Synopsis of Previous Chapters, t CHAPTERS I. and II.— Mrs La Roache and daughter, Claire, drive to Castle Pi unbar. O'Keefe, the driver, refuses to bo paid night. Tbey arrive at their destination, are welcomed by Timothy Sullivan, the old servant left at the Castle, which is ^tabling into ruins. From the hall Claire and ,#r toother are taken by the crazy Sullivan to a lore olii bedroom, which has not been occupied at least over half a century. Everything ?1,1 tatters. Moths and bats aboand. Rats S?1 be heard scuttling under the wainscoting, immediate demand of the newcomers is for They partake of a miserable sapper, after the old man produces a pack of cards. 7^'re soon sees that he is a born gamester, and to play with him. He retires muttering '^geanee. .^HAP ITERS III. and IV.—Mother and daugh S? Pass a weary night ensconced in chairs. ^"6 mother sleeps, but the daughter sits listen- »°K to all the uncanny sounds, and conjuring fcr eraef the imaginary terrors of the night. They ?*e disturbed by the? arrival of two men on horso- stranded wayfarers, who believe the Castle ? "e uninhabited save by a lunatic. The two promise the help and assistance of two *°meu, which relieves the situation somewhat. p1 the morrow Claire intercepts a beautiful Irish girl carrying a can of milk. This takes Miss La Roache to the cabin of Mrs "*jeary, where the good woman gives her a Seal, and she has a wash. She accompanies ^l*ire back to the Castle, where she provides a breakfast. During the course of the morn- ^viaitors arrive. ► CHAPTERS V. and VI.—The visitors are Innisfail and Mrs Archil Browne, mother ''d daughter. With them are the two men they in the night. The Roaches show their visi- j?1* their ruin, and are afterwards taken to Mrs £ *chie Browne's home, Sunaotara. Mother and r^Kbter discuss Mr Urquhart. He is secretary Philip Trent, the millionaire, who is ex- ited shortly to be a guest. After admiring the Mrs and Miss La Roache descend to the I, where Claire converses with Major Clifton, CHAPTER VII. k. Y^re found herself seated by Mr Urquhart J^'ttnch, and before they had risen she felt that !?6 bad never vet talked with a man with whom felt on such good terms. He was more than i^Perficially sympathetic. Without the need for ?s 8Paaking a word she felt that he appreciated bbvt-r-vth i n gtb at was upon her mind. She had j^roe aware of this during the drive from ^jtetle Finnbar to Suanamara. The impression r^ich he produced was that she had known him her life—that if she were to find herself in Position of perplexity she would go to him ? the certainty that he would be able to relieve mind from all doubt as to what course she; ould adopt. tie did not convey to her the idea that he was t^azingly clever people do not believe implicitly J amazingly clever men. They have an idea v*t amazingly clever men are usually amaz- selfish, and so they are. Mr Orqubart had r'd no particular thing that impressed her, but I had never been otherwise than impressive so as she was concerned. He had never for a v^tient been commonplace, and he had rarely amusing. But, as before, he had given her Understand that in an emergency she might on him. «he could scarcely understand how it was that °?her people seemed ta refer to him as being so ^"Ver. Here and there among themselves a re- had been made bearing upon his cievar- P88, and it had been invariably followed by a b-not a laugh of derision, but a laugh that suggested that Mr TJrqubart had an Inject in view—that in tbe colloquialism of 5Hior Clifton, he knew jolly well what he was •bout." U If ahe had been aaked point blank whether she him or not she would Dot have been able to But, of course, there was no one at hand cePt her mother who had a right to put such t^Hestion tjo her and her mother being care- to make up her own judgments of persons ?8fore she had seen them, and of incidents be- they had happened was not likely to become ftllsJtorial. Bat for one thing she felt grate- f"1 to Mr Urquhart-he had said no word about r father. He bad not assumed the attitude of greater number of English speaking neople JJ*h whom she had come in contact in various ?**ta of Europe in regard to her father—an ^tude of chilling suspicion. 1 Who is he ? .mea Lord Medway. iL^glish-speaking people who habitually visit ^Continent are, she bad noticed, inwiably JrfWcious of English-speaking people who aJ^^Hilly reside on the Continent, Most of whom she had met had put a few questions »her aD^ her mother respecting their 'people, hearing at the outset that their family name 2? Roache. and that it had acquired the definite through Colonel La Roache s connection the French Army, they had forthwith tt¡llmed that Colonel La Roache had been an adventurer on the Continent, and that his and daughter were trying to carry on the profession. iw*he result bad been that neither she nor her had succeeded in forming many firm among English-speaking people on Continent of Europe. Least of all had they tJ? much to do with English mothers with ?5|*&-up daughters. These were the most chill- of aj] K^he wondered if in crossing the Channel to .a she had come into a new state of life-a. I h of life in which only nice people would play All the people around her were quite Nice people are those who ask no quea- Site had long ago learned to hate the Jj^'ioning people—and so many people had re- lied her mother and herself as questionable. nt m Ireland everybody seemed to take-every- for granted. k^nla jt be, she aaked herself, that Irish were sufficiently adventurous to admit tjnt1U:ers into their circle without inquiry? the past year or two she had come to I t* of her mother and herself as successors IQ J father in the profession of adventure, and w^l that she should feel in some measure Of^atQed of it. Sbe wa3 never actually ashamed V fact that her father had been inclined to She was not even ashamed when it leaked 4( Vfhat he had been a Chevalier of the Legion K5*°nour in France before he had forsaken the service for the Austrian, which, in turn, Vetted for the Bulgarian. She had never °f his being lower in rank-or higher— tC^colonel, but she had been told that only in vL^nitea States is a man's holding of bis rank I VJ?ted a guarantee o^ extraordinary per- &*eru so she had neVer allowed herself to into the thought that the fact of her being a colonel in the Bulgarian Army itia>ded him from holding high rank among rS,adventurers on the Continent. as has been said, she had never qcute felt W t of his adventurous career. In fact, in Vij moments, when she became con- of being the descendant of an ancient race *btine men, she had felt a thrill of P^de, upon some of the things that had done. He had fought under his ^countryman MacMahon, on the disband- Of Garibaldi's army; but it was not in Sa?