petruso dim i bwndelu nhw efo'i gilydd, a'i eyfri nhw'n ffyliai.d. Ond mae na brawf arall i roi ar y beirdd. Gellid meddwl fod ybeirdd Cymreig yn cael i cynrychioli'n lled deg yng Ngorsedd Beirdd Ynys Prydain. O'r gora, ayr 'does dim eisio bod yn hir i sylwi arnyn nhw'nperfformio ar y Maen Lldg (agofaler am !) na welir y cracia sy'n 1 penna nhw. Gellid gneud prawf go gry yn .rbyn y rhain fel hyn :—Yn un peth,am i bod nhw'n gwisgo 'i crys dros i gwisg yn lie o tani ae, yn ail, am i bod nhw'n gwisgo crysa nos ar ganol dydd Cymru. Mi fydda Jac yn chwerthin yn braf am y sylw wnaeth Iolo 40narfon yn Stiniog rw dro, ar y Maen Llõg,- *l Ar achlysurfelhwn, ma Rheswm yn cymryd holide," ebra lolo. Ao rydw i'n teimlo fod awgrym 1010 'n deud fod y ffwlcyn yn dangos i big allan o'r crysa fydd am feirdd yr Orsedd. Ond i beth yr ydw i'n labro i brofi peth mor eglur! Cofiwch chi mod i'n credu fod rhai o'r dynion hyn ym mysg doethion y genedl, ae yn ardderchog o ran gallu a chymeriad ond y peth rydw i'n i ddeud, ac am ddal ato 10, ydi fod hyd yn oed y rheini, bob un ohonyn nhw, yn ystod yr amser y byddan nhw'n gwaoddi englynion ae amithia allan o'u *rysa nos,yn rhoi eyfle i'r botbxn a digri h wnnw i ddangos i hun. Ac felly, gyda golwg ar Seneddwyr a phrydyddion, dydw i'n teimlo dim petruster o gwbwl i ddeud i bod nhw, beth fcyruiag, ar adega, yn wrthgyferbyniol i fod yn gall. Rydw i'n teimlo'n bur anibarod i fynd i Uapeli ac eglwysi efo fy nghlorian, a phwyso pobol grefyddol yni hi. Ond rhaid cofio fod a dydi phwlosofiyddiaeth o'r iawn ryw ddim yn fodlon ar gymryd dim yn ganiataol, ond profi pawb a phob peth. Bwriwch, syr, mod i'n mynd i'n capal ni, ac yn deud ar goedd, Annwl frodyr a chwiorydd, ma gin i barch mawr i chi; ond rydw i'n bownd o ddeud nad oes yr un ohonoch chi'n reit gall, ond ma'r rhai calla ohonoch chi'n wallgo amball dro." Rydw i'n bur sicir y cawswn i nhroi allan hynnu ydi, mi fasa'r brodyr yn teimlo ma caredigrwydd a mi fasa fy mherswadio i i fynd, ac iddyn nhw gael rhw ddoctor.i chwilio stad y mhenglog i, a sicrhau fy niogelwch. Mi glywis i brygethwr yn deud. am ddyn a mwelodd a gwallgofdy, ac iddo fo gwarfod yno a rhw hen gyfaill heb i ddisgwyl. Helo, Tomos ebre'r ymwelydd, "sut y doist di i'r fan yma ? Wel," ebre'i gyfaill, roedd y byd yn meddwl mod i'n wallgo, a minna'n meddwl fod y byd yn wallgo ond wrth fod y byd yn y mwyafrif, mi cauodd fi i fiawn yn y fan yma." Ar yr tin egwyddor y baswn inna'n cael y nghau allan on capal ni. Waeth ichi yn y byd, rhaid i mi dynnu pobol y capal hefyd trw'rprawf. Ymhle dechreua deudwch ? Mi welis i ddau flaenor yn dadlu miawn dosbarth Ysgol Sul, ar yr adnod fawr honno, Canys felly y carodd Duw y byd," etc., ac mi aeth y ddadl yn ffrae wyllt, gyda'r canlyniad i'r ddau fod heb siarad a'i gilydd am wsnosa. Rydw i'n gosodlebal rhai heb fodyn gall ar gefn y ddau yna ar unwaith ac ma nhw'n enghraifft o lawar iawn erill, o'r un siort. A dyma brawf arall ar y saint,-nili fu helynt fawr miawn capal y byddwn i'n mynd iddo fo stalwm ynghylch cael harmon- iam yno. Mi fydden yn cynnal cwarfod gweddi arnos Lun, a chwarfod brodyr ar i ol o. Mi fydda'r cwarfod gweddi'n hwyliog a nefol- aidd ryfeddol, ond mi geid y gweddiwrs yn codi oddar i glinia i fynd i ffraeo miawn pwyll- gor ynghylch yr harmoniain--f aint oedd y pris i fod, ymhle'n y capal yr oedd i'w gosod, pwy oedd i chwara hi, etc. Mi aeth petha mor ddrwg fel y bu raid cael swynwyr tan yr enw blaenoriaid," o eglwysi erill i geisio gostwng y cythreuliaid oedd yn y pwyllgora hyn.