The Cardiff Times

BRAVE UESCUE AT SEA. FORTY-SIX LIVES SAVED. The last arriving Canadian mail steamer at Liverpool brought particulars of the rescue at sea of forty-six lives from the Spanish steamer Cubatio, which foundered in lafc. 4b, long. 35. The rescue was effected by the British barque Antwerp, though it took four days to accomplish it. According to the statement of Captain Hum- phrey, of the Antwerp, which arrived at St. John, N.B., on the 23rd ult., it appears that the barque was going from Londonderry when she fell in with a disabled steamer in lat. 43, long. 37. The vessel was sending up rockets and dis- playing other signals of distress. The Ant- werp bore down to the steamer, and when within signalling distance the captain of the steamer said they were in no need of immediate assistance. In reply to a signal from the Antwerp asking what they wanted; those on board the steamer replied they were sinking. It was found that the steamer was the Cubano, bound to Liverpool. A distance of two miles separated the vessels, and a very heavy sea was running. A boat with eleven men left the Cubano and pulied for the barque. Those ou hoard the latter vessel could see that the only chance of getting the men on board was by haul- ing them through the sea. They, therefore, got lines and everything ready. The boat on approaching the barque was stove in by the sea, but the men were fortunately hauled safely on board the barque. They told the rescuers that the ballast tank of the steamer had burst, and the water pouring in had extinguished the fires. The steam pumps had been ren- dered useless, and the men for some time had been engaged baling out the water with buckets. The eleven men had adopted a most opportune moment for abandoning their vessel, as soon after they had gained the deck of the barque a fearful- storm snrang up, raging the ? day and night. In tho morning a blinding snow- storm supervened, accompanied by a heavy sea. No attempt c-uld possibly be made to relieve the remainder of the Cubano's crew, but Captain Humphrey kept his vessel as close as possible to tho steamer in the hope of the weather abating. At midnight the gale decreased in violence, but snow squalls prevailed at intervals, About ten o'clock on the following morning a small boat was seen to leave the steamer. The current, however, carried the frail craft at its will. Seeing the imminent danger of the occupants, the captain of the Antwerp ordered sail to be set on his vessel, which scudded off aud came up with the little boat after a three miles run. On coming alongside the Antwerp tne boat was smashed, and it was with the greatest diffi- culty that the men were pulled on board. It appeared that there were only three occupants- two seamen and the captain. The former put off from the steamer, but the craft wa6 so small that none of the others would venture in it. The captain had jumped into the sea, and was picked up by the small boat. He had only his sleeping clothing on when he got on the Antwerp the men were exhausted and benumbed. Another storm set in, and it would have been madness to attempt to rescue the rest of the Cubano's crew. At daylight on the fol- lowing morning the Antwerp was worked again as close as possible to the steamer. The storm raged during the day. Captain Humphrey offered the rescued men the use of his best boat if they wished to succour their comrades, but they thought it was too dangerous to attempt any- thing of the kind, in which Captain Humphrey perfectly agreed. As the day wore on Captain Humphrey signalled that the weather would be fine in the morning, but those on the steamer re- plied that their vessel would founder before then. Nothing, however, could be done but wait for the morrow, and the dawn showed that Captain Humphrey's prognostication was correct. lins was the fourth day that the vessels had been in company with each other, and at eleven o C.OCK the weather had sufficiently moderated to admit of a boat being launched from the Ant- werp. This craft, in charge of the chief officer of the Antwerp, made three trips and rescued the remainder of the shipwrecked men. One of the crew, a Manilla man, fearing that the steamer would founder before those on board ceuld be rescued, put his chest on a couple of planks and left his vessel. He wss soon carried away from the steamer, and lost sight of. He no doubt was drowned. In addition to her own crew, the Cubano had on bofad two engineers, the mate, second mate, and carpenter of the Spanish steamer Avendino, which had been wrecked at Nassau. These men were also rescued by the Antwerp. Having lost so much time, Captain Humphrey de- cided to run for the Azores, and four days after- wards she landed the shipwrecked men at bt Michael Before leaving the ship the English ^resented a testimonial to Captain wCTrev'and hS crew for their bravery, P ifv and for the great kindness they showed humanjty, and tenme voyage •'(rom St to ihehep John,s ttiei Antwerp met very Michael t ^id seci several icebergs on the IX # »' 'Vnfo'eS1 hS'STfK 1 waM Jd'S™ decks being W with tlw sea. ■

SHOCKING SUICIDE OF A CHILD. An inquest was held^>^m^m Saturday on the body of Louisa Oates. age drowued in of a pattern maker, who was t stated the Thames. Margaret Coates, the '^her.^a that her daughter left home abo brother just before, and witness had C'1, from a doing. The deceased then took h nail, saying Good bye, I m J house hurriedly. She had often thre .• drown herself. She was very fond o g penny journals and novels, and the '• no doubt they haul affected ber mind. I .j returned a v.rdict that the deceased committea suicide while in a state of temporary insanity at the same time they expressed an opinion tnaisne was driven to it by the treatment she received at home.

ANARCHY in BURMAH. ] Further news from British Burmah states that the unsettled condition of the country continued, and although the missionaries have ventured back to Bramo, their wives and families remain at Mandalay. Reports had been received of the defeat of the K'ng of Burmah str^psbythe Kacheens, which WM regarded very serious news, portending the furt^h8Pr^ of the lawlessness and insurrection, with their ccompaniments of murder and pillage. ccompaniments of murder and pillage.