&thy with his genius to jom with any °f enthusiasm in the reorganisation o J^ch Army. After a year or two he would l'*U» f°nnd. if anyone had been sufficiently ^»!l6!ted in him to look for him, m the Aus- i ^'my. He himself could never explain I jk'ooeht him there but he frankly ad- b^^d that he had gone to Bulgaria because he I 4 to*!611 that that State would be the centre of J Jj*do of war within a year or two. A heen disappointed in this respect. Of there had been a scrimmage two, but j Were scrimmages to a man who looked for 06PPreach of a Russian Army from one 1 r and of a German from another What s xp3ettinK °f an applc-eart to a man who -j a collision between express trains J the twirl of a Japanese fan to a man tft^^eorological register forces him to think ^i^adoes ? There had been an unworthy or two and in order to wile away the he was tapping his nolitica- aneroid, he had got married. it ers- tsuiiton was the daughter of a S^h-^hose name was certainly not %L ,f5.3" He had wandered about the Balkan r some years obtaining concessions v10? he 8) between the Revolutions, and pfc had died. The fact that she was an constituted in the eyes of Colonel La her supreme qualification for becoming iv ^he fact that she had never been one moinent of her father's death had pre- *»auy another ineligible man from pro- l her- J: J?** ahjo pretty and penniless and these l "q t'O her- J?** also pretty and penniless and these ij II whiefa tbe •Irtitaman in Bolgari* could not resist. He made no attempt to do so. I He married her within a month of her father's aeath-a space of time which seemed to pass very slowly, for it included as many attempts to assassinate him as an ordinary man meets in the course of a long lifetime. Miss Villiers- Staunton, in common with a good many Bul- garian ladies. skilled in the use of the knife, not exclusively for domestic purposes, was des- perately in love with him, and she was content to accept all that he had to give her. It was not much beyond his devotion, but .when a woman really loves a man she will be ready to resign herself even to a life of opulence for his sake, and Colonel La Roache and his wife were very happy together, nor did the lawyer's letter which the lady received from England six months after her mairiage, informing her that her father's will had been duly proved, and that it was found that so far from being penniless she was entitled to an income of five hundred pounds a year out of her father's estate, diminish from the happi- ness of their union. No one was more surprised than Mrs La Roache at such a result of the administration of her father's estate. Colonel La Roache had always suspected Mr Villiers-Staunton of being an adventurer, be wore so many orders Mrs Li Roache knew him to be one. But he bad died leaving the sum of 110,000 admirably invested in English securities, and his daughter had in- herited it all, less the cost of probate and ad- ministration. It appeared that Mr Villiers- Staunton had always bad a morbid dread of his daughter falling into the hands of an adventurer, and thus bad been prudent enough to conceal from everyone the result of his prudence in monev matters. He had no difficulty whatever in posing as a man who lived by his wits. His daughter's income, however, jojned to her hus- band's enabled them to make something of an appearance in Sofia, and though the Irishman had often talked of the castle of his ancestors, and of the longing that he had to return to it, he was too true to his nationality ever to make an attempt to divest himself cf the interest which attaches to an exile. He knew that the Irish- man (with a castle) in the object of universal pity at home, but an [rish exile (with a castle, either in Ireland or SDain) is the object of uni- versal admiration elsewhere. After thirty year. of fascinating exile he died and his wife bad for long been aware of the fact that in spite of all that she could do to make him happy he cherished a secret sorrow— the country was settling down, and he was weary, waiting for the approach of the Russian army from the North and the German army from the South. "I am killed because no one will come to slaughter me," he had once said, and his wife, who after twenty-two years passed by his side had begun to understand him, know what he meant. That was all the story. Only on the death of the head of the household, Claire and her mother had lived in various parts ot Europe, and once, for a month or two, in England. Then that strange yearning had come upon Mrs La Roache to inhabit the Irish castle which had once been her husband's. She had entered into correspondence with Mr Sullivan without in the least knowing what Mr Sullivan was like, and now- Well, she was sitting on a very comfortable sofa in her dressing-room watching the sunset sending its windmill fans flying high in the sky over the Atlantic and te right and left of the purple mountains.before her. There was a red mist in the air, with here and there a flare of old; then a crimson sponge of cloud dropping blood into the waters--7% convulsive motion of gold flakes falling upon the heather-a. puspicion of saffron and pink—a band of rose petals twining round the peak of Slieve Gorm-blne- ness among the nearer glens. The silent silver tarn slept like an uncut jewel in the hollow of the hills. The riband of the sunset's weaving was seen by Mrs La Roache's daughter the fact being that when the party in the hall had separated I after tea she had seated herself in a too com- fortable place in the hollow of a convex window just where the curtain which ciossed the half- circle was draped against the oak at one side. She had laid her head upon the leathern back of the window seat and enjoyed a tranquil view of the scene before her eyes, for the sun had not yet touched the topmost twigs of the Ard- shean pines, and the rocks had not yet begun to give notice of their sunset flight to the far-off woods of Innishtorrig. It was a tranquil hour. The murmur of the voices of a couple of men who were smoking on a terrace, exchanging briar root stories, a sentence or two between puffs, and a longer murmur following the tapping of the rim of an empty bowl on the seat, only added to the general impression of tranquility of which she was conscious. Then in the fullness of her en joyment, and with a sense of the dimming of the evening, she ventured to put ber feet up on the window seat. Then the son went down to the feathery tufts of the distant firs, and shone through the interstices, giving an effect of golden osierwork -peeled-osiers interlaced with black; and all T?as very tranquil. Of coarse she fell aslsep. To talk of love is to make love. ro watch a sleeping landscape is to become sleepy. Claire had only had an hour or two of sleep daring the previous two nichts, and now slumber came upon her and took possession of her in an instant. She woke suddenly, in the blue shadow of the twilight. Murmurous voices were closer to her, and before she knew that they were confidential voices she was in their confidence, and it was unnecessary for her to stir, even if she had thought of stirring. a year ago," were the words-they were uttered in a baritone—at which she became an unseen listener. "Yes, it must have been a year ago, just," came an acquiescent treble. Just. And then you said that, perhaps, you were not sure of yourself," came the other. And I was not sure of myself. That was a year ago." "The way you say that makes me feel hope- less, Evey." There was a:long silence. And that long silence makes me feel more hopeless still." "Alasl Alas You are not sure of yourself yet ?" Alas I Alas I" What do you mean ? Give me a chance, Evelyn. Let it be as it