- Y diwedd fu i'r harmoniam ddwad a chimin o anghytgord i'r eglwys fel yr aeth hi'n sblit yno. Ae ebra Jac Jos wrtha i, pan yn s6n am y peth, Wel, peth difrifol iawn,Wil, ydi crefyddwrs wedi colli i penna." Rwan, syr, rydw i'n dal ma'r un peth ydi deud fod pobol yn ffyliaid a deud i bod nhw u wedi colli'i penna." Ac mi fentra i ddeud y bydda'n lied anodd cael eglwys berthynol i'r un enwad na sect yn yr holl wlad na fuo nhw'n rowio rywbryd ynghylch canu, gosod seti, dewis blaenoriaid, ne rwbath arall. A does gin i f'hun ddim petruster i ddeud fod y bobol sy'n ffraeo a'i gilydd ynghylch man betheuach, nac ynghylch dim o ran hynnu, newydd fod yn gweddio am yr Ysbryd Glan,—fod y bobol hynnu'n ffyliaid. Ond rydw i'n gweld na fedra i ddim gorffen y dasg yn agos i gyflawn. I ba gyfeiriad bynnag yr a i, mi welaf brofion o wirionedd gosodiad fy nghyfaill phwlosoffyddol. Mae crydd yn y pentra ma, ac mae o 'n ddyn deallus a charedig, ond mae o'n ff-frl hefyd, achos mae o'n palu clwydda'n ddiderfyn, ac yn credu i glwydda'i hun Ac mae na ddyn yn y dre na'n fasnachwr go fawr. Dydi o ddim yn ddidalent chwaith ond mae clamp o ffwl yn chwara'i giapars yno fynta, achos mae o'n canmol i hun byth a hefyd, ac yn credu'r peth a I mwya eithafol ddeudith gweilch am i ogomant o-er mwyn tynnu pros o'i boced o. Wel, syr, rhaid terfynu pan yr ydw i ddim ond yn dechra, fel tasa. Falla y bydd i rywun iengach na mi, ac wedi cael mwy o I addysg miawn phwlosoffyddiaeth, orffen y gwaith roes fy hen gyfaill i mi. Mi dyffeia i o na cheiff o mo nhaflu i i'r fath benbleth eto. Tipin o hen walch direidus ydi o, ac yn duedd- ol i gymyd mantajs ar greadur syml fel fi. I Y peth sy'n blino fy meddwl i rwan ydi liyn,-Beth amdana i fhun ? Ond rydw i'n ofni nad allaf ddianc rhag y fam a roes fy nghyfaill yn erbyn "pob sowl." Mwy na hynnu hefyd ma Mari'r forwyn ma wedi fy marcio i. Wyddost di beth, Mari," ebwn i wrfhihi. Nawni,"ebrahitha." Rydwiwedi dwad i'r fam fod pawb sy'n y byd ma'n ffyl- iaid-ond y chdi, Mari bach." Dyna hi'n drychyd yn syn ama i, ac yn reit ffeind hefyd ondebrahi, Taw a chyboli, yffMgwirion Ac mi trawodd fi i lawr yn fflat do, do. Felly, dyna Mari wedi nhaflu inna i fiawn at y rhai nad ydyn nhw ddim bob amser yn gall. Bychan feddyliwn i ma i hyn y deuai ama i yn y diwedd Ond mi na i 1 y mynna i dynnu yr hen lane a'm gwthiodd i i'r trwbwl ma i fiawn i'r un cwch a minna. Nos dawch, syr. HEN WAS. D.S.—(1) Sonnis i ddim am y "beirdd newydd," a hynnu am fod pawb ond i hunain yn gwbod ma pobol wirion ydyn nhw, beth bynnag. (2) Choelia chi byth y trwch o chwys sy ar y nhalcian i ar ol imi fod yn ymlafnio efo'r pwnc dyrys uchod. Ofnaf y bydd iddo ddeud ar fy iechyd i.—H.W.