"I SAY 'STO: OR, THE LOVE-LETTER ANSWERED. BY WILKIE COLLINS. 1 BOOK THE FOURTH.-THE DISCOVERY. CHAPTER XXXVIII.-DANCING. The windows of the long drawing-room at Monksmoor are all thrown open to the conserva- tory. Distant masses of plants and flowers, min- gled in ever-varying forms of beauty, are touched by the melancholy lustre of the rising moon. Nearer to the house, the restful shadows are dis- turbed at intervals, where streams of light fall. over them aslant from the lamps in the room. The fountain is playing. In rivalry with its lighter music, the nightingales are singing their song of ecstacy. Sometimes the laughter of girls is heard—and sometimes, the melody of a waltz. The younger guests at Monksmoor are danctng. I Emily and Cecilia are dressed alike in white, with flowersin their hair. Francine rivals them by means of a gorgeous contrast of oolour, and I declares that she is rich with the bright emphasis of diamonds and the soft persuasion of pearls. Miss Plym (from the rectory) is fat and fair and prosperous she overflows with good spirits she has a waist which defies tight lacing, and she dances joyously on large flat feet. Miss Darn- away (officer's daughter, with small means) is the exact opposite of Miss Plym. She is thin and tall and faded—poor soul. Destiny has made it her hard lot in life to fill the place of head-nursemaid at hume. In her moments, she thinks of the little brothers and sisters, whose patient ser- vant she is, and wonders who comforts them in their troubles and tells them stories at bed-time, while she is holiday-making at the pleasant country house. Tender-hearted Cecilia, remembering how few lJleasures this young friend has, aml knowing how well she dances, never allows her to be without a partner. There are three invaluable younargentle- men present, who are excellent dancers. Members of different families, they arc nevertheless fear- fully and wonderfully like each other. They pre- sent the same rosy complexions and straw-coloured mustachios, the same plump cheeks, vacant eyes, and low foreheads and they ntter, with the same stolid gravity, the same imbecile small talk. On sofas facing each other, sit the two remaining guests, who have not jokied the elders at the card- table in another room. They are both men. One of them is drowsy and middle-aged—happy in the possession of large landed property happier still in a capacity for drinking Mr Wyvil's famous port-wine without gouty results. The other gentleman—ah, who is the other? He is the confidential adviser and bosom friend of every young lady in the house. Is it necessary to name the Reverend Miles Mirabel ? There he sits enthroned, with room for a fair admirer on either side of him—the clerical sultan of a platonic harem. His persuasive ministry is felt as well as heard ho has an innocent habit of fondling young persons. One of his arms is even long enough to embrace the circumference of Miss Plym—while the other clasps the rigid silken waist of Francine. I do it everywhere else," he says innocently, why not here 7" Why not in- deed-with that delicate complexion and those beautiful blue eyes with the glorious golden hair that rests on bis shoulders, and the glossy beard that flows over his breast ? Familiarities, for- bidden to mere men, become privileges and con- descensions when an angel enters society—and more especially when that angel has enough of mortality in him to be amusing. Mr Mirabel, on his social side, is an irresistible companion. He is cheerfulness itself he takes a favourable view of everything his sweet temper never differs with anybody. In my humble way," he con- fesses, I like to make the world about me brighter. Laughter (harmlessly produced, ob- serve !) is the element in which lie lives and breathes. Miss Darnaway's serious face puts him out he has laid a bet with Emily-not in money, not even in gloves, only in flowers-that he will make Miss Darnaway laugh and he has won the wager. Emily's flowers are in his button-hole, peeping through the curly interstices of his beard. Must you leave me he asks tenderly, when there is a dancing man at liberty, and it is Fran- cine's turn to claim him. She leaves her seat not very willingly. For a while, the place is vacant; Miss Plym seizes the opportunity of consulting the ladies' bosom friend. Dear Mr Mirabel, do tell me what you think of Miss de Sor ?" Dear Mr Mirabel bursts into enthusiasm, and makes a charming reply. His large experience of young ladies wains him that they will ten each other what he thinks of them, when they retire for the night and he is careful, on the^e occasions, to say something that will boar re- petion. I see in Miss de Sor," he declares, the reso- lution of a man, tempered by the sweetness of a woman. When that interesting creature marries, her husband will be—shall I use the vulgar word ? —henpecked. Dear Miss Plym, he will enjoy it; and he will be quite right to and, if I am asked to the wedding, I shall say, with heart-felt sin- cerity, Enviable man In the height of her admiration of Mr Mirabel's eye for character, Miss Piyrn is called away to the piano. Cecilia succeeds to her frjend's place-and has her waist taken in charge as a matter of course. How do you like Miss Plym ?" she asks directly. Mr Mirabel smiles, and shows the prettiest little pearly teeth. I was just thinking- of her," he confesses pleasantly. Miss Plym is so nice and plump, so comforting and domestic—such a perfect clergyman's daughter. Y uu love her, don't you ? Is she engaged to be married ? In that case—between ourselves, dear Miss Wyvil, a clergyman is obliged to be cautious—1 may own that I love her tuu." Delicious titiliations cfl il.ai.ered self-esteem be- tray themselves in Cecilia's lovely complexion. She is the chosen confidante of this irresistible man and she would like to express her sense of obligation. But Mr Mirabel is a master in the art of puttiner the right words in the right places and simple Cecilia distrusts herself aud her grammar. At that moment of embarrassment, a friend leaves the dance, and helps Cecilia out of the difficulty. Emily approaches the sofa-throne, breathless— followed by her partner, entreating her to give him one turn more." She is not to be tempted; she means to rest. Cecilia sees an act of mercy suggested by the presence of the disengaged young man. She seizes his arm, and hurries him off to poor Miss Darnaway sitting forlorn in a corner, and thinking of the nursery at home. In the meanwhile, a circumstance occurs. Mr Mirabel's all embracing arm shows itself in a new character, when Emily sits by his side. It becomes for the first time, an irresolute arm. It advances a little—and hesitates. Emily at once administers an unexpected thelk; she insists on preserving a free waist, in her own outspoken language. No, Mr Mirabel, keep that for the others. You can't imagine how ridiculous you and your young ladies look, and how absurdly unaware of it you all seem to be." For the first time in his life, the reverend and ready-witted man of the world is at a loss for an answer. Why ? For this simple reason. Ho too has felt the mag- netic attraction of the irresistible little creature whom everyone likes. Miss Jethro has been doubly defeated. She haa failed to keep them apart and her unexplained misgivings have not been justified by events Emily and Mr Mir- abel are good friends already. The brilliant clergyman is poor his interests iu life point to a marriage for mOLOY; he has fascinated the heiresses of two rich fathers, Mr Wyvil and Mr de Sor-and yet he is conscious of an influence (an alien influence, without a balance at its bankers), which has, in some mysterious way, got between him and his interests. On Emily's side, the attiaction felt is of another nature altogether. Among the merry young people at Monksmoor she is her old happy self again and she finds in Mr Mirabel the most agreeable and amusing man whom she has ever met. After those dismal night watches by the bed of her dy- ing auut, and the dreary weeks of solitude that followed, to live in this new world of luxury and gaiety, is like escaping from the darkuess of night, and basking in the full brightness of day. Cecilia declares that she looks, once more, like the joyous queen of the bedroom, in the by-gone time at school and Francine (profaning Shakespeare) without knowing it), says, Emily is herself again Now that your arm is in its right place, re- verend sir," she gaily resumes, I may admit that there are exceptions to all rules. My waist is at your disposal, in a case of necessity—that is to say, in a case of waltzing." The one case of all others," Mirabel answers, with the engaging frankness that has won him so many friends, which can never happen in my unhappy experience. Waltzing, I blush to own it, means picking me up off the floor, and putting smelling salts to my nostrils. In other words, dear Miss Emily, it is the room that waltzes—not 1. I can't look at those whirling couples there with a steady head. Even the exquisite figure of our young hostess, when it describes flying circles, turns me giddy." Hearing this allusion to Cecilia, Emily drops to the level of the other girls. She too pays her homage to the Pope of private life. You pro- mised me your unbiassed opinion of Cecilia," she reminds him and you haven't given it yet." The ladies' frieud gently remonstrates. "1\1Ib8 Wyvii's beauty dazzles me. How can I give an unbiassed opinion ? Besides, I am not thinking of her I can only think of you." Emily lifts her eyes half merrily, half tenderly, and looks at him over the top of her fan. It is her first effort at flirtation. She is tempted to en- gage in the most interesting of all games to a girl —the game which plays at making love. What has Cecilia told her, in those bedroom gossipings, dear to the hearts of the two friends ? Cecilia has whispered, Mr Mirabel admires your figure; he calls you the Venus of Milo, in a state of perfect abridgment. Where is the daughter of Eve, who would not have been flattered by that pretty complIment-who would not have talked soft nonsense in return ? "You can only think of Me," Emily repeats coquettishly. Have you said that to the last young lady who occupied my place, and wiil you say say it again to the next who follows me ?" Not to one of them Mere compliments are for the others—not for you." What is for me, Mr Mirabel 7" What I have just offered to you—a confession of the truth." Emily is startled by the tone in which he re- plies. He seems to be in earnest not a vestige is left of the easy gaiety of his his manner. His face shows an expression of anxiety which she has never seen in it yet. Do you believe me ?" he asks in a whisper. t ,« m, T She tries to change the subject When am I to hear you preach, Mr Mirabel 1" He persists. When you believe me," he SaSis eyes add