was before-you have not yet made up your mind." II So sorry, Lord Medway I I have made up my mind." ogainst me ?" "Ah! How can you or anyone say whether it is for you or against you?" How can anyon3 say;?, Well, I think I could manage to say whether it is for or against me, Evey." Not you. If I were to tell you that I love you sufficiently well to marry you, it might be the worst thing that ever happened to yon." It would be the best." Ah, that is the way men speak. They are all so certain. We are not so certain. Good heavens I If girls thought only of themselves— their own happiness I But they don't, they think of you." ,I That makes me feel hocefal. If yon think of my happiness you will- "Oh, it will not do for as to talk, except straight, Lord Medway," Lord Medway—Lord—that makes me most hopeless. You used to call me Brick." I will talk to you straight, Brick. A year ago I think I cared a good deal for you--I know that I did, because I care a great deal for you now. But I told you that I was not certain that I loved you enough to satisfy you, and myself. I admit uiat I thought of myself. Well, during the year I have found out that I cannot love you as you must be loved by the girl you are to marry. I thought a year ago, six month# ago, that I could do it. I swear to you, Brick, that I hoped with all my heart—prayed, prayed even to God, that I might be ableito do it. Ob, I must go away now, it's getting so dark and only the end of September How the even- ings are Don't go, Evey. Don't leave me alone. Are you sure of yourself in regard to-to the other man ?" There was another long pause. It really seemed to Claire that the girl was sobbing. There was a feeling of sobbing in the silence. Don't you mind me," said Lord Medway. Don't think of my feelings. Only tell me straight, Evey. Are you sure of yourself in re- gard to the ether man ?" Don't ask me--oh, don't ask me, Brick," she said in a pitiful whisper. I tell you that I am conscious of being moved against my own will-" moved in one direction when I am longing to go in another. I suppose that is what love means. A tyranny—a dreadful, hateful tyranny. Bnt, oh, my God it is love, love, love, and I am a feather upon billows—a feather of down. I sup- pose it's the same with other ''girls—perhaps all other girls—against our will, mind—that's the r^ueer thing. That u why there are so many wrecks-fest,bars upon billows." She walked up and down the room. Claire heard her, and held her breath. And then the heavy drapery which concealed Claire and the end of the window seat on which she sat swayed until the drapery actually touched the back of her head. The rings at the top rattled on their bar. She knew that the girl on the other side bad thrown herself into the curtain, a hand clutching the tapestry on each side. Claire somehow was as well aware of the pose as if the curtain had not been between her and the other. And then came the girl's whisper. It was scarcely audible. Brick, I would give everything in the world to be able to love you. Not like this, not like this, but in the way you would want to be loved by a good woman." ( And you will, Evey, some day," said he. I cannot—I cannot j I love someone else," she cried once again, almost piteously. That does not matter," said he, doggedly. You will come to know that you love me, not another. I can wait, Evey. You are worth waiting for." There was another pause; then the curtain was suddenly released from .the figure of the girl who bad been folding it and holding it about her. Claire heard the little laugh that she gave—it had the sound of a gasp-a laugh at the end of a long breath. pkwmo beard bei say. Oh. yes," be said I'll go away. Bat 111 come back to you don't doubt that. ni come back to yon to help you out of your difficulty,and you will welcome me." Oh, go away," she said. Poor Evey. My poor little Evey," said he, and Claire heard the door close behind him. The next moment there was toe sound of a iittlecry; it was just like the pathetic little plaint of a lamb that has strayed from its mother the curtain was flung aside and the girl threw herself—not down upon the window seat which sha had meant to throw herself on, but into the arms of Claire. She started back with a barely stifled shriek. Who are you ?" elie said, after a moment's recovery. I am your sister," said Claire. I heard everything. I could not help hearing every- thing. I was asleep when you came into the room. You had both spoken before I was aware of it, What could I do ?" You could do nothing,of course. Well, Miss La. Roache, you have been present at a very funny scene. Were you not amused ? I know that if I had been in your place I should have betrayed my presence by my roars of laughter." Oh, for heaven's sake, do not talk in that way," cried Claire. "Laughter? Ob, I wept; I weot. I am weeping now. I never thought that there was anything so full of pathos in the world. I was never in the presence of a woman — a woman —before. Oh, don't let us talk about it. I will think of it as a dream that I have had. You told him to pray for you. He will do it—so will I I am your sister." She was standing up face to face in the dark- ness—the room was now in complete darkness- with the other girl, who put both hands out to the other girl. She did not respond at once. After a few seconds of distrust, however, she threw her arms about Claire and kissed her twice, thrice, on the face. My name is Evelyn Carnaleigh," said she. I am the most; wretched girl in the world, but somehow I feel better for knowing that yon over- heard my secret. It is no secret now." It is your secret still it is my secret oar secret," said Claire. Oh, I need not make any affirmation, You would not have kissed me unless you had folt assured that you could trust me." I 1 Claire could hear every word. That is true," said the girl. u, I will show I yon how far I can trust you, for I will tell you more than I told him. I will tell you the name of the other man—the man who made me lov% him. No, no for pity's sake, no," cried Claire. I will not hear it—never—never." The other laughed. I feel much better for knowing that you overheard all that you did," said she. "You will Dray for me." I will pray that you may be happy," said Claire. Not that—not that," she cried. Do not pray for my happiness—my happiness is nothing. Pray for his happiness." His ? His ? Lord Medway's or the other's ? Whose happiness am I to pray for ?" God knows-God knows," said the girl. And then the dressing gong sent forth its mild thunder. CHAPTER VIII. It had been a delightful day, although Mr Marvin had been present. This was, roughly, the result of a consensus of opinion among the party who had dined with Philip Trent aboard his yacht, swinging at her moorings in Lough Suanagorm, Mr Philip Trent had steamed into the loagh a few days before, his approach being heralded by about a thousand telegrams addressed to him. Mr Trent was one of those modern business men who conduct all their correspondence by wire- telegraphic kncl telephonic and his private sec- retary's private secretary was ikkept pretty busy replying to these communications. They related mostly to certain minor transactions in the busi- ness--trivia,hties involving at the