The Cambrian

I The ilhrush is one of the few birds whose note is as well known'in town as in country, and it is very pleasant now in early spring to hear his grand song awakening the echoes in the squares or town gardens. His song, too, is often peculiar, he seemingly having lost his wild notes and taken up another lay. In one of tihe Dublin squares at present there is a thrush that makes the burden of an almost incessant song say, "Come in! come in 1" The fun of this is that the square in questiroa^g^ private one, held. under an old chftrter^i^j though frantic endeavours haw been. the corporation^ and by the neighbourhood, to set &81t. the charter and bave the ground thrown op-- the public, they have not been euc- There is a, IIrim humour in this thrfiah, possibly an old-resident, tauntingly reiterating his invitation to "Come jn come in!' —Country Life."

SIR HENRY-IRVING. 4 I To the great world of actors and play-goers Saturday will be a memorable day, for once again England's prime actor will re-open the historic Lyceum with his wierdly powerful impersonation of "Mephistopheles" in "Faust." For many years Sir Henry's re- vivals may be aptly described as memorable, 1 for in theatrical circles it is customary to refer to events, the dates of which are beyond the ken of easy recollection, as having hap- pened in the year when Irving played "Dori- court" in the "Belle's Stratagem," or "Digby Grant" in the "Two Roses," or "Mathias," "Shylock," "Richelieu," or "Hamlet." But Saturday to many a loyal old "first-nighter" will be doubly-nay, even pathetically memorable, for no longer will the sweet voice and true womanly passion of Miss Ellen Terry thrill the packed audience through and through, no more will the spell-bound occu" I pants of box and amphitheatre alike struggle to swallow the lumps in their throats, and stifle the fast swelling tears at the story of love's hopes and fears as portrayed by the most renowned actress of the Victorian era. Another "Margaret" will occupy the boards with Sir Henry Irving in the person of Miss Cecilia Loftus, a young lady from the other side, who attracted the great trage- dian's notice whilst playing in his eon's play called "Lovelace," in New York, and no doubt is entertained that she will acquit herself satisfactorily in her new role. But to old habitues of the Lyceum, Miss Terry will long be missed. It is sixteen years since "Faust" was last seen at the Lyceum, but Eilen Terry's "Margaret" is not for- gotten. The spell which 'has bound the names of Sir Henry Irving and Miss Terry together for so long, has at last been sun- dered, and old play-goers will watch with keen interest the effect of the Lyceum's new leading lady on the great actor's impersona- tion of "Mephistopheles." Sir Henry Irving has been a popular favourite for so long that his early struggles have almost passed out of memory. The attainment of eminence in the theatrical profession is a veritable "greasy pole" to all men, and Sir Henry has had his share of difficulties and doubts at the commencement of his career, as all other great actors have had. Perhaps in no other profession is Fame's greasy pole so difficult to climb, but one thing is certain that success follows merit only, and that as sure as night follows day, a bishopric is within the reach of the curate who marries the daughter of a peer; the young medico who successfully cultivates a first-class draw- ing-room manner, may one day be phy- sician to the King, and the subalbern who fights and runs away, may yet live to be a General, but all the tricks in Christendom will not convince the great "B.P." that a man is an actjor of the first water unless he be to the business born. The successful im- personator must have a vivid imagination, must play a fictitious part which he has not himself conceived; he must be possessed of great physical and mental self-control; be | must have great powers of mimicry, and his features must be of iron, yet highly mobile; he must be well-read and of apt powers Of observation-there are no illiterate men in the front rank of the actors of to-day—and he must be a pastmaster in the arts of elocution and subtle fascinations of oratory. All these, but more especially the first and last, are the qualifications which are so highly gene- rated within the personality of Sir Henry Irving, who is, perhaps, the greatest actor who ever frod the stage. Dining with the "Savages" at a "welcome- home" dinner the other day, Sir Henry rather astonished his friends by observing that after his theatrical alarums and excur- sions to and fro across the Atlantic, "it was none the less gratifying to him to breathe again the invigorating air of his native Strand. because as they all knew, Sir Henry was born at a spot near Glastonbury in Somersetshire, on the 6th of February, 1838. Tt was, of course, in a purely figurative sense, that Sir Henry's designation of the Strand as his birth-place were used, for, as he said, "A sense of having been born iu that ancient thoroughfare is common to all actors." The illusion may be the more pronounced in Sir Henry's case owing to the fact that whilei1 -still a child his father brought him to Lon- don, and sent him to old Dr. Pinche's School in George-road, Lombard-street, from which, on half-holidays and Sundays, the future tragedian of the Lyceum invariably wan- dered down into the Strand, which was fifty years ago, as it remains to-day, the light round which flutter all the flies of the the- atrical firmament. Here, to the nostrils of young Henry Brodribb the flavour of the sawdust and the ginger^beer bottles, with which his memories of the strolling player in the West country were associated, were most! pronounced, and here he learned the gargon of the old-time exponent of the "legi- timate drama," and decided that his only hope of success in life lay "on the boards." At the school he astonished the ancient pedagogue with his snatches from the plays of the time, and his knowledge of Kean, Macready, Mrs. Siddon, and the rest of the old school of actors whose names were then familiar as household words. Henry Brod- ribb (he had not yet assumed the name of Irving) became the idol of the school, and his recitations and- readings of well-known authors were in great demand. At 14 he entered the office of an East India mer- chant, but being hopelessly stage-struck, and the work in the merchant's office being tedious and galling to the high spirits of the youtfh he "chucked his job," as Kipling would say, and went "on the road." Those were the days of the *'romance" of the stage- playing in barns and "pubs," travelling mostly on foot, with the prop- fduiig over the shoulders like a Punch and Jmlv theatre. 0/ and only occasionally "coach-borne," doing the races and fairs in summer a la Godlin and Short, and picking up a hand-to-mouth I existence from one year's end to another. History has not recorded how much of this "business" Irving saw, but doubtless there was a forecaster of it before he got his first "regular" engagement, which was in 1865, at the Lyceum Theatre, Sunderland, at which time Irving was twenty-seven ir-ars of | agQ, and had been playing with the jiura- mers of the road for some time. Ij is re- 'I corded that his appearance as "Orleans" in "Richelieu" was a failure, and that his second appearance as "Cleomenes" in "A Wintel'¡¡ Tale," he had stage fright and boltjd, tiiaugh, fortunately, he had sufficient resence of mind to scream out to the remaining actcr on the stage, "Come on to the market-place, and I will tell thee further, which was, of course, a quotation from another play, but was sufficient to cover his retreat. Irving's experience of the drama in provinces continued with varying luck for about two years, and then, through the instrumentality of Johnny Toole, he made his first appearance in London. The part I was but a small one, however, and Irving returned to the provinces, where his many clever impersonations had made for him a I name, and where he was always certain of I a livelihood. Many years have passed away, but still Johnny Toole remains Irving's closest friend. "Johnny" has, of course, said "Good-bye" to the