an emphasis to that reply which is not to be mistaken. Emily turns away from him, and notices Francine. She has left the dance, and is looking with marked attention at Emily and Mirabel. I want to speak to you," she says, and beckons impatiently to Emily. Mirabel whispers, Don't go 1" Emily rises nevertheless—ready to avail herself I of the first excuse for leaving him. Francine j meets her half way, and takes her roughly by the I arm. j What is it ?" Emily asks.. "Suppose you leave off fluclug with Mr Mi- rabel, a.nd make yourself of some use ?" } In what way ?" "Use your ears—and look at that girl." She points disdainfully to innocent Miss Plym. The rector's daughter possesses all the virtues, with one exception—the virtue of having an ear for music. Whan she sings she is out of tune and when she plays, she murders time. Who can dance to such music as that ?" says. Franoine. Finish the waltz for her." Emily naturally hesitates. How can I take her place, unless she asks me ?" Francine laughs scornfully. Siy at once you want to go bade to Mr Mirabel." Do you think I should have got up, when you beckoned to me," Emily rejoins," if I had not wanted to get awaj from Mr Mirabel ?" Instead of resenting this sharp retort, Francine suddenly breaks int. good humour. Come along, you little spit-fire I'll manage it for you." She leads Emily to the piano, and stops Miss Plym without a word of apology: It's yourturu to dance now. Here's Miss Brown waiting to relieve you." Cecilia has not been unobservant, in her own quiet way, of what has been going ou. Waiting until Francine and Miss Plym are out of hear- ing, she bends over Emily, and says, My dear, I really do think Francine is in love with Mr Mirabel." After having only been a week in the same house with him;" Emily exclaims. At any rate," says Cecilia, more smartly than udual, u she is jealous of you." CHAPTER XXXIX.—FMIGXING. • The next morning, Mr Mirabel took two mom- bers of the circle at Monksmoor by surprise. One of them was Emily and one of them was the master of the house. Seeing Emily alone in the guidea before break- fast, he left his room, and joined her. Let me say one word," he pleaded, bofore we go to breakfast. I am grieved to think that I was so unfortunate as to offend you la t night ?" Enllly s look of astonishment answered for her before she could speak. What can I have said or done," she asked, to make you think that ?" J Now I breathe again he cried, with the boyish gaiety of manner which was one of the secrets of his popularity among women. "I really fell into the mistake quite naturally. It is a terrible confession for a clergyman to make—but it is not the less true that I am one of the most indiscreet men living. It is my rock alidad ia life that I say the. first thing which comes uppermost, without stopping to think. Being well aware of my own defects, I naturallv distrust myself." Even in the pulpit ?" Emily inquired. He laughed with the readiest appreciation of the satire although it was directed against himself. I like that question," he snid it tells me we are as good friends again as ever. The fact is, the sight of the congregation, when I get into the pulpit, has the same effect upon me that the sight of the footlights has on an actor. All oratory (though my clerical brethren are shy of confessing it) is acting without tha scenery and the cos tumes. Did you really mean it, last night, when you said you would like to hear me preach ?" Indeed, I did." How very kind of you. I don't think myself the sermon is worth the sacrifice. (There is another specimen of iny indiscreet way of talk- ing !). What I mean is, that you will have to get up early on Sunday morning, and drive 12 miles to the damp and dismal little church in which I officiate for a man with a rich wife who likes the climate of Italy. My congregation works in the fields all the week, and naturally enough goes to sleep in church 041 Sunday. I have had to coun- teract that. Not by preaching I wouldn't puzzle the poor people with my eloquence for the world. No, no I tell them little stories out of theBiole -in a nice easy gossipiug way. A quar- ter of au hour is my limit of time and, I am proud to say, some of them (molltly,the women), { do to a certain extent keep awake. If you and the other ladies decide to honour me, it is need- less to say you shall have one of my "rand efforts. What will be the effect on my unfortunate flock remains to be seen. I will have the church brushed up, and luncheon of course at the par- sonage. lieans, bacon, and beer—I haven't got anything else in the house. Are you rich I hope not I suspect I am quite as poor as you are, Mr Mirabel." I am delighted to hear it. (More of mý indiscretion,) Our poverty is another bond be- tween us." Before he could enlarge on this text the break- fast bell rang. He gave Emily his arm, quite satisfied with the result of the morning's talk. In speaking seriously to her on the previous night, he had committed the mistake cf speaking too soon. To amend this false step, and to recover his position in Emily's estimation, had been his object in view —and it had been successfully aeco-upii -he.d. At the breakfast table that morning, the com- panionable clergyman was mora amui-ing than ever. The meal being over, the Company dibpersed as usual—with the one exception of Mirabel. With- out any apparent reason, he kept his place at the table. Mr Wvvil. the most courteous aud con- siderate of men, felt it an attention due to his guest not to leave the room first. All that he could venture to do was to give a little hint. Have you any plans for the morning ?" he asked. I have a plan that depends entirely on your- self," Mirabel answered "and I am afraid of being as indiscreet as usual, if I mention iu Your charming daughter tells me play Oil the viol ¡ n." Modest Mr Wvvil looked confused. "I hope you lnve not been he said. I practice in a distant room so that nohndV may hear me." My dear sir, I am eager to hear you Music is my passion and the violin is my favourite instrument." Mr Wyvil led the way to his lyj.n, positively blushing with pleasure. Since tiie death of his wife he had been sadly in want of a little encour- agement. His daughters and his friends were careful-ovcr,careful as he thùught-of intruding on him in his hours of practice. And, sad to say, his daughters and his friends were, from amusical point of view, perfectly right. Literature has hardly paid sufficient attention to a social phenomenon of a singularly perplexing kind. We hear enough, and more than enough, of persons who successfully cult.v^.e the :HLs-of the remarkable manner in which fitness for their vocation shows itself ill early life, of the obstacles which family prejudice places in their way, and of the unremitting devotion which has led to the achievement of glorious results. But how many writers have noticed those other incomprehensible persons, members of families innocent for generations past of practising art or caring for art, who have notwithstanding dis- played from their earliest years the irre.stible desire to cultivate poetry, painting, or music who have surmounted obstacles and endured dis- t appointments in the single-hearw d resolution to devote their lives to an intellectual pursuit—being absolutely without the capacity which proves the vocation and Justifies the sacrifice. Here is nature, "unerring nature," presented iu natcui- tradiction with herself. Here are men bent on performing feats of running without having legs, and women, hopelessly barren, living m constant expectation of large families to the end ot their days The musician is not to be found more completely deprived than Mr WyviI of natural capacity for playing on an instrument—and, for twenty years past, it had been the pride and delight of his heart to let no day of his life go by without practising on the violin. I am sure I must be tiring to you," he said politely—after having played without mercy for a.n hour and more. No the insatiable amateur had his own pur- pose to gain, and was not exhaused yet. Mr Wyvil got up to look for some more music. Iu that interval desultory conversation naturally took place. Mirabel contrived to give it the necessary direction—the direction of Emi-y. The most delightful girl I have met with for many a long year past!" Mr Wyvil declared warmly. "I don't wonder at my daughter being so fond of her. She leads a solitary life at home, poor thing and I am honestly glad to see her spirits reviving in my house." An only child ?'? Mirabel asked. In the necessary explanation that followed, Emily's isolated position in the world was re- vealed in a few words. But one more discovery— the most important of all—remained to be made. Had she used a figureof speech in saying that she was as poor as Mirabel himself ? or had she told him the slacking truth? He put the question with perfect delicacy—but with unerring direct- ness as well. Mr Wyvil, quoting his daughter's authority, described Emily's income as falling short even of two hundred a year. Having made that dis- heartening reply, he opened another music book. fou know this sonata, of course?" he said. The next moment the violin was under his chin, and the performance began. While Mirabel was, to all appearance, listening with the utmost attention, he was actually en- deavouriag to reconcile himself to a serious sacri- fice of his own inclinations. If he remained much longer in the same house with Emily, the impres- sion that she had produced on him would be certainly strengthened, and he would be guiliy of tbe folly of making an offer of marriage to a woman who was as poor as himself. The one remedy that could be trusted to preserve him from such infatuation as this, was absence. At the end of the week, he had arranged to return to Vale Regis for his Sunday duty engaging to join his friends again at Monksmoor on the Mon- day following. That rash promise, there could be no further doubt about it, must not be fulfilled. He had arrived at this resolution, when the terrible activity of Mr Wyvii's bow was suspended by the appearance of a third person in the room. Cecilia's maid was charged with a neat little three-cornered note from her young Jady, to be presented to her master. Wondering why his daughter should write to bim, Mr Wvvil opened the note, and was informed of Cecilia's motive in these words: "Dearest Papa.—I hear that Mr Mirabel is with you, and as this is a secret, I must write. Emily has received a very strange letter this morning, which puzzles her and alarms me. ( When you are quite at liberty we shall be so much obliged if you will tell us how Emily ought to answer it." Mr Wyvil stopped Mirabel, on the point of trying to escape from the music. A little domestic matter to attend to," he said. But we will finish the sonata first." (To be contimud.)