very most a profit of twenty thousand pounds a year but it is just over such pettyfogging affairs that some people are most fussy and some of Mr Trent's correspondents were very fussy. Mr Uiquhart knew bow to deal with him. He was never dis- courteous, he was merely discouraging. And thus he kept his employer's correspondence within reasonable limits When he had been at Suanamara for a couple of days, doing a little shooting, fighting a salmon or two and sending off telegrams by the thousand—the telegraph operator at the village— a young lady who had sent off as many as fifteen telegrams during the previous six months—despatched II. mesRage-on her own account to the Poetmaster-General ask- ing him if he could spare her six assistants—Mr Trent took a party from the honse for a day's cruise in the Curlew, They had steamed outof the lough and along the magnificent coast for fifty or sixty miles, thereby enabling Miss Fos- berry to get a capital snapshot of the majestic headlands of Ardreagh—quite a notable result of the day's excursion- and in the evening they had dined together on the yacht. Of course, they could not expect anything but the simple fare of yachtsmen, but they were content to rough it with a refrigerator and a chef whose name was known in every part of the dining world. It was generally admitted by his guests aboard the Curlew that Mr Trent's chef managed with great adroitness to take the rough edge of roughing it. The dinner to which he ventured to call their a ttention was worthy to be placed as a work of allegorical art alongside the Bar- berini Vase or the friezes of the Pantheon. It was not symbolic, it was allegorical—as anyone could preceive who studied every canto of the carte. It dealt with the mystery of human life —its mingling of tragedy and comedy—from the cradle to the tomb—nay, beyond it; for one of the incidents of the menu was a certain Creme de Vanille a la Portes de Perle," which more than suggested a beatified hereafter. How could any company lail to be in a con- tented state of mind—Monsieur Adolphe's plats, like all inspirations, were spiritual rather than mental; but still they gave a tender animation to the mind-the delicate brush as of a butterfly's wing—after dining off metaphors ? That is what someone inquired over a peach—from which the stone had been extracted, crushed and replaced in frozen form with a flavouring which, though partly spirituous, was entirely spiritual. But Mr Marvin had been present. He rarely neglected a function that had any possibilities in it, and dinner aboard a millionaire's yacht had many. Mr Marvin was known as the Inter- preter of the Primeval; and he sometimes did succeed in making people uncomfortable. He saw everything in the world of to-day as it ex- isted some hundreds of thousands of years ago— he was not particular as to a few hundreds of thousands, it made no difference, he said. He could not perceive any change in anything of nature, the fact being that nature was unchange- able. There were no men in the world who were not savage, and no women who were not pre-his- toric. They were still animals of the trees and caves—yes,he thought that a recent ancestor was probably arboreal; and the first thing that a man child, or for that matter a woman child, did on getting into the open air was to climb a tree. Climbing trees and robbing the birds' nests of eggs—eggs which were quite useless to|the boy or gj £ j were the natural instinct of tbe child. The I child did not know why it found a tree irresist- ible, horrid though it was to climb owing to me unhappy dropping of a tail- a prehensile tail of an ancestor who took his ease swinging from a bough and not sitting on a rock. It was a disgrace to whip boys for bird-nesting and for robbing orchards, he declared, and the boys were on his side to a man. Boys now and again collected eggs, until the eggs became a nuisance to their relations; but they rarely col- lected apples or nuts—ah, nuts-n-ate. Why should nuts be so popular among boys This was the arboreal instinct. And girls—did it ever strike anyone that women still wore their hair long ? Yes, it did not require the adventitious aid of a coiffeur's advertisement to make everyone aware that both men and women had a great admiration for long hair in the latter. Yes, but why ? Why, simply because another ancestor—a hun- dred thousand years or so advanced in civilisa- tion from the" probably arboreal," was ac- customed, when he had chosen a certain wonwii to be his wife, to carry her to his cave by the hair of the bead,which formed a most convenient medium of towage. This was a very horrid revelation for Mr Mar- vin to make to Mrs Archie Browne and her guests, several of whom had very beautiful hair.and they did not hesitate to say so; which was very femin- ine, and to be very feminine was, as Mr Marvin was careful to explain, to be very contradictory. And therefore very charming," Mr Urquhart suggested. But Mr Marvin was not so sure of this. He said it was very feminine to pretend not to want to be haled to a eaie, and yet to wear the tresses of primeval woman. "Depend upon it," said be. if the women did not want to be dragged to a cave by a total stranger they would have worn their hair short. But as it is they still wear long hair. That is because women are still pre-his tone. And men still look on women's tresses with admiration. That is becanBe the world only contains primeval That is because the world only contains primeval men." Thank heaven," said Lady Innisfail, quite piously, I Mrs Archie Browne, who had spent all her earlier years trying to keep her mother from saying these things PiooslJ. œi«1,. WPWVWgly > Oh, mother," [ And then Philip Trent,, making an attempt to save the situation, said gaily Mr Marvin, come for a cruise in my boat on Wednesday, and I will guarantee that for one [ day at least you do not find anything that is prehistori&or primeval." Mr Marvin had accepted the invitation with the smile of a man who knows. And that was how it came about that the other people declared on returning from the cruise and the dinner that the day had been a delight- ful one in spite of the presence of Mr Marvin. It was really not until tiffin was over—a tiffin in sympathy with the splendid swing of the Atlantic swell-that Mr Marvin had become horrid. You will smoke one of my Partagas, you will find nothing primeval about my Partagas at any rate," said Philip Trent, offering him the box of cigars. There were only fifty boxes of such, cigars in Europe, and forty-nine of them were in the possession of Philip Trent. Not in the individual cigar," said Mr Mar- vin, who knew a good cigar, and enjoyed con- suming it with the best of ignoramuses. "No, not in the individual cigar, perhaps but, of coarse, you knaw why men took so eagerly to the idea of smoking." I suppose it was because they bad been told not to," said Mr Urquhart. I know that is why I took so kindly to it." Mr Marvin. smiled that pitying smile of his which made him so many enemies. It was re- ported in Royal Society circles that that sncile of Mr Marvin's had retarded by quite half a century the advance of the theory of Evolution. "It is rather extraordinary that no monograph on the origin of smoking has yet been written," said he. It has puzzled many people who only look at things superficially that men should adopt a practice which-looked at saperticiall-v- seems objectless, if not objectionab lt.f not ab- solutely ridiculous and quite disagreeable. It is quite disagreeable, you know." "I have never smoked one of your cigars," said Archie. Tell us, now, is there a catch in it." But smoking has become all but universal," continued Mr Marvin. "Why?" Grateful—comforting," suggested Mr Trent. You won't go so far as to deny that it is com- forting, Mr Maryin ?" Certainly not," said Mr Marfsn. But why ?