stage for ever, and has retired into a snug little villa by the sad sea waves to linger upon his laurels; and the happiesti hours of his life are when his old friend of the Lyceum runs down for a week- end, and tales of the stage, and the ups and downs, and the freaks and follies of stage life are resuscitated and laughed over again and again. Toole was the first actor of Lon- don experience to give Irving a,helping hand, and the Knight of the Lyceum has never forgotten the fact. In his heart he cherishes a warm spot for Johnny Toole, and the affection is returned to the full. Every year, in chill October;, when Irving and the Ly- ceum Company sail from Tilbury for the United States, the great actor finds in his cabin on arrival at the docks1, a beautiful array of autumn roses, set in a large basket, representing an ancient galley with se.t sail, and inscribed, "Good luck, and God bless you. yours truly-Tooley." Irving first became recognised as a man of unusual ability by his appearance as "Dori- court" in "The Belle's Stratagem" at the St. James' Theatre; and subsequently as "Rawdon Scudamore" in Boucicault's "Hunted Down." Between this and the pro- duction of "The Bells" at the Lyceum, Irving played many parts, but it was the latter piece that placed him in the front rank of the actors of the time. His first appearance at the Lyceum was in a play called "Fan- chette," in which the actor had made but a sorry show. After "The Bells" came Mr. Will's "Charles I. which ran for seven months, followed by "Eugene Arum," by the same author; and "Richelieu," which had a run of 120 nights. The next year he played "Hamlet" for 20Q nights, and later on "Mac- beth" for 80 nights. Irving had now become the central figure at the Lyceum, though he did not attain to its management till 1878. Here Henry Irving has made his name world- famous, and that of his theatre. Here he has done his best work, and his worst; his best in such parts as "Mathias" in "The Bells," 'Louis XI. "Hamlet," "Shy- lock," "Richard III." "The Vicar of Wake- field," and the ecclesiastic, "Wolseley," "Richelieu" and "Becketa"; his worst in the great heroic parts of "Macbeth" and "Othel- lo" in the terrific character of "Lear," and in the terrific character of "Lear," and in the Passionate "Romeo." The great actor, Sal- vini, writes of Irving in his autobiography with warm praise, but adds: "He should, however, for his own sake, avoid playing such Parts as "Romeo" and "Macbeth," which are Hot adapted to his somewhat scanty physical IUld vocal powers." Irving's pourtrayal of Coriolanus last year was but another illus- tration of the great Italian's text. $ir Henry has been described by one humorous biographer as an American actor I who is sometimes seen in Britain, and cer- tainly during the last decade there has been Wnple justification for the soft impeachment. Sir Henry's doings during the last twelve months' may be taken as a fair example of his annual programme for several years past. lie opened the Lyceum at the end of April last with "Coriolanus and Volumnia, and closed, after a week of revivals, on July 20th. On October 5th Sir Henry, with Miss Terry anjd (the" Lyceum Company sailed in the Minnehaha for New York; they have now re- turned, and will re-open at the Lyceum with "Faust" on Saturday. During the past twelve months, therefore, Sir Henry has been seen in this country just twelve weeks. But. of course, tihe great actor cannot be blamed for his undisguised attachment to our bro- thers across the Herring Pond. His tours through the States are like a triumphal pic- nic, and all Americans clamour to honour him. Her millionaires are proud of his presence at their table; her great societies delight to inscribe his name upon tileir rolls of membership; her universities plead with him to deliver their annual lectures; and last, but not least, the shekels roll in in a merry and golden stream, with here and there a veritable windfall of dollars tumbling and rumbling, jumbling and stumbling like the falls of Lodore. Sir Henry cannot, wit- ness to the truth of the axiom that no man l finds honour in his own country, but foolish I indeed would he be did he turn a deaf ear to the storms of applause with which our American cousins invariably greet him. J FREDERICK ANNESLEY.

LITEIrARY BUREAU. NOTES ON NEW PUBLICATIONS. I Mr .R. E. Hughes, of Swansea, who is one 1 of his Majesty's Inspectors of School, has written a work entitled, "The Making of I Citizens: A Study in Comparative Educa- tion," which is to form a volume of "The Contemporary Science Series," published by The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd. In this book the primary and secondary systems are described and diagnosed, and special chapters are devoted to showing what is being done for the education of girls and defective children in England, France, Germany, and America. The volume should prove very in- teresting, as it claims to be a complete and comprehensive account of both our own and foreign systems, based not so much on in- dividual impressions and opinions, as upon an exhaustive study of authoritative and official data. An important new art publication is that of Messrs. Cassel and Co., entitled, "Sporting Pictures," Part I. (Is. net.) of which was published on Wednesday last, and is now before us. The pictures, the first instalments of which comprise "Well Away," by George Wright; "Suspense," from the picture by Archibald Thorburn, in the art gallery of the County Borough of Blackburn; "Up to Time at the Lion," by G. Goodwin Kilburne; and "A Dash on the Goal-line," by Ernest Prater—are an improvement upon "The Na- tion's Pictures," which brought Messrs. Cas- sell's such universal fame, and which were admitted to be the finest example of chromo- photographic printing that had yet been produced in Europe. The plates of "Sport- ing Pictures" are larger,, and mounted on art paper (17in. x 13in. in size), which is specially adapted for the purpose of giving the most artistic setting to each print. It is claimed that, when complete, the new work will form a gallery of sporting prints superior to anything produced in this country since the days of Aiken and Herring. The whole of the plates are reproduced in colour from modern original drawings and paintings by well-known artists, whose repu- tation is established in the field of sporting art. Every subject of importance connected with our National sports will be illustrated, prominence, of course, being given to those hunting scenes and incidents which are so dear to the present generation as to the English- man of the last century, as well as coaching, the most picturesque of all modes of travel, to which happy old days our special, con- tributors—"A Native' and the Rev. Peter Rughes-Griffiths-have referred in fondly terms. The letterpress 'descriptive -of the various scenes depicted, is printed separately from the plates, and is from tche pen of that well-known writer on British sports and pas- times, Mr. B. Fletcher Robinson. In the general production of the work the publishers have had the advantage of the co-operation of Messrs. Savory, of Bristol), the work being edited by Mr. E. Savory, of that firm. Re- membering how much in excess of expecta- tions was the demand for Part I. of the "Nation's Pictures" our readers will do well not to lose any time in placing their orders for tihis work. The Board of Agriculture announce that the Ordnance Survey (Southampton) have recently published a. folding pocket map of Rhyader and the surrounding district on the scale of one inch to the mile. The map, which is printed in colours on sheets 18in. x 12in., and mounted on canvas, is in outline with contours tlie hill features being printed in brown. It is useful for general. topo- graphical purposes, and it should prove ser- viceable to cyclists and pedestrians, since it shows the roads, indicating their character and whether metalled or not, footpaths, hills, rivers, towns;, villages, railway stations, and local boundaries. Its price, in a cover, is Is., and it may be obtained through any book- seller. J-C.M.—«'Thanks for "Glimpses, etc." It will be noticed in due COUXM.