WRECK OF A NEWPORT BOUND STEAMER. The steamer Lady Dalhousie, bosnd to New* port, Mon., went ashore on Saturday. night on the Manacles, off Penzance, and remains. The crew were saved.

Mr W. J. Payne, coroner for the city of Lon don and the Duchy of Lancaster, expired sud t denly on Monday morning at his residence, Rei gate.

Dymunir i'n goliebwyr Uymreig gyfeirio eu goheb, iaethau, llyfrau i'w hadolygu, &c., fel y oanlyn: Dafydd Morganwg, Morganwg JUmue, LUmtwil- ttreei, Cardiff.

BARDDONIAETH. i LLYGAD Y DYDD. 1 'E gwyd del "Lygad y Dydd "—ei atnwysg Emrynt gyda'r wawrddydd Ar ei wedd Ion swynion øydd. A drecha'r gwyl edrychydd^ CABW CrNON, j

BYDOL. Byw bydol, a'i fwyuiant bob adeg—yw Tyru aur melyndeg; Er a ga'dd, hwn ddyry o'i geg Achwyniad am ychwaneg, CrNKKiuwifSOX.

COLOMEN NOAH. Y glan emwisg golomen—i Noah Gariodd newydd llawen; Gwelodd (er rhwydd lwydd di len) Drai diluw drwy ei dalen. Rhondda Joint Cemetery. OARW CrNOtf.

"OWN LLONYDD SY'N CYJNLLUNIO." A gwyliwch pwy i'w goelio—i'w arwain Ac ymddiried ynddo; Tincio o hyd boed yn y co'— Cwn llonydd sy'n cvnllunio. Swyddffynon. D. LusnRoorAN DAVIES.

AR NOS DAWEL YN SWN YR AFON. Ein rhyfedd sio wna'r afon—fei i Afael hun hyfrydlou Mor, mdr, yw iaith murmur hon Yn nystawrwydd nds dirion. CTXFFIGWYSOW.

SEFYLLFA DDÿFODOL YR ANNUWIOL. Ffwrn ysawl urfern isod—a blin Dan blwng ga'n breswylfod Yn ddiau baich ei ddu bechod,—wna'i soddi, 'E ga'1 ddiodi o wg ei Dduwdod. Pengam. MEUDWY GWENT.

DUW PAROD I FADDAU." Ni chaf mwyacb fy meiau,—Duw a roes Drefn dileu camweddau, Rhoddi cllr amlygrwydd clau Sef awyddus i fad ;au. Arwyddiou o anwireddau—a fu F'oes, a llawn gwyriadau lor ei hun gan drugarhau, Fu'n mcddwl am drefn maddau. Ei fawredig fwriadau,—Duw parod Purwych gymhelliadau, Yn llunio clir gynllun clau, Am ddwyn moddion a inaddau. Ei glywedig alwadau,—trwy anog Mewn taerineb ddoniau, Ca.f fy Ner yw cyfiawnhau, A chaf heddwch o'i faddau. Sai a dengys byd angau—nes Iesu Isod tros bechndau Fy lle'n hyf yn llawenhau, Tra. mae haeddiant er maddau. Ei barodrwydrl o'm brwydrau—ozs '.Vvllius Wrtliod ei alwadau Os ar ol ei hir sarhau. Y rhyfeddir ei faddau. Anog eraill eu gorau—fyn y saint, Cyfan sfel yn ddiau Dyn a'r ddeddf a dyna'r ddau Sy'n foddus yn ei faddau. OGWENYDD.

Y GWRON GOLLWYD. 3ef Mr DAXIEL THOMAS, Brithweunydd, yr hwn a gollodd ei fywyd yn Nglofa Penygraig, Sul, Ionawr 27, 1884-. Calonau glowyr Cymru Yn toddi heddyw sydd, Nes ydynt yn dyferu Yn ddagrau ar bob grudd, 0 herwydd collÙ Gwron Fu iddynt drwy ei oes Yn barod ac yn ffyddlon Yn mhob tancliwaol loes. Gwreichionai tfln gwroldeb Yn fellt o'i lygaid ef, A'i seiniau mewn eglurdeb Gaed yn ei lais a'i lef Y cyntaf oedd i neidio I iiob trychineb groes, A'r olaf i ymado A fuoedd drwy ei oes. Yn adeg y Gorlifiad Yn y Tynevvydd bu, Mor wrol ei ymroddiad Ago angel llawn 0 f ri A thra bydd Glofa'r Dinas Ar lan y Rhondda Fawr, Ei enw da mewn urd • ,s A saif mor wyn :1'1' w.,wr. Diau ar lan y Rhon.'ua Ni fagwyd dyn erioed Mor ddewr a'r gwron ymt, Fel tystia 01 ci dro. I Gadawai'i gorff ci hunan o fewn y lofa'n fuc, Cyn metliu yn ei a.mcal1 Da.) onus ar bob pi yd. Edrycher arno'n suddo Yr olaf waith i lawr. Tra'r dyfnder prudd o d no Yn farwol fynwent fawr; Dissynodd i'r gwaelodinn, Ac yn a dyfnder dn Canfyddwyd corff y Gwiv,n, Yn dyst o'i ddewrder cu. Y Cymro penderfynol A g'ollwyd-1'hv'dd oi nun Yn aberth byw yniroddol Ar allor serch at ddya; A thra y cura calon o fewn y glowr mad Bydd gorchest oes y (J » ron Yn aros mewn coffliad. Hyde Park, Pa. T. CYNFKU'N

Y BEDD. Cyfodwyd gyntaf enw'r bedd Yn Eden, rhwng y bloda-n, A dagrau fyrddiwn wlitlndd wedd Y byd o flaen ei ddorau Rhyw wely bychan, hirgul yw, I ddynolryw rhwng deufyd, Lie na ddaw neb, heb alwad Duw. Dros erchwyn tranc i fywyd. Mac anweledig law yn rhoi Lien arswyd drosto'n ddirgel, A rhyw ddwyfoldeb yn crynhoi 0 gylch yn mron yr awel; Y cwrlyd gwyrddlas drosto syddf Llaw ddwyfol fn'n ei lwytho, I ddal yn gyfan hyd y dydd I'r trwm gysgadur ddeffro. Os bywyd sydd wrth ddrws y Ledd, I'w Wt,1'd yn ngwrid y blodau, Marwolaet r. obry wnaeth ei sedd, I fwyta i Nch yr oesau. "V nJTyodlon ceir yr haul a'r lloer Y n xwylio'r tawel fwthyn, On I byth tu mewn i'r anedd oer Ni fedrant roi pelydryn. Nid oes un ffenestr wedi'i rhoi Yn mur yr anedd briddiyd Mae'r drws gan angeu wedi'i gloi Rhag swn cerddediad bywyd Ac oddimewn y llwchyn mud Sy'n cysgu hun mor drymed, Nas dichon trystfawr seiniau'r byd 1 byrth ei glyw gael trwydded. Pe unai'r boll daranau, fu Erioed yn siarad dychryn, I wneud cymanfa uwch y Hen Sydd yn eu marwol gyntun, Ni welid un o'r farwol 4ch Un gronyn nes i ddeffro Er seiglo seliau'r beddrod bach, Mae angeu'n dal i'w suo. Ond boreu ddaw, mewn gwisg o darij Fflamwrida wyneb anian, Pan lama'r meir\v, fawr a mân, Drag erchwyn beddrod allan Agorir bedd i'r angeu gla'1, Fu'n agor bedd i'r oesoedd, Yn nyfnder mynwent arfaeth gras, Ac arno dawnsia'r bydoedd. CXFEILIOQ.