*' „ I don't suppose you know after all, said Archie. Tell as now, is there a catch in it ? Do you want to lay a trap for an innocent juggins, like that one about the man who had twenty-six sheep one of them died—how many were left ?" Having a lighted pipe or cigar at nand con- veys to one a sense of comfort and contentment simply because the earliest man who experienced something of the difficulty of obtaining fire, and yet knew that a fire was indispensable to his comfort, had a feeling of contentment when a fire-a single spark of fire that could at any moment be fanned into a flame was beside.hi m. The fire was the most precious of the possessions of primitive man, and our contentment with a pipe is merely a survival of his cherishing a Bpark." _> Did he piay skittles ?" asked Archie Browne in a fine spirit of derision. There is every reason to believe that oar skittle is merely a survival of some game played with an enemy's skull," said Mr Marvin, calmly. Bravo," said Archie. You read a paper on that subject, and the tobacco trust will give you a medal." That reminds me that the war medal is un. doubtedly the modern eauivalent of the early scalp," said Mr Marvin. The warrior who possessed the largest number of scalps was natur- ally the most highly honoured in the tribe. But civilisation came in its train, and the wearing of human skin, ins perfectly tanned,was discouraged. But the original impression was far too strong to be eradicated, hence the metal medal was in- vented, and men are agreed in honouring the wearer, on the same principle that people have an instinctive respect for a man who wears a coat lined with fur. The fur meant the successful hunter and the successful hunter was nearly as highly esteemed in the days of primeval man as he is in an English county to-day." All this is new to me." said Archie. But I suppose it will be taught in all the nurseries in another fifty years—it will take quite fifty years, I should say." You need not think that for a moment," said Mr Marvin. No, my dear Archie, women, 1 regret to say, women--especially mothers-are just the same to-day as they were fifty thousand years ago. I have listened at the door of a nur- sery, in no spirit of idle curiosity but in a purely scientific spirit, and what did I hear that mother telling her year-old child." I know," shouted Archie. "It was the story of the pigs that went to market." That was the story that followed," said Mr Marvin. Between the first communication to the infant and the second, there was an interval of at least ten thousand years." Don't tell us that you waited all that time at the nursery door," said Lady Innisfail. You really are a very naughty man, Mr Marvin—oh, you know that you are." "It is very kind of you to say so," said Mr Marvin. But what I heard at the nursery door was what might have been beard by any cave-dwelling husband on returning from the jungle for the night. The mother was teaching her offspring the various sounds of the jungle. What does the cow say ?' she cried. The cow says moo-moo now what does the cow say In Borne cases with the adroitness of a mother anxious to make her offspring appear in a favourable light she hyphened the name of the animal of the jungle to the sound it nro- duces. What does the moo-cow say ?' What does the baa-lamb say ?' Nay, she went even further and actually referred to some animals not under their names, but by the sound they emit. What does the bow-wow say ?' she cried. Then she asked, What does the donkey say ?' Oh, I say, that was a home- thrust. You went off like a tennis ball then, I'll swear," said Archie. I waited nntil I actually heard that mother try to frighten her child to sleep by assuring it that if it didn't lie still a great big bear would come round and eat it-' gobble it up I- that was the phrase," said Mr Marvin. Just think of it. There was that jungle mother in- structing her infant, not in the elements of civilisation, but in the common wisdom of the jangle." All this is very interesting," s*id Mr Trent; bat where does it lead one ?" It leads one back to the jungle from the higher mathematics and the American gum trust," said Lord Medway, "And what is the good of being led back to the jungle—unless Mr Marvin is led there and gets eaten by a tiger ?" asked Lady Innisfail. Did your mother ever teach you what the tiger says, Mr Marvin ?" said Archie. I have made these investigations in no par- ticular interest, I can assure you, said Mr Mairvin. Only now and again in the midst of that veneer, that transparent varnish, which we call civilisation, it is as well to recall the fact that men and women are the same now, funda- mentally, as they were, say, a hundred thousand years' a.go-that man is simply the head of the brute creation." Oh, we all knew that, said Lady Innisfail, with joyful alacrity. Yes, and that modern woman possesses and rejoices at possessing all the original instincts of the jungie mother," said Mr Marvin, com- placently. There was a murmur of disapproval from tha women—a chorus of disapproval from the men." I believe in religion-they had no religion in those days," said Mrs Archie Brown, gravely. What people call religion in one age is what people call superstition in the next," said Mr Marvin. "The growth of religion is one of the most easily traced of all developments. Why do people sing in church ?" You don't.you old reprobate, and I shouldn't care to hear you if you di d." remarked Archie. Singing as part of a religious service had its origin in the jungle," said Mr Marvin. "The idea was, of course, that the Being whom it was thought advantageous to placate, being invisible, was far off consequently the medium of nlaca- tion was shouting, accompanied by the tom-tom. Well,singing and the organ are the modern equi- valents of the shouting and the tom-tom." This is shocking, said Mrs Archie. And I don't believe a word of it. The religion of the jungle was sorcery and witchcraft, and dreadful things like that. I have heard that there are still devil-worshippers in some of those dreadful places in the interior of Africa. I read all about it in some book the other day. But, of course, Africa is Africa." "Africa is Europe as far as that is concerned," said Mr Marvin. There is not much to choose between the continents in the matter of super. stition. Your most civilised people would wor- ship the devil if they thoagnt they could get anything out of bim." Oh. Mr Marvin, that is unscientific. It's unworthy of von to make a bare statement like that. Yon have hitherto been quite scientific but now you have become simply Polemical" -said Philip Trent. T