PROVED BY EVIDENCE.-Dr. Williams' Pink Pills are shown by evidence well authen- I- ticated to be an unfailing cure for rheuma- tism, sciatica, neuralgia, paralysis, locomotor ataxy, St. Vitus dance, nervous headache and indigestion, also diseases of the blood, such as scrofula, chronic erysipelas, etc. They are a splendid tonic and restore pale and sallow complexions to the glow of health, a specific for all troubles peculiar to the female sex, and in men effect a radical cure of all cases arising from worry, overwork or excess. Dr. Williams' Pink Pills are sold by all chemists, or may be had direct from Dr. Williams' Medicine Company, of 46, Holborn Viaduct, London, at 2s. 8d. per box, or six boxes for 13s. 9. They are never sold loose, and any substitutes so sold are useless; the wooden box must be in a pink wrapper bear- ing the full name Dr. Williams' Pink Pills for Pale People. The story of a Welshman's cure,, told in another column, has created widespread interest.

DRINK JJORNIMAN'S JHJRE FEA. In Packets only, and Full Weight without Wrapper. Always good alike. PRICES—1/4 TO 3/6 PER LB. Sold in Swansea and District by- TAYLOR & Co., Ltd., 6, Castle-square; 99 Oxford-street; 100, Brynymor-road 33, Walter-road; and the Dunns, Mumbles. HEAD, 69, Gorse-lane, Swansea. BONNETT, 7, Heathfidd-street, Swansea. CO-OPERATIVE SOCIETY, 9. Portland-st., Swansea. CLARK, Grocer, 77, Oxford-street, Swansea. DAVIEs, 167, High-street, „ DAVIES, Grocer, Rhondda-road, LEWIS & Co., 8. College-street, JONES, Grocer, 64, Llangyfelach-st., MOORE, 14, St. Helen's-road, WATSON BROS., Grocers, Brynymor-rd., Swan sen. WILLIAMS, Grocer, 58, Oxford-street, BEVAN, Chemist, Hfnrriston. MORGAN, Grocer, LEWIS, Grocer, Herbert-street, Poutardawe. EVANS, Grocer, Alltwen, DATIES, Groeer, Clydach. JENKIN BROS., Ltd., Drug Stores, Clydacb. EDWARDS, Supply Stores, Abercravo. WILLIAMS, Grocer, Blackpill. DAVIES, Grocer, Llansamlet. DAVEY, Grocer, Hafod. Ev ANS «& THORPE, Brynmill. BALDWIN & WAPVL, The Stores, Mumbles. EVANS, Tea Dealers, Mumbles.

THEY SANG HIlOYE, SWEET, HOME-" The arrival of the King at Sandringham House last week was attended by a pleasant incident. A party of Welsh glee singers, engaged at Lynn, bad driven over to Sand- ringham to witness his Majesty's arrival, and waited near the Norwich Gates. When the motor car, with the King and his guests, approached the party sang "Home, Sweet Home," and hIs Majesty, who ordered the car to stop, appeared very gratified at the impromptu choral reception.

