The London Kelt

ENGLAND V WALES. Over 20,000 persons witnessed the first Rugby International match of the season at Swansea last Saturday. Both countries were able to put in the field their strongest available team, and an unusual amount of interest was centered in the event. Cheap trains ran from all parts of South Wales, and despite the very cold weather many thousands of people took up their places early on the field. The play was very even in the first half, each side obtaining a try. Wales took the lead in the second half, but having apparently spent themselves by their exertions in the earlier stages, they were completely outplayed towards the end. The final score was England one goal and three tries, Wales two tries. TOTTENHAM HOTSPURS F. LONDON WELSH. This match created a great interset amongst the supporters of both teams, and about 1,000 persons were present when R. Lee Roberts, having lost the toss, kicked off against a strong wind. The Welsh- men, who were one man short, during the first half played entirely on the defensive, and Eccles and Hunter scored for the Spurs. On resuming Shaw scored their third goal, but now the Welsh played up, J. F. Jones and W. R. Davies scoring one each, and Ambler heading the ball through his own goal from a corner placed by White, the game resulted in a draw of 3 each. The Welshmen were—G. Wilkinson, W. R. Davies, M. L. Owen, Clenyg Jones, Price White, J. F. Jones, R. L. Jones, R. Lee Roberts, R. Jones and W. Lee Roberts. The Prince Llewelyn memorial movement pro- gresses satisfactorily, and subscriptions have already been received from several influential personages. The next committee will be held at Shrewsbury, on January 24th, the day previous to the meeting of the University Court.

th' spring t' com' agen an' th' Moory Pinack t' com' along wi' th' cuckoo." She's a dern wan," whispered Mrs. Pryce in an undertone to me," nevar th' wan t' claver, let th' yarn be kaffled ivar so bad sh' '11 knaw how t' un- wind it." There was not much trouble in persuading the older woman to take a warm knitted shawl, some freshly made taffy tarts, apple jelly and new laid eggs. Judith was outside when I gave them. "Ya mean kindly na doubt," she said when she returned and beheld her mother already greedily devouring one of the tarts, but th' House is av good av charity. Mrs. Pryce's withered hand stretched involuntarily towards the basket I had brought, and she clutched my arm with feeble violence" Donna heed hur. Sh's not meanin' it," she cried. Thank ye kindly, kindly Honey." Judith came quite close to me, Sh's old," she exclaimed apologetically, Sh' wouldna hav' touch 'em once. Lav' hur hav' 'em. I shaanna touch 'em." After that I never gave Mrs. Pryce anything save when I knew Judith to be absent. Somehow I felt a respect for her indomitable pride, her stern purpose of right, which neither hardship nor poverty had power to daunt. It was some weeks afterward that I was returning from a pilgrimage to Newgale across the cliffs. It was dark, but I experienced no fear, knowing my way well, and having absolute confidence in the folks around. I was thinking of Judith when her voice struck familiarly upon my ears, Ya c'l'd nevar com' back her' th' sam' Dick. an' I caana com' wi' ya. No donna ax me. T'is hard eno' wi' out that. Thar th' old woman, I must bide wi' hur till th' end. Some day maybe ya may com' back an' then I may b' ready t' com' wi' ya." Two forms were moving swiftly before me in the darkness, and Judith's voice was soon lost in the dis- tance. When I reached Lower Solva little knots were gathered here and there eagerly talking. A small vessel bound for France had been wrecked just out- side the Haven. Ay yindeed I' be sure an' saw Dick Morris," a man was saying at the door of one of the cottages, whar he's got t' t'is a wander." Whar's Judith ? asked a woman with a jeering laugh. # # # I hastened home. So this was her romance, her life's history. When I saw Judith again she seemed more sullen, more impassive than hitherto. And the neighbours said Dick Morris had come and gone in the darkness, as befits men of his type. Judith lives with her old mother still, and works for her daily, and nobody divines save me, that she is waiting for the Lattermath, her Lattermath. And there is always a lattermath. The meadows know more than one summer. The human heart has more than one spring.