LLYGAD Y DYDD.—fDAISY.) G jl vvg arno ar foreu llwydrewog, a barodd i'r bardd ei gyfarch. Y BARDn. Haul gyda'i des, 0, lygad dydd, Ni chei o'i wres nachwa o'i rudd Pa fodd y dost ? pa fudd yw dwyn Y dawnus a ddena swyn ? LLYGAD Y DYDD. 'Rwyf wedi dod ar hyd y dydd, I wylio gwea yr haul o'i gudd Adwaenoch ef da iawn i chwi, Ya son am haul o'i swyn i mi. Y BARDD. Yn hyf o'i threfn yr aetli y rhod, Rhew yn ei bwynt, a'r eira'n bod A barng oer y boreu gawn, A sudda lliw y meusydd llawn. LLYGAD Y DYDO. Ond daw yr baul i'n daear wiw, A'i wyneb ef sy'n wenau byw Heb awel drist ei belydr & I ddweyd mor rhydd ar ddod mae'r ha', Yn rhydd y dof, yn rhwydd y dydd, Y daw y gwres yn deg o'i rudd Yr haul a yrr y rhew i'w wJad, A mmau haul fydd fy mwynhad, Y BARDD. Ond cyn y daw felcenad hedd, A'i gyfoeth oil, A gwiwa'th wedd Hen ddeifiol wynt wna ddifa liw Lliwiedig wedd y 1 lygad gwiw. LLYGAD Y DYDD. Mae'r haf yn dod mor fwyn a da, A gwenu'n hyf ar egin wna A'i wenau ef a'm llona i, Ac yn ei fron y cawn ci fri. Y BARDD. Er gwenau'r haul, rhy gynar yw I droi y byd i dreio byw Y gwyntoedd ocr trwy'r cyntedd ddaw, I wneyd dy fron yn nod o fraw. Fe gilia'r haul, fe'i gwelir ef A'i fron yn iacli fry yn y net; Y rhew a geir, a'r eira gwyn, A'th ddwyn i fedd ar unwaith fyn. LLYGAD Y DYDD. Os eirs. lyn a.'i siriol wedd, Ei foddiog law ni fedda gledd Byw leda bydd y blodau bach 0 dan ei wisjf i gyd yn iach. Os yw y rhew am roi sarhad, I mi yn awr rhag cael mwynhad Rhag ofn yr haul hir gefnu raid, I'r rhew on plitb, daw'r wawr on plaid. Swyddffynon, D, LUEDBODIAN DAVIM.

WE LSH CH A R ACT E RISTICS OF BRITTANY. HOLIDAY RAMBLES BY A WELSHMAN. Letter II. —CHANNEL ISLANDS—VICTOR AT GUERNSEY—HUGO VKRSU3 NAPOLEON JESUITS AT ST. BELriCRS— ENJOCABLK VOYAGB- WKLSH ORiatN OF BKRTONS—PRR.-5KNT BRITTANY IDENTI- OAL WITH PAST WALRa. It is not very encouraging to behold the gleam- ing, flickering lights of the lamps of the ligbt house of the Caskets castiug their radiations on the deep t > warn the mariner to keep his frail bark at a respectable distance. The look at the cruel rocks give resurrection to many historical incidents consigned to the. tombs of memory in eur early days— incidents whioh respectively graced or disgraced the historic page. It reo minds us of the pitiable story of Prince William, son of the first King Henry of England, sailing home from France, the wreck of his Blanche Nef, his praiseworthy efforts to rescue his perishing sister, the escape of the Rouen butcher, the sole survivor of the catastrophe, who told the heart- rendering tale which so affected the Royal father that never afterwards was he seen to smile. But with the uprising of the sun of another morn- ing," showing its golden hair and purple forehead in the eastern horizon, hope revives in the heart wherein it was supposed to have died. These channel islands serve us as re- membrancers of the brave days of old," when they were bones of contention over which French and English dogs of war quarrelled. Fortresses and garrisons testify that here thev have not yet hanged the trumpet in the hall to study war no more." The questions that occur to the passers by is, have not "the powers that be" spent more than the worth of then; m mi these islands? Military authorities, however, decided that possession of them was so important to the English Crown that they must be retained at any cost. The soil is also proverbially rich, and the loyalty of the islanders to the British Govern- ment, considering that the natives are of Freach origin, and speak the French language, is very remarkable. The goodliness of the land and the godliness of the people harmonise. Guernsey, with its upwards of thirty thousand population, has only four police constables, and their office is almost a sinecure, for they have very little to do. Jersey, with twice the popu- lation of Guernsey, is equally forluuate on this score. "Last week," said one the other day of Guernsey, a flasr was hoisted above the wall of the prison to proclaim the fact that it was empty. This has happened twice under the rule of the present governor, Mr Le Soubey." These islands will bear comparison with the most highly civilised and Christianised parts of the princi- pality, where occasionally judges find no crimi- nals to be tried and are presented with white gloves. The climate is delicious. The weather avoids extremes, and is not so cold in winter as ours in England, nor is it so hot as ours in summer. The genial influences of the Gulf stream which tones down wintry severities very much affect the climate of the Channel Islands, and that of Brittany and the southern coast of France. It has been asserted that our island home has no longer any climate, only weather, but we are glad to find that these liappy regions are still possessed of a climate softened and sweet- ened by the swelling tides of the deep waters which wash their coasts. Their paradisiacal fields, gardens, orchards, and vineyards are therefore garnished with herb, tree, fruit, and flowers glis- tening with dew. And Gentle gales Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Their balmy spoils. At Guernsey, through the courteous recommen- dation of a Parisian friend, I had the favour of being introduced to the inner circle of the asso- ciates of the celebrated Victor Hugo, and visiting the residence wherein for many years he found asylum when banished from his La Belle France for the great crime of writing down the so-called Napoleon the Great and dubbing him Napoleon le Petite. But Hugo eventually came off victor, as his name predicted. The pen of the ready writer, more than a match for it, vanquished the im- perial sword. When the Emperor, in his turn, was banished, and lay dead and buried in a foreign land, Hugo was invited to return, and was honoured in the National Assembly as the tutelary genius of the French people. So popular are the productions of his fertile pen that, as I was assured by a most intimate friend of his, every word he puts on paper for the press means for him a pound of sterling gold.The rooms in his Guernsey residence, decorated in red, for the re- ception of Garibaldi, are there still nmnumenting the expectations once cherished, and the great disappointment felt when the Italian has failed to realise his anticipated visit. The "old man elo- quent who has shone so conspicuously before the public, and has played such important parts in the world's drama, has had to drink deep of the Marahs of life's desert journey. The prema- ture death of a promising son, who, brokeD hearted, followed to the grave his affianced, a be- loved daughter of Guernsey, was a source of bitter trial to the bereaved father. But his tears of sorrow, instead of blindinghim only telescopically, enlarged his vision. Tiny quenched not the fires of hope which burnt heaven high in his breast. In the briny showers he beheld loveliest rainbows. At the tomb of his intended daughter-in-law he delivered a funeral oration, and gave utterance in his inimitable style to sentences which, tremu- lously conscious of utter inability to do so worth- ily, 1 can hardly venture to translate. He said in substanceinthe course of his address, Our eyes are made to weep, but also to see our hearts to suffer, but also to believe. Faith in another life proceeds from the faculty of love. The tangible being has disappeared, but has not departed. The dead are invisible, but not absent. The grave is a place of restitution. The soul delivered from the body is de- livered from want, delivered from burdens, delivered from fatality. Death is the greatest liberty. It is the grandest progress." We are held captives, spell-bound by the at- tractions of these garden-like isles, and are veiy loath to depart, but the fascinations mast be resolutely resisted, for wo are bound for the uttermost part of the earth—our destination is Finisterre. Jersey must be touched from the French boat, and the short stay made there affords us a peep at the wonders and curiosities of St. Heliers—noted for its cabbage sticks, eau-de- cologne, shilling a pound tobacco, and other articles dispen-ed with so cheaply owing to the exemption from duties enjoyed by the islanders. The capital has 30,000 population, and its busy new market place, its charming cemetery, and its magnificent vineyards are worth visiting. A resident would have us believe that here he could keep a horse and carriage and pass rich with a hundred pounds a year. Loads of handsome potatoes are seen all the day long passing down to the docks for shipment. But potato merchants, like coal merchants, who look well after the most conspicuous lumps on the surface of the heavy- laden truck, and other dealers who will see to their having the best things shown in the windows, are wise in their generation, and the stranger must not take it for granted that the creatures beneath are always equal to the good-looking ones exhibited on the surface of the cask in which they are packed. St. Heliers, with its busy em- poriums, illumined in the evening, emulates the brilliancy of Paris. To the alarm of the Protestant community, a number of Jesuits who years ago were expelled the continent, bought property and settled down at Jersey. Most of them, judging from the uncouth appearance, awkward gait, and unpolished demeanour of those who walk about, have not been drafted from among the higher grade classes of people. Jer- sey s men of light and leading have not been slow in distributing tracts and supplying the people with the past history of Jesuitism, in order that, having been forewarned, all should be forearmed to withstand any bewitching encroachments upon their ancient faith. They have drunk deep of the fountain which inspired the heroic Wycliffe, who, when he had made up his mind to die, was so moved by the appearance of the hated monks who came to offer him their death-bed ministra- tions, changed his mind, and mustering courage to rise again, exclaimed, "I shall not die, but live to declare the evil deeds of the Friar-s 1" The voyage from Jersey to the French coast is a. most enjoyable one. The sun's rays dance on the placid waters like diamonds set in emerald. The queen of the night modestly veils herself with transparent white clouds, and the gorgeous pano- rama elicits the admiration of all. Madams and madosdls bask together in sweet sunshine, masters walk leisurely backward and forward along the deck puffing cigars, others have formed them- selves into groups to compare notes or happily while away the time. Various nationalities are here reprcseated some are bound for Belgium, some for Switzerland, others for various parts of the continent, and one, at least, is fully bent on reaching, impossible, theend of the world. His coadjutor and co-agitator, feeling unequal to the task, acted tergiversation at Jersey, where he was solicitously watched, aud assisted to the boats, which made progress backward for sweet home. The voyagers, therefore, proceeded alone. Some wonder at his intrepidity, and cannot understand the interest he feels in the inhabiters of such a country as that outlandish Brittany," towards whose coast we are now gazing. Bretons, whatever besides they may be, are human beings, and we are interested in them as such. An ancient philosopher* said, In substance I am a. man, and all men belong to me." Bretons are to Welsh people not only men but also kinsmen. In his age of rigorous thinking, bold excur- sions, and daring enterprises, when any- thing like an inverted cone wanting its proper base to stand upon is unceremoniously floored some may venture to call in quest'on the natural identity of the older inhabitants of Wales and Brittany, or Armorica, as it was anciently designated. The investigator has, however, no room iu his mind for an inkling of doubt about it, no ground for Scepticism to rest the sole of her foot. The testimonies borne by history to the old connexions which existed between Wales, Corn- wall, and Brittany [during the first centuries of the Christian era and long afterwards when they were held together by the ties of consanguinity in conjunction with comparisons of the language in- stitutions, traditions, social customs, folklore and superstitions of the inhabitants of the three countries, land us beyond any vestiges of doubt regarding their racial identity. When we travel back to trace the origin of the Bretons, we behold our forefathers rolling westward with the sun (for civilisation has hitherto travelled from east to west) in huge waves of populations from the neigh- bourhood of Babel's tower,deluging the continent, j until they reach the remotest part of it at the world's end in Brittany, and then the most adventurous of them crossing the channel to colonise thife island, wherein we, their descen- dants, now live, and move, and have our being, Again, from time to time, when hard pressed by j titemies, or driven by storms and persecu- j tions, the insular Britons recrossed the channel in quest of refuge, and were receiveid with open arms by their kinsmen in Gaul. This is the theory which has hitherto found favour in my eyes, but it is fair to state that the erudite Henri Gaidoz, editor of the Revue Cd'imic, no mean authority, during his late visit to Wales, assured me that the Britons were a distinct colony of emigrants from Wales. He emphasized the assertion, and pronounced it as a hist on ca7 fact And it will be observed that the description given of Brittany in our contemplated sketches will be to a great extent descriptive of Wales as it was two or three centuries ago. Much of what has long since become fossilized in Wales still flourishes in Brittany.