THE FARM AND GARDEN, GAPES IN POULTRY. I Large numbers of young chicken are an- nually destroyed by the disease generally known as gapes. Unfortunately the symp- toms of the trouble are too well known among poultry keepers to need any descrip- tion. Gapes is caused by a small reddish coloured worm found attached to the lining of the windpipe or air passage of an affected bird. The pests subsist by sucking the blood of their host, and so set up inflammation that is frequently fatal when chicken are inclined to be weakly, as they generally are, unless allowed a very large run. As many as thirty worms have been found in a single fowl. Infection may be effected by eating earth worms infected by the pest, or by picking up gape worms coughed up by other fowls. The best preventative measures are to keep the young chickens on dry, uninfected ground, and to maintain the highest possible state of health by giving nourishing, suitable foods, and allowing plenty of freedom. Two methods of dislodging the enemy are prac- tised. The first consists in introducing a looped horse hair into the windpipe, giving it several turns there, and then slowly with- drawing it. The dislodged worms are coughed up by the fowl. The other plan is to insert a feather moistened in turpentine, which makes the worms loosen ttheir hold when they are speedily coughed or sneezed up. AN EGG PRESERVATIVE. A really reliable egg preservative that will enable the thrifty house-wife to preserve eggs in spring and summer, when low prices are the rule, for use during the winter months has long been a desideratum. The various means hitherto adopted to ensure the desirable end in view have been more or less ineffectual, but the long-sought agent has at last been discovered in the form of sodium silicate (water glass)., which is a semi- fluid syrup closely resembling thick sugar syrup in appearance. When this has been diluted with 20 parts of water the eggs are placed in it and sink to the bottom of the liquid, where they remain fresh and good, as laid, until wanted for use some eight months or so later. As a matter of fact it is quite impossible to distinguish in flavour between eggs so preserved and those just laid, and it is worthy of note that when taken out of the solution the eggs are also perfectly fresh in appearance. There is one poinb re- quiring special attention, and this is that the shells of eggs preserved in a sodium sili- cate must be punctured with a needle before boiling, as the chemical has sealed the pores of the shell, which, therefore, necessarily splits unless it is punctured. MANGEL MANURE. The magnitude of the crop depends prac- tically on the richness of the land. A heavy dressing of dung-20 to 30 cart loads per acref—,is the best mangel manure, but it should be applied before winter, because spring dressings, especially of insufficiently decomposed manure, tend to make mangels rooty, and by their late action to retard maturity and lower nutritive value by in- ducing too much young foliage growth dur- ing summer at the partial expense of the sugar and other nutrients stored in the roots. Liquid manure is specially beneficial to man- gels. When applied after sowing it must not come into contact with the foliage lest the soiled leaves scorch, and the yield be proportionately reduced. The action of nitrogen is very favourable to the mangel crop, nitrate of soda applied partlly as a top dressing giving the most marked results of any chemical fertiliser. The action of phos- phoric acid is less than on turnips, but it improves the quality of the roots by inducing earlier maturity and greater solidity, and by increasing their nutritive value. Potash fertilisers are specially necessary on light and peaty soils and uplands. Kainit which also contains some 33 per cent. of salt, the usual form of potash for roots, should be applied a considerable time before sowing, as latfe dressings of potash salts occasionally inju- riouly lessen the formation of sugar. About 3 cwt. per acre of salt is beneficial, especially on dry soils and in dry seasons, but it must not be allowed to come into contact with the seed. In our opinion the most satisfactory for- mula for artificial fertilising of mangels is- 1 to li ewts. nitrate of soda (half as top dres- sing), 1 cwt. sulphate of ammonia, 4 to 5cwts. superphosphate (or 6 cwts. basic slag for heavy land), and 2i cwts. kainit (applied some time before sowing). RADISH. A proportion of well-decayed mellow dung is essential for rapid growth and good flavour. Continue to make successional sowings until November, scattering one ounce to two square yards of ground. Cover with about; an inch of fine earth. On light soils make the sur- face firm with the back of a spade. Protect all sowings from birds. Earliness and rapid growth are of the utmost importance. Early thinning is vital, as crowded plants produce large tops instead of roots. In very hot weather the beds should be lightly shaded. Water liberally. Large roots are not desir- able, small, crisp, and quickly-grown ones being alike more elegant in appearance and of more delicate flavour. The flesh only thatr is next to the rind of Spanish radishes should be used, the centre core being rejected. Long scarlet short-top, long scarlet white-tipped crimson French breakfast, and early red and white turnip and olive-shaped kinds are all suitable for exhibition. Roots should be young, firm, clean, crisp, brilliantly coloured, of uniform size, and with very small tops. Radishes mature in about five weeks. The thorough preparation of a finely-worked, rich, sandy bed is the best means of ensuring hand- some and shapely radishes. SHALLOTS. It greatly facilitates complete ripening to gently draw away the earth from the cluster as the season advances. Lift the crop in dry weather when the leaves turn yellow, about July, dry in the sun for a few days and store it in any dry and well ventilated shed or cellar, to complete the process of ripening in safety. SPINACH. Deeply worked good loams are best, but excellent crops can be secured on retentive soils and clays that have been well tilled. Moist, rich ground is essential for summer crops. The more richly manured the soil, the less likely is the crop to "bolt." Make small and frequent sowings in drills an inch deep and a foot asunder through the spring and summer, using an ounce of seed to a bed of five square yards. Thin out the plant of the spring and summer sowings early to six, and finally to 12 inches apart in the rows. Hoe lightly between the plants to keep down weeds. It may be necessary to shade summer crops from the heat of the mid-day sun. Take two or three of the largest leaves at a time from each plant, directly they are big enough for use. At the first appearance of flower stems cut the heads right off. When well- grown and cooked, spinach is one of the most wholesome and palatable of vegetables. NEW ZEALAND SPINACH. This variety is exceedingly valuable in hot summers, The seed is sown in early April under glass, or on the open border in May, the seedlings being placed out three feet apart 111 light, sunny beds. Abundant water is required. PERPETUAL SPINACH. Spinach beet (or perpetual spinach) is sown during March, April, July, and August in ^ra 0t .aPart in very rich roil, and the s alings thinned out or transplanted early to allow plenty of room. Treat liberally, and Bother fohe leaves as they become large enough for use. 8 TOMATO. Any gritty, turfy or fibrous loam will do admirably,, but a rich, rather loose garden loam, to which a fourth or fifth of good, Well-rotted manure is added, is the best possible soil. Leaf-mounld and thoroughly decayed manure are beneficial if used in strict moderation. In the case of pot-plants, it is well to place a thin layer immediately over the crocks in the bottom of each pot, but otherwise no fertiliser should be applied until the fruit is well set, and beginning to swell, when occasional doses of weak liquid- manure will materially assist in the produc- J tion of large tomatoes. For house, culture --v maintain a temperature of 60 to 65 degrees at night and 75 degrees by day, and prick out the seedlings singly intio small pots directly they have made two leaves. Keep the young plants short and stout by placing them on shelves near the glass, and move them to larger pots as required. Fruit the plants in eight or ten inch pots, which are specially well drained, or in beds 18 inches wide and six or seven deep. Place the plants from 18 inches to two feet apart, and train the main stem of each up to a stake or wire a foot from the glass. Systematically pinch out all side shoots, and it occasionally be well to remove part of a very large leaf to admit more light to ripening fruit. Though the roots must on no account} be allowed to want for water,, the atmosphere should ai- ways be kept dry, as much air being admitted night and day as may be consistent with safety, and especial care must be taken not to water too freely, especially on dull days. In damp weather fire heat will be necessary, even in summer. Tomato flowers must always be hand pollinated or fertilised, as the fruit seems to be increased in size by a liberal application ot pollen. The best plan is to collect the po!len in a spoon or ladle at mid- day, when the sun is bright and the house dry, and to touch the end of the stigma with the dust. Sturdy plants are also hardened off, and planted out into deeply worked soil during May. With the exception that arti- ficial fertilization is not needful, out-door treatment differs in no material respect from house-culture. Pinch out the top of the main stem when it is as high as the stake. Perfec- tion and chemin rouge are splendid kinds for exhibition. Fruits should be smooth, bril- liantly coloured, and of good uniform size. Varieties mature in about 22 weeks. If very large tomatoes be required, the clusters must be thinned out to the first two or three fruits that set. TOOGOOD AND SONS. Southampton.