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The Passing of a Welsh I Soldier, I IT was John Jones Postman who first brought I¡ the news to Llangoronwy, the village that nestled in a little green hollow far up among lofty blue mountains—right in the heart of Wales. There was a deep misgiving in his heart as he toiled up the narrow winding path that led to the Bwthyn bach, bedded down in its little old fashioned, flowery garden, and standing close to the edge of an old chwarel. The old couple heard his slouching familiar footstep, then the tap, tap of his stick upon the slated floor as he entered the kitchen. 'Tis bad news I fear, Mary Williams," he said gravely. The little dark old woman cutting bread and butter at the Bwrdd bach gave a sharp cry of pain, and her knife fell clattering upon the floor. Then, from a shadowy corner of the old Settle, where he had been smoking contentedly, old Thomas Williams rose stiffly to his feet, and taking both letters from John Jones Postman, broke open the envelopes with trembling gnarled hands. One was a brief official intimation stating that Sergeant John Williams of the —Batt. Royal Welsh Fusiliers had been severely wounded. The other from an officer of his Company—a hastily scribbled message—was kind and considerate I deeply regret fo say that your son has been dangerously wounded in the head, and now lies at St. Omer Hospital. He was a valued man, respected by all his comrades. As you are no doubt aware he served under me during the whole of his time in India. I fear there is little hope of his recovery. Please accept my heartfelt sym- pathy. Together they spelt out the difficult English words. There was no doubt about it, no twisting or turning of thpse cold lettered syllables could alter the terrible import of their meaning. John Jones lingered regretfully in the dim, shado-wy, little kitchen, mingling sympathy with words of kind advice. Take a cwpanad o de, machgen i," Thomas Williams said dully. The old post- man accepted the cup of tea gratefully then, just as he turned to go, Mary Williams ceased her agonized sobbing. Let me go to my boy she cried, her tear-stained, distorted face, alight with a wild inspiration, her old dark eyes aflame. No words could soothe her, and no per- suasion could move her from the grim determination, Mary Williams had been a masterful, resourceful woman, all her life, and sensible, earnest, and courageous in many a crisis, she had become a power at Llan- goronwy. Moreover, her husband dared not oppose her. Thomas Williams was a good kindly soul, pious to a fault, but a mere boy amongst men, so 'twas said in the Llan. True in the little Salem Chapel he had sat in the Set Fawr for half a life-time, and upon occasions had been known to read out the Chapel Notices in a strangled, nervous voice, sometimes even venturing to offer up a short, spasmodic prayer. But in all matters except perhaps those pertaining to religion, he was entirely dominated by his wife and naturally enough, before the old Postman left the cottage, was perfectly convinced of the wisdom of the undertaking. 41 News that Mary Williams of Pant Glas was journeying to France and taking Thomas with her spread like wildfire throughout the district and upon the following morning a little crowd of friends and neighbours gathered at the station several miles distant to bid them j Good-Bye, for the brave adventurous lad who had gone forth to join the gallant Welsh Fusiliers years before had been iavourite among them. Kindly solicitous they crowded round the old couple. Here's a piece of Bara Teisen for thee, Mary bach," said one woman handing her a small parcel. And another half pound of Ymenyn fresh, said another. Dei anwyl cried John Jones Postman excitedly, here's thepregethwrhimself come to see you away." The pastor of Salem Chapel was a tall, delicate looking man. In his deep set hollow eyes was the light of a great understanding, and his voice was low and tense. So you're journeying to France, Mary Williams r" he said,placing a kindly hand upon her shoulder. May God watch over you both and strengthen you for the suffering that is before you." His words fell with a sweet balm of comfort upon the mother's stricken soul, as followed by Thomas she stepped tremblingly into the railway carriage. There was a deep respectful silence as the little mountain train slowly moved out of the station, for the Pregethwr had uncovered his hea-d, and his lips were seen to be moving in earnest prayer. Old Thomas Williams gazed back at the kind familiar faces until a bend in the line hid them from view, tears trickling down his old furrowed cheeks. Leaving Carnarvon, where they had drawn from the Bank almost the whole of the little savings of a life time, the real difficulties of the Great Undertaking began. But people were kind, so kind to the little dark Welsh- woman with the sad yearning eyes, and