THE FREEMINERS OF THE FOREST OF DEAN. THE DEPUTATION TO SIR HENRY I LOCH, K.C.B. On Monday morning the delegates appointed by the committee of freeminers of the Forest of Dean to hold a conference with Sir Henry Loch, with reference to the ^proposed bill for dealing with the mmeral resources of the Forest, again met to discuss the proposition of the Woods and Forests to purchase their interests for £5,000. The Crown is now drafting a bill for dealing with the minerals in the Forest, which it is alleged cannot be properly worked without a general drainage scheme, and this can only be attained by pur- chasing the interests of the freeminers. The freeminers deny that they are an obstacle to the development of the Forest, and throw the blame on the Woods and Forests. At their meeting on Monday morning, Mr W. Blanch Brain (the chairman of the freeminers' committee), said that they had carefully con- sidered the facts put before them on Saturday. They fully recognised the importance of removing all obstacles that stood in the way of opening up further sources for developing the trade of the Forest. Notwithstanding that vast numbers of the miners had emigrated, there was a rapid in- crease in the population. The freeminers and foresters generally had a veneration for the turf upon which they were born they were free- holders by birth, and they were opposed to, and only accepted emigration on compulsion. They contended that they were not obstacles to the iree development of the Forest of Dean and he could spjak confidently, as a mining engineer who, along with others, had ten years ago sur- veyed the Forest, that a general drainage scheme wa-3 neither difficult nor expensive. The deputa- tion answered that it would be their wisest course to put before the large committee of representa- tives the statements of Sir Henry Loch, and then they would report as early as possible. They would have been much better pleased if a higher sum than £5,000 had been named. Sir HENRY LOCH observed that J65,000 was much higher than Mr Forster Brown, the under- gaveller, had represented the compensation to be worth. If they took into consideration the value that the freeminers had in these 4-5 gales they really must thinlc themselves that they were ex- ceedingly limited, and the gales were only of value to the freeminers when they were forfeited. The freeminer, when he acquired the deep gale, sold it to some third party; and this third party,besides paying the freeminers one-third interest, had been paying dead rent for a great number of years to the Crown. The Crown had admitted by this bill that there were very great d fficulties in the way of the galees winning the coal, and therefore it stood to reason that the Crown would deal very leniently with these galees, before they for- feited the gales. The galees had paid from year to year large sums in the shape of dead rent. The Crown naturally admitted that there was great difficulty iu their recouping1 themselves, and would not hastily be inclined to forfeit those yales, and it was only when it had been forfeited that the free miner could come in again. It had been said on Satur- day that some of the deep gales had been held for I forty years, and possibly under the present con- ditions of things they might be held other forty years to the detriment of the Forest and the free miners. It was to relieve that, and to get over that difficulty that he was so anxious that an under- standing should be arrived at by which capital migot be induced to How into the Forest to open those ga!es, and he believed the only course was that recommended in the bill, viz., to name fixed royalties for a long term of years, which would induce men to come forward and risk their capital. On Saturday no practical sug- gestions were made by which the difficulties of opening the gales could be overcome. He had not the slightest doubt in his own mind that it was in the interest of the freeminer as much as it was in the interest of all concerned in the Forest of Dean that they should accept the pro- posal that he had made to them. As regarded the management of the fund to be created by the compensation, he desired to put it in the hands of the freeminers themselves. Instead of their heredi- tary rights being in coal it would be in money and the coal was exhaustible, whereas this fund would be invested in perpetuity for the benefit of the freeminers. Within the next 20, or 30, or 40 years very few of the 45 gales probably would be forfeited, and possibly not more than two 01 three freeminers would be benefited by them, but the whole of the freeminers would be advantaged by this proposal. He wished they would very anxiously consider this point. He sympathised with them with regard to the sentimental part of the question but still there were questions above sentiment, and when they came to consider the proposal, he was sure that they would agree with him that it was desirable to come to an understanding. Mr CrwFT W. DEW doubted very much whether a bill would be allowed to pass with such a small amount of compensation as £5,000. When he suggested compensation to the committee, they would not hear of it at all whatever the amount. They would see what they could do on their re- turn. Other members of the deputation having ex- pressed similar sentiments, Sir HENRY LOOH said that if they insisted upon increasing the compensation, then the Crown would have to consider whether they should not withdraw the bill. He had offered more than Mr Forster Brown thought they were entitled to. He looked at it as being an immediate advantage to the freeminer, in consequence of the increased labour, and an immediate advantage to the galee, because he would be able to get down to the coal which he had been paying for so mauy years pa-st to the Crown in the shape of dead rent. He was actually proposing what would be a loss of revenue to the Crown, which was rather a bold thing for an official to do. Mr DEW said it was their bounden duty to fight for as large a compensation as could be got, and if it were increased, the greater would be the likelihood of the bill passing. He did not think it would pass with the proposed compensation. He supposed they would be at liberty to appear before the com- mittee, but of course it would be much better to increase the compensation and have the matter settled amicably. After some further discussion, the deputation cordially thanked Sir Henry Loch, and wished him all success in his new post of Governor of Victoria. Sir HENRY, in reply, said he should come down to the Forest of Dean and bid them good-bye, and he should be very much pleased if they accepted the terms proposed, which, ho was convinced, were for the benefit of all concerned in the Forest of Dean. The deputation promised to lay the whole case before the committee of the freeminers of the Forest, and withdrew.