FOREST LABOUR IN WEST WALES. BONCATH ARTISAN'S NOVEL EXPERIENCE. Mr. Gladstone's hobby for tree-felling was adopted for pleasure and amusement; but there are hundreds of men in this country compelled to work hard—"mute inglorious Gladstones"—at wood-cuthing for a livelihood. Surprising changee have been wrought in the wooded districts of North Pembrokeshire, during recent years, by the forest labourers. The centre of these operations is the village of Boncath, where the renowned timber mer- chants, Messrs. E. Robinson and Co., employ several hundred hands. Wagons heavily laden with gigantic trunks can be seen daily on their way to the railway station, to be sent to every part of the kingdom. The wood-cutting trade is not without its drawbacks and hardships. A representative of the "Pembroke County Guardian" re- cently interviewed one of these workmen-a jovial young man-who talked entertaimgly of the subject. MR. V. A. CIREL (From a photograph by S. Bowen, Bravery, Cardiff.) "I am a native of Cardiff," he said. "Victor Alexander Cirel by name, ana shall be twenty years of age in July next. I am single, and at present reside with Mr. G. Letherby at The Cottage, Newchapel, near Boncath. My particular trade is that of boxmaker,—manu- facturing boxes for the tinplate industry. The work is hard, requiring great strength, and has to be done in the open air, often in the depths of the forests. I shall never for- get the months of November and December, 1901, when I happened to be employed in a wood near Eglwyswrw. I had a long disr tance to walk from my lodgings to worl'i and before long I began to feel very tired of walking, and suffered from extreme weakr ness after the least exertion. Presently j was unable to walk to my work, and I dilY covered that! I laboured under a very severe ailment, which I can only describe as aris- ing from great impoverishment of the blood, giving rise to a. severe skin disease. No one's blood could be more impure than mine, and its evil effects appeared all over my body in the shape of pimples, sores and spots. I tried some opening medicine every morning for a, long time, but it did me no good what. ever. My body itched all over, and my face was so pale and sallow that I looked like Death. I hAd no appetite at all, and life was a burden. One Saturday evening, I happened to read in the "Weekly Mail" that a case similar to mine had been cured through taking Dr. Williams' pink pills for pale people. I lost no time in ordering a box of them, and in less than a week my health had visibly improved. When that first box was finished, I sent for another, and when I had taken about half of that one, my constitution had re- gained its usual vigour. By the time the second box was finished, I was completely cured, the pimples had disappeared, and my appetite returned." "And does your state of health continue to be satisfactory P" queried the reporter. HYei," was the smart reply, "don't you think I look healthy and strong? You would not know me now, if you had seen me when I was ill. My blood, too, is a rich red colour; I know this because I cut myself occasionally owing to my trade." "Have you any objection to these facta being published, Mr. Cirel?" asked the Pressman. "Objection! not the least," was the answer, "I am quite willing that you should publish all the facts concerning my case, so that some fellow-sufferers, probably unknown to me, should know what Dr. Williams pink pills have done for me. Any information I can give on the subject will be gladly given, and I have already advised some friends of mine to buy and take the pills, and they have also benefited through them." As the reporter prepared to depart, a musi- cal instrument case which was in the room drew his attention. "Do you play the violin, Mr. Circle" in- quired the interviewer. "A little, sir," was the unassertive re- sponse, "and now that I have been made a new man thanks to Dr. Williams' pink pills, I shall in future play my favourite instru- ment with more pleasure than ever, while remembering my miraculous cure."

A BORDER OF BLUE FLOWERS. During late summer and autumn yellow is such a predominating colour in the flower garden that a border composed almost en- tirely of blue flowers comes as an unexpected surprise, and gives a charming and delightful effect. If the border is situated in a partly- shaded position the effect is enhanced, as this colour is not seen at its best in a strong light. Last year (writes Hugh A. Pettigrew, in "The Garden") I arranged such a border. Throughout the whole length I placed sup- ports of sticks-some cone-shaped, others up- right, and some almost recumbent—around which I planted blue varieties of sweet peas, blue convolvulus" and iponyea rubro- cosrulea. These were so arranged as to avoid any formal design, while in addition I had poles covered with clematis jackmani group;* of hi UP campanulas, lobelia, phacelia, blue -v. river daisy, trachymene ccerulea, blue %erbenus, lupines., cornflower, heliotrope, and a few other peren- nial plants completed it.