the gentle-mannered, respectable old countryman, who told their story so often to so many willing ears. No one laughed at the big blue handkerchief bundle, and no one sneered when the torth bach with its accompanying tiny bowl of butter was brought forth from the little market basket, while the pint bottle of milk was replenished by sacrilegious hands at various Railway buffets. Even the small tin box under the carriage seat was guarded carefully. From Rhyl to Chester a popular Methodist minister had sympathized with them and encouraged Thomas Williams in a simple religious controversy, listening deferentially to his faltering opinions. At Stafford, a brilliant-looking lady, an actress in a small way, had insisted upon their taking tea with her at fourpence a cup, even though it meant breaking into her last few shillings. For many years afterwards she remembered the strange old couple who had thanked her so gladly and addressed her so respectfully as- maw., Mary Williams bore herself bravely all along the toilsome way 'Tis only the sight of his; mother that the boy wants to mendio him," she repeated over and over again with a pathetic positiveness. Even in the great Metropolis, according to Thomas Williams, God had raised up a friend for them, for the Pregethwr at Llan- goronwy had telegraphed to a brother pastor to meet the old couple at Euston and arrange for their passports. Therefore the surging city held no terrors, and the way was made plain. The following day they crossed the Channel. .In a corner of a great hospital ward a man lay dying. Like the last flickering flame in a sodden fire, his reason burnt slower and slower until all thought and memory grew confused togther in a nebulous mist of pain. Old sounds resounded with a dull metallic clang-clang in his ears. Now and again the rocking, muffled tramp of marching men, mingling with the faint familiar creak-creak of the dormitory Punkah, seemed to soothe him into sleep, then stirring words of com- mand and hoarse battle cries would pin-prick his failing senses and goad them into action, when he lived over again through the whirl of blood and carnage. Strange pictures of the life he had just left floated wraith-like through his poor, half- shattered brain. The faces of barrack-room comrades with the words of jest and song upon their lips. Long toilsome marches along white dusty roads. Scenery, grand and glor- ious, seen under the light of an Indian moon. Picturesque, silent corners of old Bazaars, where riot of colour, glitter and tarnish lay mellowed in the golden haze of Eastern noon. Scenes of sin and revelry on deep, dark, velvety nights, the lilt and swing of waltz music played by a military band, and heard amid the perfume of countless flowers,-th-B dazzling vista of a gay ballroorn,-all of which had filled his youth ful heart in past years with a wild, fierce enjoyment. Before the end came a great calm, and, soothing his pain and bewildered helplessness, something soft and beautiful as the fluttering of the wings of a dove stole over him, he slept his last Iseep upon ea,rth,slept peacefully and exhaustedly, as a little child. It was evening when the old Welsh couple arrived at St. Omer. Travel-stained, dusty and fatigued, filled with nervous anxiety, they were escorted by a young English doctor at the hospital to the ward where Sergeant John Williams lay. A nursing sister took Mary Williams kindly by the arm, and calling her by the strange, sounding name of Madam, bade them come forward. Down through long lines of small beds they passed, where pallid, emaciated faces turned upon their pillows of pain to watch them, the little dark woman in her neat fitting bonnet and black cape, followed by the ponderous, grey-haired old countryman in his clumsy clothes tapping his heavy stick along the floor. The last rays of a summersunset bathed that ward in a softhazeof golden light, and in the corner which was just falling into shadow, they stopped. He lay stretched out before them, asleep, a fine figure of a man struck down in the first glory of his manhood. His head was covered with bandies, his broad chest- lay bare, and his big muscular arms tattooed with many strange devices were flung over the bedclothes in an abandonment of helplessness. Was this their son ? this great grown man with the bronzed, handsome, face, haggard and so sternly set in lines of strength and capability. Was this the gay, light-hearted youth who had set out down the mountain path from Pant Glas so many years ago ? The French Sister moved aside, and they both bent over him awed, and shaken by an agony of grief. Mary Williams in her first searching glance saw that not all her mother's love and prayer could ever mendio him, and then, perhaps, for the first time in her life, she turned to Thomas with weak, sobbing, appeal. "Taw ynghariadi, taw, Mari bach, "he said, tenderly, putting his trembling old