L I admit," said Mr Marvin. I have not yet collected sufficient data to justify my speaking with confidence-my usual confidence Ahen," came in an acquiescent chorus from right and left. "My usral confidence, on that point," con- tinued Mr Marvin. My thoughts were turned to what is called witchcraft and devil-worship as a field of investigation only the other day, when I chanced to be writing in a room in a house where I was staving, and one of my fel- low guests-a religious woman-stole in with another—also religions—and began to arrange packs of cards in a corner, after the most ap- proved fashion of mediaeval witches, and one of them interpreted them quite solemnly for the other, talking sotto voce, about the approach of a dark man with a large fortune, and equally solemnly—about the possible unfaithfulness of a young man, fair, anJ inclined to be under- sized. How delightful. I have seen really wonder- ful things done with cards," cried Lady Innis- fail. 11 Thinps have come out exactly as they were predicted. Archie, I remember now dis- tinctly hearing that there is a witch in the neighbourhood. You must nnd her out for us- you must indeed. It will be such a novelty. I have often heard of Irish witches, but I never actually eaw one. You really must find her out for no. She is sure to be uncanny, and I simply adore uncanny things. Goodness knows what we may get out of her. She may be able to tell us what to do to win always at Bridge." I Oh, mother, I really cannot allow you to talk in this way," said Mrs Archie, in her most distressful voice. Nonsense. A witeh will be a complete novelty and we are simply dying of ennui," said her mother. Archie,you must find that witch." Philip Trent laughed and begged of M-r Urqu- hart to pass round the cigars. Mr Marvin, taking another cigar, smiled the smileth of e savant, and murmured j This is not primeval woman, only mediaeval woman. But the witch is a link—a distinct and tangible link." H« had««9a interest on the -face-a of'afl the women present at-the men- tion of the word" witch," He knew that be had not succeeded in interesting them by all his lore. (To be Continued.)
New Names for Pies. "This pie is entirely too affectionate," com- plained the Cheerful Idiot. What's that?" asked the puzzled waiter girl. I say it's too affectionate—the upper crust is struck on the lower. Bring me some of that dropstitch pie over there." And after some difficulty it was beaten into the head of the distressed maiden that he wanted some of the cranberry pie with the lattice-work cover. He Was a Rude Man. John." said the young wife who prides her- self on being sensible right up to the limit, "just notice how easy-fitting my new shoes are." Yes, I see," answered John. And John," she continued, do you know why I always get my shoes so large ?" Oh," replied the ungallant other half of the sketch, 1 suppose it's because you have such big feet." Similar but Different. Hello, there, cully," exclaimed the bank burglar as he encountered an acquaintance, are you still picking poskets ?" Sure," answered the light-fingered gent; but I've got a new scheme for doing it that side-tracks the police." Put me wise," said the b. b All right, but keep it mum," answered the other. I'm running a railway lunch counter. See ?" Not the Hose She Wanted. I wish to purchase some lawn hose," said the lady shopper. "Yes'm," murmured the salesman, peering over the counter and gazing intently at her shoes. Rubber," she exclaimed. Pardon me," stammered the clerk, I was not rubbering. I merely wished to estimate what size yon wore." Sir-r I I want rnbber lawn hose." Had it not been for the timely aid of the floor- walker the salesman would have sent the lady to the department where they sold rubber stockings for huntsmen, For, as he afterwards explained, he was new to the business and did not know but there was a new fad for rubber hose to protect the feet from the dews of evening. Wheret Her Pain Was. Margarèt is us, !y a very good little girl, but the other night she could not stop playing even after her little nighty was on and she was in bed. So mamma felt obliged to apply the slipper in the good old fashioned way. It was a tiny punishment which hurt Margaret's feelings much more than her small person, and she could only manage to squeeze out a tefu: or two before she shut her eyes and was fast asleep. But the next morning she had time to remember. It was at the breakfast table that she remarked casu- ally I dot a bad pain." Where is it-? asked mamma, filled with anxiety at once. I dot a bad pain," repeated Margaret. Mamma's little girl must tell her just where it is," said mamma, taking the child in her arms. The expression on Margaret's face was a look of sorrow rather than anger, a look of gentle reproof, as she replied solemnly :— Jus' where you 'panked me." A Kentucky Joke. Although the Master Car and Locomotive Painters' thirty-fourth convention had been on at the Victoria Hotel, in Chicago, several days, it wasn't until Thursday that anything an out. sider would appreciate happened. Then Clerk McHenry came into the lobby with a jug. It was only a little jog, but he shook it and the gurgle of something liquid could be heard through its stone exterior. "Oh, ho, a souvenir I" cried Peter Thames of Louisville. Where do you get them ?" See Mr Bowers, room 132," came the answer. With that Mr Thames and three or four of his boon companions hastened to interview Mr Bowers. Give us a souvenir," they shouted. Corkscrew go with this ?" asked one man, Why, you don't want to drink- He was too late. All the real Kentucky gen- tlemen had corkscrews with them. They had opened the little brown stone jug and tossed the- staff down. No type can show what they said. No, it wasn't water. It was an oil for car paint. It wasn't dan- gerous, but there was a great cry for doctors. And when the victims had been nursed back to. health again they got satisfaction by sending all their friends up to room 132. When Grog May be Taken Medicinally. Grog may be taken medicinally- After eating goose or duck or pork, or any other seasonable delicacy. Invariably after eating salmon. When there is any washing going onat home. Whenever the painters or carpenters are work- ing in the house. When you feel faint, and don't know what is i the matter with yourself. Always when disappointed. When 9 friend turns up after a long absence, or when you are parting with an old friend, or even when meeting a chance acquaintance. When you have the toothache, or when about expecting it. When you have lost at cards, or become Btony broke through horse-racing. When you have unexpectedly come into large property, or have been left a sum of money. When you have been overtaken by some great misfortune, or made a tremendous bargain. When you have quarrelled with your best friend also when you have made it up again. Whenever you feel thirsty. When you have sat out a five-act tragedy also between the acts. When you are sitting up for your wife to re tarn home. Oil occasions when a friend drops in to smoke a pipe. Whenever you are invited to have a drink. When you haven't the wherewithal yourslf to ipay, and a friend asks you And when you are not expected to return the compliment."