SHIPOWNERS AND OVER- LOADING. The special correspondent of the Standard at Shields thinks that" a little plain sense and plain English should be talked about overload- ing. The tales about wicked owners sending vessels to sea to be lost are, he says, mostly wild exaggerations, but the question of overloading is a different affair. There is a great deal of over- loading, there is a good deal of improper loading, and if any given hundred of experienced sailors be picked out and examined in private, so that their unhappy timidity may be overcome, it will be found that a large percentage of them can give definite instances, with names, dates, voyages captains names, and cargoes carried." lhe following are a few instances The other day a most respectable owner, a credit to his class, said I do not believe in the existence of overloading; I would go to sea to-morrow in command of any of mv own vessels. Well, at that very moment a vessel was lying at Smith's Buoys on the river Tyne. She was bound for New York, and she was really most scandalously overloaded. She was so deep by the stern that she would have assuredly been swept had she ever got away before the sea, and the men who saw her shook their heads and winked in the solemn fashion of waterside characters. The captain came off, and when he saw his ship he promptly said, I shan't sail in the vessel in that state.' He insisted on lightening the vessel at once he set his own men vigorously to work, and succeeded in suiting his ideas of safety. Walk a mile by the south side of the Tyne, and you can find a score of men who will give every detail regarding this occurrence. The owner was as innocent as a child. It turned out that the merchant had taken the cargo in bulk,' and the stevedore had made an endeavour to put as much on board as possible, with the result that he accidentally went a little over the mark. Such a thing may easily happen. Take a case of a darker colour. A ship was sent to sea terribly over- laden. The captain was as fine a fellow as ever stood on a bridge, and be took his risk like a man' but before sailing he wrote a letter, which, with its hard and restrained pathos, is enough to wrine one s heart. He said to his fa-ther," We are badly overladen, and I do not think we shall return any more. This letter was brought out at enquiry after the poor fellow's prophecy had been fulfilled. It is now in Mr Chamberlain's possession, I believe. Pass on to another ca^e. This ship went down, and an enquiry was held. The court decided that she was overladen upon which the owner jumped up, and made protestations until he was silenced. The ship was bought for £24,000; she was, according to the evidence given, insured for £33,000, and the fact that the owner cleared £9_000 by the loss of the ship makes it easy to understand his strong feeling when the court settled that the vessel carried too much cargo. The owner was nowhere near the place when the ship started, yet he was held responsible." There is in all such cases the correspondent believes, no ultimate thought of the insurance. The captain has his own life to care for, but he does not think that a few tons of extra cargo put his life in danger. The owner is possessed by the spirit of competition. He would be grieved if his property were lost, yet he ia not inclined to censure one of his captains who beats his rival, bocause he finds by experience that, after all, a vessel will stand a great deal. An eminent authority has said that adulteration is a form of competition so is overloading. Once we get clear sight of this, we may easily find a remedy, without striking at the vast system of insurance on whioh our commercial system is actually based."

On Sunday night, a farmer, named Cuff, and Bis wife were burned to death at Kilbeg village, within half a mile of Claremorris, through their house taking fire. The affair is attributed to wilful outrage. The police are investigating the circumstances,