arms around her. The Sister was called away, and motioning them to quietness, left them to watch alone. Mary Williams, when she felt calmer, untied the heavy black ribbon strings of her best bonnet and seated herself by the top of the bed. Soon the sunset faded quite away and dark weird shadows from the waving poplar trees outside the window flickered upon the little white bed. At last, from the brink of that grey spirit land upon which his soul was hovering, the dying man seemed to hear her murmured loving words, and feel the tender touch of her fingers upon his burning hands. He awoke slowly, fastening his eyes wonder- ingly upon her face. His lips moved. "Mam! Mam bach," he said, to her infinite joy. Do you know the old father,machgen i?" said Thomas Williams, passionately striving to stay the fleeting moment of consciousness. Yes the soldier knew them and smiled with ineffable content, for in their dear familiar faces he found a new lease of strength and security, and when in a few moments he sank weakly to sleep again, clasping his mother's hand, his mind wandered happily with hers, far afield in the realm of his child- hood's days. He was a boy at Llangoronwy again, and it was summer time. Towering far up into the azure heavens, the peaks of Snowdonia were wreathed with a mist of white fleecy clouds, and down below in the valley, the sunlight flaming upon the rich, verdant hillsides flushed the purple-pink heather into a deeper shade, pierced every yawning blue slate crevice with a quivering shaft of gold, and turned the little trickling stream which passed down through the village into swiftly rushing silver. No sound broke upon the crystal stillness mid the eternal hills, save at long rare intervals, the dull reverberating boom of blasied rock, and the rumble as of distant thunder when the avalanche of debris slid slowly down the mountain side into the glassy waters of the llyn. Don't go too near the old chwarel, cariad." He heard again his mother's voice, weighted with a tender anxiety,felt the wistful gaze of her eyes follow him as he ran joyously along the mountain path to school. As in a dream the old fascination teized hold o him once more. He was lyi»g face downwards, looking over the brink of the old qa l'ry, deep down into its stagnant jade' green waters, seeing peoples and Places and,, even palaces in its shadowy depths. Then again, it was eventide atLlangoronwy, He sat in the firelight close within the old chimney corner at Pant Glas, clad in his grey fustian stiit, a roiigh strong boy, eating from a bowl balanced between his knees, a little pottage of tatws llaeth. A deeper sleep enfolded him he was up in his corner of the llofft, and snuggling into his little pallet bed. Drowsily he heard his lather shut the kitchen door, and turn the clumsy key in its grating lock, heard the creaking of the ladder under his heavy step. His mother bent over him, shading a little dip candle with her hand. Then, with her last Good Night kiss upon his forehead, his. spirit passed into the Dark Beyond. Down the long, white, dusky boulevard they followed him next day, two broken pathetic figures, who walked alone behind a gun carriage where several coffins lay covered with the British Flag. All along the route they were the centre of sympathy, but, at the gravesi de, when the' last rites were over, Mary Williams moved with a new sbrength and dignity and there was a calm triumphant light in her old dark eyes Thomas also seemed to hold himself with a strange pride and erectness. Tliecrowdmade. way for them silently and respectfully. In the solemn words of the burial service- had come at last the glorious revelation. Military pomp and pageantry had little- meaning for them, but the prayer and piety of years, the preaching at the little Salem chapel, away in the Welsh hills, had mellowed' and chastened their souls, and now, having put their All into a hero's grave, they received' into themselves the spirit of the Great Sacrifice. They are back at Llangoronwy now, back in the bwthyn bach near to the old chwarel, and in the sweet solitude of the everlasting hills, they have begun a long waiting, a waiting for the last Re-union. In after years, when the Great War is over, when peace shall have descended upon all the world, long after Thomas and Mary Williams have been laid to rest in the little graveyard on the mountain side, their memory will remain green in the hearts of the children's children there. The traveller and the stranger too will pause perhaps beside the crumbling ruins of Pant Glas, and listen again and again with quickened breath and glistening eyes to the- story of the Great Undertaking, for in the new reign of right and liberty, when love will have purified the hearts of men, who shall say that the humblest sacrifice shall have been in vain ? GLADYS BRUCE THOMAS.

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