IN A 19ft. BOAT. Foolhardy Transatlantic Voyage The Cunard liner Etruna, which arrived at Queenstown on Saturday from New York, after a stormy passage, brought the news that the British steamer Greenbrier, bound from Man- chester to Kingston, Jamaica, spoke the sailing- boat Columbia II. in lat. 37-21 north, long. 42*45 west. having on board only one person, who was endeavouring to navigate the little craft from Boston to Marseilles a distance of 4.910 miles. The Greenbrier bore down on the boat, and discovered that its sole occupant was a Cap- tain Brown, who was then 37 days' out on his perilous and dating voyage. Captain Blower, of the Greenbrier, had bis steamer hove to, and per- suaded the skipper of the boat to come on board. The latter did so, and explained that his boat was 19ft. in length by 6ft. beam She was decked all over, except for a simple cockpit necessary for steering purposes. After leaving Boston he put into Halifax for fresh water. On September 6 he experienced a terrific gale, which upset the little craft, throwing Captain Brown into the sea. After hours of very hard work, during which he several times narrowly escaped drowning, h< succeeded in righting the boat, and managed tc ) scramble on board more dead than alive, and with the loss of his fresh provisions and water. He suffered greatly from want of fresh water, but as there was considerable rain he succeeded in catching some in his oil-coat, and this he believed saved his life. Captain Blower endeavoured to dissuade the daring seaman from contining on his voyage, but without success. Having got a quantity of fresh mutton, soft bread, some rope, and some books, he took farewell of Captain Blower and his crew, and, joining his little craft, Droceeded on his lonely voyage, con. fident of reaching Marseilles.
GLAMORGAN COUNTY RATES. Call on Merthyr Union. Mr F. T. James, clerk, stated at the meeting of Merthyr Board of Guardians on Saturday that in respect of the forthcoming call for the half-year the proportions worked out as follows Abei- dare, JP,9,458 Gelligaer, t7,102 Merthyr, £ 13,074; Penderyn, S-700; Rbigos, S565 Vaynor. S601, It was proposed that a precept for a first call of half these amounts be signed. Mr David Evans, Merthyr, moved an amendment that the precept be not signed on the ground that they were not in possession of specific information as to what the county rates included. He saftrted that in the whole of the district autonomous and non autonomous scbools were made chargeable as far as elementary education was concerned.— Mr Wills And so they should be.—Mr Fmans 1 That is your wisdom. Merthyr and Aberdare will be doubly rated to the purposes of edumtion.- Mr John Lloyd, Penydarren, seconded the amendment. The Clerk replied to and cor- rected observations made in discussion, pointing out that the figures charged against Merthyr and Aberdare would enly be the exact amount of the county rates charged against them. The county held in effect they were not bound to explain how the county rate for Gelligaer and Rhigos was made up. The first call upon the parishes was adopted, as proposed, by a vote of 17, to 6 for the a mendment.
Mrs Trubbles Doctor, can you do anything for my husband ?—Doctor What is the matter ? S -Mm TrnbbJes: Worrying about mcmeyA- OwfcK: all right.
Y GOLOFN GYMREIQ, Dymunir i'» gohebwyr Cyroxeie gjfeirio ea ge- hebiaethau, llyfrau i'w hadoiygu, &c., fel y canlyn: Dafydd Morganwg, MorgsawgSense, Llantwit-street, Cardiff."
AT EIN GOHEBWYR. Mis J:Ly&of.Ymddengys yn feaa. Y Mynydd.Ymddengr. I Godi'r Hen Wiad.c,.wtrw:1dydig-.ar y llinellau. Yr Enaid"—Yn ei dro. "Y Ddafad."—Gan mai liuosog yw "egia," anmhriodol yw dweyd •' eginau." Newidiwyd ychydig ar yr englyn. Diolch am y Cynhauaf."—DrWg iawn genyf fod y gelfyddyd mor wallus ar y llinellan. Dim ond eu banner sy'n odli. Y mae yn llawn mor anghenrheidiol odli y iiinell gyntaf a'rdrydedd ag ydyw odli yr ail a'r bedwareda, ac felly y I burned a'r seithfed.