BUKWICK'S BAKING POWDER, -—z- EM"™E, This is celebrated Manufacture has been wellkDowa for nearly 60 years. When ordering Baking Powder insist on having Borwick's. Brad at* Pastry For CAKF" tobkshjre pubdjngs gingerb read, &c •

(Copyright.) I WHO KILLED CONNIE J BURT? By GUY boothby, A ntnnr of "Dr. Nikola," "A B¡d for Fort'IT\A "The Marriage of Esther." "Pharos .I,. Egyptian," "Long Live the King," "il;, Indian Queen," &c. CHAPTER L Most; people seemed to think that the Orilvif- Gardiner engagement was a desirable one in every way. Maurice Ogilvie was a baronet, the last of a long race young, good-looking, and, as the saying goes, without a penny wherewith to bless himself. On the other hand, hisfianrif. Miss Mabel Gardiner, was the only daughter of a millionaire, who had worked his way 10 fortune by means of a patent blacking, that, some people said, was as worthless as it was in- expensive. The girl was just twenty, pretty in Jin unpretentious way, and by no means as socially ambitious as were her father and mother. As soon as the engagement was announced, old Gardiner informed the Press that it was his in- tention to present the happy pair with a hundred thousand pounds on their wedding day. Where- upon, society, which very naturally hoped in an indirect way to participate in the good thuitrf such a sum would bring, said: "How delightful, and how tcry good of him I The girl her- 'self, however, was not the least in love with her future husband. Though he did not know it, she was breaking her heart for love of a somewhat austere cousin in the North of Eng- land. As for Maurice Ogilvie, he didn't bother himself by giving the matter very much thought. He knew he must do something to remedy his fortunes. He was up to his eyes in debt. Ho had mortgaged every acre of land he possessed, ar.d it seemed to him that if he had to get money, it would be better to obtain it by marrying an heiress than to do so in any other way. "I suppose when we're married, we shall manage to shake down somehow," he said to himself, on one of the few occasions that he gave the matter serious consideration. "To my mind, matrimony is like putting a couple of strange horses together in double harness. At first, they run a bit rough—one hugs the pole, and the other gets as far away from it as possible. They don't understand each other's paces, and when you set them going there is every prospect of a smash. Then, little by little, they fall into each other's ways, forgd. past differences, and go ahead as if they'd been running together all their lives." f It was not an intellectual way of looking at the matter, but it shewed some knowledge of the world. 1 Affairs having been satisfactorily arranged, Maurice purchased a handsome diamond ring, Maurice purchased a handsome diamond ring, and, having discovered a fitting occasion, placed it on the third finger of his betrothed's left hand. So far as ho was able to see, that was all that the present required of him. Love- making he did not believe in! At least, not in that particular quarter. i On the second day after his engagement was made public property, he returned to his chambers after luncheon, to discover a note upon the hall table. I "Ah," he said, as he picked it up, "I thought as much. Now, if I'm not mistaken, the fat will be in the fire. I wonder how she will ,take the news ? In all probability, if she turns nasty, there will be a breach of promise case. II wonder what old Gardiner would say to .that ? I Opening the envelope, he withdrew the con- tents and perused them. f "My dear Maurice," the letter ran, "I saw some nonsense in the paper this morning about your being engaged to a Miss Gardiner! What |rot these newspapers do hold of They'll be saying that I'm going to be married to a Duke, or something of that sort, next. How would you like that, my boy ? Though I didn't ■ plieve it, I don't mind saying that that ) wagraph has given me a bit of a turn. Send *M6 a line to say there's nothing in it, there's a ood boy. When are you coming to see me ? 1 haven't set eyes on you for days.-Ever your affectionate COlfft8 FtATTAGzncT." Miss Constance Amelia Burt, better known to the music-hall world as Connie Plantagenet, the famous serio, had had the good luck, or misfortune, as you may consider it, to attract the young man's attention some three years or so before the story opens. It was one of his chief regrets in life that, on one occasion, he had been decoyed into writing her a certain letter, the contents of which he could not for the life of him remember, and which she had .Ter since obstinately refused to divulge. I "If there's going to be a smash," he (observed, "it will be that letter that will bring it about. Thereupon he expressed a wish that the whole matter might soon be settled and done with. He knew very well that if ever it carne into crmrt, it would cause a stir such as London had not known for many a long year. I That afternoon, between four and five, he mounted his hack and rode leisurely down to the Park. You must understand that he was a handsome fellow, and also a gsnernl favourite. Many a pretty face looked up at him in mute approval as he walked his horse quietly down the Row, and more than once he was obliged to pull his animal up to receive the congratula- tions of his friends upon his two days' old engagement. "So you're hooked at last, Maurice, my boy," said the young Lord Laithbridge, who had just been declared bankrupt, and who had iron the reputation of being one of the most j desperate gamblers in London. "And to some >purpose, too Gad t I wish somebody would hunt up an heiress for me. I've half a mind tto go across to the States this autumn to have look round. The worst of it is, I am only a miserable Viscount. If I were a Duke, I might be worth half-a-million. However, even a hundred thousand would come in handv just slow. 11 I Maurice made some jesting answer, and then froceeded ou hia way once more. >Jear the ovvder Magazine, he came upon Miss Gardiner mounted on a handsome bay, and escorted by younger brother. 1 "Good-ai'ternoon," she said, a little timid!c, I" he rode up and bowed to her. "Are you .ware that you are a quarter of an hour late ? » "I am exceedingly sorry," he answered. "I must apologise most humbly. I had no idea i.f it. tie macy people have stopped me in the Bow to congratulate me upon our lhat I began to think I should never get here «t all." I She did not answer. Her face was a little r»le, and she looked down at the handle of her unting crop as if she were anxious not to meet his She was thinking of a certain •despairing fetter she had that day received, and '•^rhich was now lying concealed near her heart, -and of the author of it, who was a hard- working and struggling solicitor in a North- country town. t "Oh, why," she asked herself, "had -he not 4he courage to talce her fate in her hand' nul tell Maurice everything ? He was a gfii! h-M.