FOOTBALL. INTERNATIONAL MATCH AT CARDIFF. IRELAND V. WALES. raa^, long and eagerly looked forward to b) .n:^ional wintei' Sume" resident ia i ?e at that town ou Saturday. A pan meetin wLr"0"!i .imP°rtan«) of the contest, th* ? additional iuterest from tlie fact that Dlaved it r/e lr^ int6)uatl "1 match ere. on whio'i an t -'i also t,le occasion Irish international team pltyime if warmVh has visited Wales, thong? if warmth and cordiality of recention carry any weight it will certainly not he the last. Oil all sides every thing was done to make the representatives sides every thing was done to make the representatives of tlie sister isle feel that they were among fn-iul.s- Even in so small a detail as the colour c.F the bill" announcing the match a national weakness had heen studied, these being printed ou paper of a very pro. nounced green tint, and bearing on the ton tho kindly Irish and Gaelic motto, "Cead Mille Farlthe" ("a hun >red thousand welcomes"). The match on Satur- day was tim, d to commence at 3.1b, but long before that h >ur was reached large numbers of people had taken up thoir position at the lopes surrounding tho enclosure, all discussing the prospects of the coming game. At the outset tho general opinion was that the fight would be keen aud evenly contested, but later on it became freely a.ss«rted to be an easy affair for Wales; inasmuch as the Irishmen had not been able to secure the.services of several of theii best men. As a matter of fact the visitors only mustered 13 men, and he aid of Purdon, of Swansea, aud Jordan, of Newport, had to be requisitioned to supply the v-cant place In the Welsh tea n. too. there we eseveral alterations Han. cock, Siadden, Roderick, and W. J). PhiiPn3 reo'laeine Allen, C. Newman, T. 1>. Jones and M^ve Thl home men tirst took the field and were I udivan plauded, tiie cheers being not less cordial when » minute later the Irishmen stepped onto the ground The Welshmen wore the orthodox scarlet jersey and pll/me. their opponents being attired in white and green, with shamrock. Coming now to the play itself, it cannot ba questioned that the Wel-hmen were in every way the better lot. Forward the teams were wcit matched, the Irishmen, at times, indeed, appearing to be even a li,tle superior here. Behind the scrim- mage*, however, they were decid diy infer,or. Their passing was wild and uncertain, their tackling not up to the lnaik, with OiJe or two exceptions Oil the other hand, after the first few minutes' plav the Welsh bac s worked together like a machine, the passing beh'g of a very high order o merit. Taylor, Norton, Hancock, and Stadden all showed remarkably good form, and Barlow also dese ves cr.dit for hill back pi iy. Hisplnce-kick from the try obtained by Norton in the second half was certainly'disappointing, but this failure was amply atoned for by his play all through. Among the forwards Lyne..Simpson. Gould, and Clapp exhibited good "play, and this remark npulies, indued, to the whole team. Among the Irishmen Warren was the most notic able of tho backs, and Moore among the forwards dis- played plenty of dash. As will be seen below, the re- sult was a highly creditable v ctory for Wales, and this ought to go far to console them for their want of success in the previous matches against England and Scotland this saason. The attendance was probably the largest ever seen on the Cardiff ground, some estimating it at as high a fi^uie as 10,000, though this would prob.ibly be fouud to be above the mark. The utmost good-feel- ing wa.s di played throughout, and applause was freely bestowed m recognition of any piece of good play, with- out distinction of side. The afternoon was dull, but otherwisü not unpleasant, rain, fortunately, save for. short-lived shower, holding 0;). At about half-past three, Moore, the Irish ca, tain, started the vall from the Westgate-street end.' The return was met by a rush on the part of the visitors' forwards y. hich had the effect of sending the leather across the line and beyond the boundary—a touch-in- goal. Barlow dropped out and, when a long shot had been ghen in reply, Taylor put ia a big- kick, after which the hall was worked into touch in Wel ,11 telTi. tory. From the line up, Norton passed t Taylor, wJyr, sprinted well down field, invading the visitors quarters. Good passing by the Irishmen carried play further afield. No little time was lost by the ball getting frequently into touch. Lyne at length broke through and dribb'ed towards the Irish position, but the advan- tage was not maintained, a loose kick sending the oval back to its former position in neutral ground. Hancock passed to Norton, the latter failing to hold the ball, and then Gwynn gave Tay or an opportunity that wasut.iised fora huge drop. A regular fusillade between the backs ensued, terminiting in the ball falling in touch. At about half-way, Hancock received from Norton, but was upset by Moore, and Welsh ground invaded. he Welshmen, resorting to passing, gained a few yards, and a rush on the part of the r forwards, in which Lyne and Goldsworthy were conspicuous, caused hostilIties to occur inside Ùle Irishmen's 25 yards. Warren reo lievei the pressure by-dribbling well out to tialfway, from whence tbe leather was worked on Welsh ground, and into t iuch. Gould attempted, uiisuccess. fully, to get away from the hole up, and some play of a give-and-take nature followed. Warren secured pos- session from a scrimmage in the centre of the ground, and running well up towards the Welsh goal, passed to Moore, who tossed it back to I, ames; the last-named man was tackled in the nick of time by Barlow. A series of scrimmages now occurre in the vicinity of the Welsh stronghold. Moore made several gallant att-emots to score, but the defence was too good. Eventually play was forced to just clear of the 25 flag. Here, again, much time was lost, owing to the ball repeitedly finding its way into touch. The game w is growing a trifle monotonous, when an alteration was effected by Taylor, who by a un kick shifted operation- to the centre. Stadden got away from the outskirts of a scrimmage, passed to Norton, who immediately handed it on to Taylor, and a drop kick from the Kuabon man caused play to be in I he neigh. bourhood of the Irish goal-line. The ball was sent outside the 25 flag, whence Taylor, by a neat kick landed it some few yards in front of goal* Stadden managed to secure possessi n whilst in this position. ;jid cleverly dropped it over the bar, amidst a perfect storm of applause. On the ball being restarted, Gwynn partly returned, and a lot of fast play between the forwa ds brought the ball on to Welsh territory. Warren again came to the front with a smart dribble, and Moore sending the ball over the Welsh line. Barlow touched in defence. After the drop out; Lc first scrimmage was formed in neutral ground. A plucky elfort 011 the part of Noiton to get away failed. Warren punted in the direction of the Welsh goal; Barlow's return was nullified, tho ball sent again across the hue and once more the Welsh- men were obliged to touch d ,wn. Barlow sent the lull out, and some tight play followed in the centre of the field. Another rush on the part of the Irishmen caused play to be dangerously n ar the Welsh line, one scrim age occurring rigilt in f, ont of the uprights. Gwynn dribbled through a crowd, and, being well backed up, the sieee was effectually raised, and the ball taken to mid-distance. A punt landed it hack on to Welsh ground, and the arrival of half-time found hostilities prugressing here. Breathing tillie having elapsed, the teams crossed over, and the bali was set rolling by Simpson,the Welsh leader. After a inter- change of shots between the backs, a scrimmage oc- curred at about half-way. Some splendid pas ing be- tween the Welshmen gained an appreciab e amount of ground. The L ish forwards, however, by one of their combined rushes, recovered this "nd invaded the Welsh 25. Hancock obtaining the ball hereabouts, from Norton, ran out to the centre in grand style. An instant 1 iter Hancock again received the hall, iliis time from Gwynn, and cleverly dodging tte first two or three men who endeavoured to intercept bim, ran to wi, hin a few yard- of the Irish goal-line, passing at the finish to CUpp, who was enabled to get across. The place was at a difficult angle, and Barlow, though he made a good attempt, failed to cover the bar. Flay was re- smiled at half-way, when Morrow had sent the ball out. From a scrimmage the Welsh pack broke through a.nd caused aft occupation of Irish ground. Hancock put io a punt, and Green retaliated with an effective run to mid. distance. Taylormadeagrandkick, which was met andre- sponded to by Morrow. Purdon sent the leather into the Welsh 2b, but it was immediately returned by Gwynn into touch at half-way. The Irishmen from here started a rush, and were going rapidly down the pound, when Taylor succeeded i obtaining the leather, and by a really magnificent kick landed it v eil back. Norton was speedily on the ball, and having almost a clear tield ah. ad, with th exception of one or two of the backs whom he easily distanced, worked it across the line. Enthusiastic applause greeted this and from the position of the place (in front of the posts) it was hoped another goal might be added to the score. The sequel, however, upset all anticipations, Barlow sending the ball against one of the uprights. The Irishmen touched in defence, and operations were re- sumed at the centre of the ground. Passing was re- sorted to on either side without anything noteworthy beir.g accomplished. A loose kick transferred the ball to the Irish quarters within the 25 flag, It was not. however suffered to remain here long. and accordingly a few minutes later the game wa.s being contested on more even terms. Norton came out with a canital sprint, and very narrowly escaped getting across the Irish line, Moore holding him just at the critical moment. Neutral ground once more held the players. Here some skilful work on the part of Taylor, Lyne. Simpson, and Goldsworthy caused the visitors to be penned for a tune. Morrow punted out. stadden, Ilancck, and Norton displayed their skill in passing to advantage, and together made an incursion into the Irish quar- ters, and the ball occupied this portion of the ground when, shortly after, I. no side" was called, the score reading—a'es 1 goal, 2 tries, and 1 toucli-down to 2 touches down and 1 touch-in-goal. At the conclusion hearty cheers Wire given for both teams, and as the players threaded their way across the field to the gates, those of them who had specially distinguished themselves wvre accorded an enthusi- astic reception. The following comprised the teams ;— IRELAND.—R. W. Morrow (Belfa t), back E. H. Greene (Dublin University) and J. Pedlow (Lurgan), three-quarter backs; R. Warren (Lansdownp).and ff. F. Spunner (Limerick), half backs D. E. Moore (Wan- derers), F. "Brown" (Wanderers), W. S. Collis (Wan- derers), L. Moyers (Dublin University), A. J. Hamilton (Lansdowne), — Eames (Dublin University) J. Fitzgerald (Wanderers), H. G. Cook" (La.n:downe), T. Purdon (substitute), and C. Jordan (substitute), forwards. WAL1.-S.-T.M. Barlow (Caidiff), b ck; C. G. Taylor (Ruabon and H M.S. Marlborough), W. B. Norton (Carmarthen), and F. E. Hancock (Cardiff), three- quarter-backs; W. H. Gwynn (Swansea), and W. Stadden (Cardiff), half-backs; H. J Simpson (Cardiff), I. J. S. Clapp (Newport), R. Gould (Newport), H. a. Lyne (Newport), J. S. Smith (Cardiff), J. T. Ilintou (Cardiff), W. B. Roderick (Llanelly), H. Goldsworthy (Swansea), and W. < £ >. Phillips (Cardiff), forwards. Umpires.—Ireland, Mr H. 1- Robinson (vice-presi- dent I.F.U.); Wales, Mr A. Duncan (Cardiff) referee. Mr G. R. llill (hon. sec R.F.U.)

THE WELSH CHURCH. Lately (says the ^Rhyl Journal) the standing committee of the S.P.C.K. recommended a grant of £ 1,000 towards assisting the Welsh Churcli press, but in the last monthly report of the society we read as follows Welsh Periodical.—The standing committee reported (at the March meet. ing) that they had been informed by the Bishop ™ -Ldandaff that the bishops of the Welsh dioceses were not prepared to take the responsibility of administering upon a new venture so large a sum as £1,000. which the standing committee had given notice that they would recommend the society to vote." Leave to withdraw the recommendation was then Briven. It has always been said that the Welsh bishops desired to discourage Welsh literature and it appears from the above that their lordships are rejecting a handsome offer from the S P C K owine- to their inability to "administer" tbo amount. In the absence of some satisfactory explanation, the bishops' conduct appears on the race of it to be most reprehensible, if not scandalous.

THE EMBEZZLEMENT BY A SALFORD RATE-COLLECTOR. At the Salford Hundred Quarter sessions, which were opened on Monday at the Assize-courts, Manchester, Alfred Herbert Allen, clerk, 40 years of age, was indicted for embezzling J693 138 4d belonging to the township of Salford. The prisoner pleaded guilty. He was assistant overseer, a.nd part of his duty was to collect the rates. In September he began to take sums of money, and he ab- sconded on the 4th of March. He was afterwards apprehended in Birmingham, and an examination of his books revealed defalcations amounting to £1,382. The prisoner had been twenty-two years in the service of the Fu <-fu ankb°rities of Salford, and it was stated that the cause of his dishonesty was unfortunate building speculations. As the prisoner had given guarantee for £1,000, the ratepayers will suffer only to the extent of £250, Sentence was deferred.

At Hull police-court, on Monday, Adoloh Gats* fisherman, was remanded for eight days on the charge of the manslaughter of Charles Burton Cook, on board the Hull smack Woodlark, on the 10th inst., by striking him and causing him t* fall overboard.