-m, ••and surely he would release her when he knew that she did not care for him. and i ha; her heart was given to another ? The -hame o:' this Joveless union was with her day and n:t. She "was quite aware that he was only i7tnrrvii>» her for the hundred thousand pounds her fat her Prepared to pay down on the weddi'iir day. You are very quiet this afternoon," said Maurice, as tfcey turned (he corner. L hope yon are not unhappy ? What do you gay to a canter 9 J She willingly acq"iesced, and away they went. ThO spectators at the rails admired Maurice's •••y teat, and the manner in which he managed his borse. Those who knew him doubtless env I'd him his good fortune. a young couple as one "Would wish to find," said General Wjnterhale, ;*n ancient warrior, who prided himself upon jkis knowledge of human nature, and who U, -wont to declare that he could see further through t* brick wall than his i-eightouis. I he has not given her a hiaujry of the last Un Tt) i,,i y kn .years of his life To my Uj|1K|t ^'s belter to postpone such explanations until after marriage -particnlarly wh-a titere s a hundred thousand ill tite The cynical old "hook his head knowingly, and to greet Dowager Lady Porches:er, who knew as 1I1111'h ■of life as he d: a■; I ,"ay possibly, a good deal more. IVy Nej in a shadv (pot, and for upwards of half-an-hour amused each othar by picking their friends to pieces, ind in sowing the seeds of discord as thickly us two ev ly-disposed people could do it. In th, meantime de young couple had cOntinu6C their ride in the direction of the Corner. foung Gardiner, who had probably been preT: msly instructed by his mother, made 4 point ol riding at a discreet distance behind rhe others lie had boasted that morning to certain ju enile friends that Sir Maurice Ogilvie was going 10 marry his sister, who would then be Lady Ogilvie, for which reason for the future he hould be very careful with whom he associated. That ertning Maurice dined at old Gardiner's house in Queen's-gate. He was to be introduced to the fam ly, or. in other words, to be paraded before the envious gaze of a certain cousin and his wife, rhe proprietor and proprietress of a large hosiery business in the Midlands, an elderly sister of Mrs. Gardiner's, who hailed from a mysterious region, which she described as 'Olloway; another married sister whose husband had retired from business, as she found occasion to tell Maurice, "on a com- petence," and a worthy old gentleman with a very red face and white hair, who drank every- thing that was poured out for hie addressed the ladies, one and all, as "my dear" before the sweets appeared. Ogilvie did his best to make fiimtzelf -?", able, and he certainly succeeded. J»er«„«, 'ur arrival the assembled company, you may be sure, had been informed that he was a descendant of one of the oldest families in England, "and not only that, but on intimate terms with Royalty, my dear." At dessert Mr. Gardiner rose, and. having drawn down his waistcoat, pulled up his collar and mopped his face with his dinner napkin, proposed the health of the happy couple in a speech that was liberal in praise of the bridegroom-elect. "Good Heavens!" said Ogilvie to himself, as he realised what, lay before him. "Surely they don't expect me to make a speech 1" It was evident that the assembled company did expect it, particularly the old gentleman with the red face, who, not having caught the gist of his host's remarks, assured Ogilvie that if he would only stand for his Division, he would give him the promise of his vote what- ever the neighbourhood might have to say to it. Ten minutes later, and considerably to his disgust, Maurice found himself on his feet, thanking his future father-in-law for the kind expressions he had used towards him, and for the most generous way in which he had been received that evening by the Gardiner family. While he was speaking his betrothed kept her eyes riveted on the pattern of her plate. They were filled with tears, for her thoughts were with the other man, at that moment eating his heart out in the north. What a hard world hers seemed to be that evening, and how un- just When she went to bed she followed the example she had set herself on the two previous nights, and cried herself to sleep. How totally unlike are various people's natures. Her father's one desire was that she should make a brilliant match. He did not care what amount he spent on bringing this result about. She, however, had no ambition to shine in society, no desire to reach that dazzling pinnacle which means invitations to a Government Minister's reception, or to a country house, where one may be the fellow-guest of Royalty. She would far rather have retired to a quiet town in the north, where the highest form of gaiety is a subscription dance, and the greatest honour an invitation to a Bishop's, or a Rural Dean's Garden Party. In her heart of hearts she knew, as well as anyone could have told her, that Ogilvie, although he was too well bred to say so, thought her father and mother vulgar people, and that, had it not been for the money she was to bring him, he would not have looked twice at herself. She had heard her peopla discuss him times out of number and knew tc- gusto with which they looked forward to the prominence her alliance with him would {:iv them in the social world. "Why were they so anxious to know these people ?" she asked herself, and then con- tinued When we were in the old home everyone respected papa because he was a clever and an honest man, who bad fought his way up from poverty to wealth. Now he is in a false position, and people laugh at him for the airs he gives himself." After the dinner at Queen's Gate, last described, a week went by and the engagement, from being a nine days' wonder, was now well- nigh forgotten. Upon Maurice Ogilvie the chains of love sat lightly. He made a point of calling at his fiancic's once a day, as in duty bound, met her in the Park in the afternoon, and twice in one week was her companion at the theatre. What more could be expected of him ? He had invited old Mr. Gardiner to dine with him at his club on one occasion, and the latter had talked about the men he had met there for several days afterwards. In the near future he hoped to be able to induce his son-in-law to get him elected to it. "Then, by Jove! he said to his wife in the sanctity of their chamber, "there's no knowing who we may be able to get to dine with us. Keep your heart up, Jane, old lady. We're on the right road now, and if we only play our cards carefully and stand in with Ogilvie, we'll be among the best of the swells yet! His good wife,however, only shook her head. She was not so sanguine. Her woman's instinct told her that matters were not exactly as they should be. The London season was fast drawing to its close. Goodwood was only a short time ahead, and already hostesses were making their lists for the autumn house parties. Gardiner had purchased a large estate in the Midlands, and was anxious to fill his house with fashionables. In this he felt .that his future son-in-law would help him. It was arranged that the wedding should take place in the first week in October. Maurice, however, did not seem at all elated by the prospect. "Hang it all, man!" said young George Pergraves at a club one day. "To look at you one would imagine that you took no sort of interest in the coming event. I can't make you fellows out. You get engaged and then you get the blues. Why, when poor little Dickie Went- worth was turned off last week things were just about as dismal as could be. The church, with the exception of the father and mother, half a dozen relations, of course on the bride's side, a second cousin, two or three old family servant-- and the bride and bridegroom, was empty. was there, as a matter of fact, and officiated A best man. I can tell you, however, that. L., weighed on my spirits like lead. Dickie is oux hundred and fifty thousand pounds the richer by the transaction, but his family have cut him Over since. For my part, I call it s shame." These were just the sort of discussions that Maurice abominated, and yet he \new that he was powerless to resent them. There could be no sort of doubt about the fact that he waa 'or. m0ney> and that everyone in hie world knew it. Yet, while he was quite aware of it himself, it not pleasant to think that everybody^else wa» certain of it also. With the pretty Connie Plantagenet he had had by series of quarrels. She declared herself convinced that, he was throw- ins; her over. "For two pins, she'd make herself nasty," said Ogilvie to himself, when he emerged from one particularly unpleasant interview. "Thill is the result, of listening to people when they vow they have no idea i11 l'/e save to promote anoiher s happiness. A nice fix J shall be in if ,It' s'arts proceedings for breach of promise 't me. and, dash it aU, there are many ljioic unlikely things than that." rhe wedding day came nearer, Mr Gnniiner became more Md wore generou., He cor.ld not do enough. 8() it appeared, to shew hie satisfaction at having gained such a popular son-in-law as Sli- Maurice Ogilvie. He had made inquiries with legard to the Ogilvie estates, which Maurice had sold for a quarter of their value, and hadnnnounctd his intention, in confidence, of repnrcl»is'ng thettl should such a tiling be possible. "Before you've done," lie observed ti vem shall sir in the seats of your forpfattier8> dauef'ter shall be beode you. All I H then shall be that you hare a son to follow you." Maurice smiled. "In that case," he said, "I hope he will be a better Mian than hit father." "My rlc-ar sir," the old gentleman returned, "you really must not talk likethat-. Somebody mifht ia-iitve you. Why, I've looked the Og.Ivies' pedigree up, and I find that they are one of the n; a"e"t families in the thftt Me. It has al<fc»;my saying, sir, that in the long run hi :4 will teil. Now, you've got the p dikiree a1 I I've got the- money. Xark my -words, nr.ake history y»L" I Maurice did not understand to what he alluded, but it was certain that the old gentle- man knew and was well contented with himself. I It was arranged that Ogilvie and his wife should spend their honeymoon in the South of France, at a villa Gardiner had rented lor men, and afterwards go on to Cairo and up the Nile I to Assouan, returning to England in the op-ing. Already descriptions of the dressei beins pre- pared for the bride were creeping into the society papers, through some mysterious sources, though everyone appeared to deplore and despise the treachery that resulted in such a breach of faith. "It will be a trousseau worthy of a Princess," said Mrs. Gardiner in confidence to a friend, "and I shan't mind who comes to see it. When 1 was married my mother gave me ten pounds a:id Aunt Thirzah live; that was all I had. My girl's outfit has already cost firt een hundred, and it's my opinion it will run to five hundred more before it's complete." As the eventful day approached the spirits of the bride-elect sank lower and lower. Who was to know that there had been a secret meeting in rhe Park, and that, oil a certain wet morning, under the shelter of a dripping umbrella, a pair of young people, who deemed themselves the most unhappy couple in the world, had sworn an oath that was destined in the near future to considerably upset certain people's calculations. When the young lady herself returned to her room an hour and a half later her eyes shone with an unusual brightness, her cheeks were flushed, and there was an air about her that her mother did not at all understand. "I can't think what can have come over the girl," she remarked to her sister. "This morn- ing, at breakfast, she looked as if she was going to cry every minute. She didn't take a bit of interest in Madame Celestine's trying on of the new tea-gown, and yet, here she is now, after a morning's walk in the Park, as happy as if she had never known a bit of trouble in her life." It was as well that the old lady didn't know the real cause; had she done so she would certainly have informed her better half and then there would have been trouble for everybody concerned. As for Maurice Ogilvie, that happy-go-lucky young gentleman regarded the future with an assured eye. One hundred thousand pounds even at three per cent., would realise three thousand pounds a year, in addition to which his wife was to have an allowance of one thousand pounds per annum for pin money. It might well be said that his lot had fallen in pleasant places. One day he paid a visit, accompanied by his father- in-law, to his new home, and found it a model of completeness and comfort. The hunting, shooting and fishing were undeniable, while it was sufficiently near town to permit of his running up whenever he might care to do so. At last it only wanted three weeks to the eventful day. The banns had already been pub- lished once in the two parishes. The invitations for the ceremony and the reception that was to follow it were issued, and wedding presents were arriving by every post. The house in Queen's Gate was in a continual simmer of excitement. Mere male creatures found them- selves of no account, while dressmakers and costumiers reigned supreme. Old Gardiner realised this, and spent the greater part of his time at the club, to which his son-in-law had managed to get him elected. It must be admitted here that if the world in general looked with favour upon the union of these two people, there was one individual at least in the great Metropolis who did not regard it in the same light. This was Miss Connie Plantagenet, the famous music-hall serio, who I at the time was delighting all London with a recondite song entitled, "It's Just What I Always Says to Mother She had realised by this time that the marriage was likely to become an accomplished fact, and, as may be supposed, she was meditating vengeance. "Just let him marry her," she had remarked more than once, "and then I'll shew him what I can do. He thinks that I am only bluffing, but he was never more mistaken in his life. When he's got her money there will be some- thing to pay damages with. I'll have the best part of it. I've seen her, and she ain't half so pretty as 1 am. It's only because she's got the money that he's so keen to marry her. Well, we'll wait and see. He thinks he's very clever, but though he ought to he don't know Connie Plantagenet yet. There's dozens who would marry me if I was to hold up my little finger. But he's a real swell, and the only one I ever cared a fig about. After thus musing the young lady would then trip on to the stage and sing a song, the refrain of which was as follows "Don't you bother about the sort of yarns he tells to you, Treat him just as if he was your brother. Give him jam and toffy, oil! Cigarettes and coffee, oh! And he'll fetch for you and carry you, Worship you and marry yon, Least—that's just what 1 always says to mother There could be no doubt that at that moment Miss Connie Plantagenet was the rage of Lon- don. Everyone went to see her, and the music of her latest song—that just described— was played upon every bairel organ, sung in drawing-rooms in Belgravia, and alleyways in Seven Dials, hummed by the peer in his bath, by the clerk on his way to business, and whistled by the butcher-boy on his rounds. The mild young curate sang it at penny readings and blushed at. his temerity. The last line, "That's just what I always says to mother," became a slanc expression of the street, and on several occasions had had the honour of being quoted in Police-court proceedings. Meanwhile, there was much speculation in the clubs with regard to the Ogilvie-Gardiner wedding, not so much from the Queen's Gate, but from Miss Connie Burt-Plantagenet's point of view. "Will she sue him, do you think?" asked one man of another, and as often as not the other would rep!y, with a knowing wink: u Sue him ? Goodness knows. That's just what I aiM asking mother Tn hp, continued. )

Linen whiteness comes from Starch as well as washing. Colman's Starch whitens linen. See that Colman's Name and lfflb v the Bull's Head are on the Box. COLMAN'S STARCH Regi.

Mr. Astor has given L20,000 for the endow. ment of existing unendowed professorships at University College, London, in connection with the appeal for the endowment of ad- vanced L'niversity education and research in London. o llll 111 ■