CYSTADLEUAETH Y GOlOFN. Mae cais wedi dyfod o ragor nag un cyfeiriad am gael ychydig ddifyrwch cystadleuol o byn i'r Nadolig. Yn awr am dani ynte:— Testynan, a Gwobrwyon. I. Am y Tawddgyrch Cadwynog goren, ar nu- rhyw destyn. Gwobr, CyfansoddiaaauBuddugol Eisteddfod Liverpool, 1884 pris deg BWllt. D.S.—Ni wobrwyir penuill anngbywir. II. Am y Gan oreu (dim dros gant o linellau) ar Arferion Llygredig yr Oes. Gwobr," Hanes Crefydd yn Nghymru," gan D. Peters i pris, 5s 6c. III. Am y Pennillion goren (dim drcs 100 llineil) ar unrhyw destyn lleol. Cymreig, Gwobr Gwaith Barddonol Dyfed," Cyf. I. IV Am y chweah Pennill goren i'r Ardd." Gwobr, Gwaith Dyfed. V. Am y saith Englyn gorea i Ddyddiau'r Wythnos." Gwobr. Cyfrol o Farddoniaeth. Telerau 1. Y gystadleuaeth yn gyfyngedig tOhebwyr y Golofn. 2. Nid oes ganiatad j'r un person email mwy nag un wobr. 3. Bydd Ail a Thrydydd Wobr ar bob testyn. 4. Y cyfansoddiadau ■ fod mewn llaw ar nea cyn Rhagfyr y cyntaf.
BARD DO N IAETH. Y FFLAM. Golea cu'n tyfu o'r tan—ydyw'r ffiaaii Dry hoff le'n fwv dyddan Seren y lwvs lusern l&fc Yn syllu y nos all an. Rhydri. Dewi Aur.
'DARLUN. Eulun del yw darlun da,—sy'n hawlio Syn olwg ami dyrfa; I oesan'n wir dangos wna Ar len, yr hyn ddarlunia. Rhydri. DewiAor.
"GWYN A GWRIDOG." Gwyn a gwridoR yn Ei gredo—a gwyD Er gwae y croeshoelio; Ie, "gwyn" hyd y glyn a' i glo,-ac yn 1, wyn" Efe wnai esgyn yn fwyn Ei osgo I Iesu "gwyn Ei oes a ga--fawl byd ban, A nwyfus anian y Nef-hosana.. Treioris.
Y BERWYN. Yn Ngogledd Cymru tyru'n gylch terwyn A'i enw'n buraidd a wna'r Berwyn; O'i hun y deffry o flaen y dyffryn, Dan rawd a molawd haul gwresog melyn: Uchel y dyrcha,—gyra ei goryn Eon ei ddnliwedd. i'r gwawl yn ddillyn, A gwych ei glog uwch y glyn-dan lif tes, Hedd yw ei banes mewn bro ddi-wenwyn. Treforis. Treforfab.
MIS HYDREF. Hydref oer llwydrew fwria—hyd anian Nes adeni gaua'; Naws ei fin a'i nos fyna Ddinystrio gwedd a hedd ha'. Pencerdd Mellte.
BEDD ANIAN. Anian bur, werddlas tr, Chwaon oerion Yr awelon Rydd i'w swynion boen aehur. Ar ei sedd ni cha hedd, Cluda'r hydref Ei gwir dangnef I'w lwm gartref,—wele'i bedd I Trenga gwrid hon i gyd, Am ryw enyd Bu ei bywyd, Byr a brau, 'n h&rddu'r byd. Anwyl hll. pa'm na cha Dy flodinos J Fythol aros Yn y byd heb wylnosia? Megys dyn, anian gnnt Heb ei gwenau, Teimla bithau Ar ei bronau angau blin. Cleddir o yn y gro, Trenga anian Dyner, eewan, Ar fron eirian hydawl fro. Ferlau man eira glan Ddaw yn hyfryd Glaerwyn gwrlid Dros oer weryd bywyd can. Wyla ser gloewon Ner Ddagrau purlan Ar fedd anian, Ffarwel hugan werddlas der. Syn ac oer, wyla'r lloer Wlybion ddafnan Mud deimladau Ar gorsena crinion dae'r. Wyla'r haul bob yn ail Ddeigryn cynes O'i bur fynwes Ar brudd hanes rhos a dail. Wyla'r hy' gwmwl du, Yn ei dristweh, W Ii th tynerweh 1 Ar dawelwch anian gu. Willesden. Llinos Wyrb.
EURFRON. Nis gwn pa beth y geilw Angylion hi yn awr, Ond Enrfron oedd yr enw Ro'ed iddi ar y llawr, Mae enwau'r Nef yn dlysach Na'n henwau tlysaf ni, A gwn fod enw harddach Nag Eurfron arni hi. Na ddigiwch, engyl hawddgar, Wrth un yn mro y bedd, Am alw enw'r ddaiar Ar un yn ngwlad yr hedd. Ei henw i mi fydd Eurfron, Nes delwyf ati'i fyw, A dysgn i henw newydd, Yn nghartref cariad Duw. Bn bysedd cariad ffyddlon Yn rhoi ei henw lawr Ar sDwellen fy nghalon, Mewn afar lyth'renau mawr. Ac yno yn dysgleirio Arouanfc hyd y dydd Caf wel'd fy Earfron eto Heb ddeigryn ar fy ngrudd. Pan gollais ol g arni, Yn gwyllwch nos y bedd, Fe'i gwelwyd yn ngoleuni Y Nef yn hardd ei gwedd. Mae beddyw'n chwareu'n hvfryd Yn ngardd Ei balas Ef, Dan gysgod Pren y Bywyd Yn casglu blodau'r nef. Pan ro'ir i mi ollyngdod I fyned adre'n iach, Yn rfaedeg i'm cyfarfod Caf wel'd fy Eurfron fach, A ll wnder ei llawenydd Yn cbwyddo'i mynwes hi, Wrth ddweyd ei henw nowidd Yn iaithy Nef i mi. Dinas. Myfyr Cynffig.
SUO GAN. Myrdd ar fyrdd o ser s3rn canu Yn oedfa'r nos, Duw sy'n cael ei ogoneddu Yn oedfa'r nos Tyon mawl wna'r gwynt o'r coedydd, Serch at for dyn fawl afonydd, Ni ddaw ewsgii donoan'r Werydd, Yn oedfa'r nos. Deffro'r ser yn gor ysblenydd Wna gwyll y nos, Suaf fin an gan i Morfydd, Fy mabi dlos: j.; Cwsg, Ol cwsg yn nghwmni'th fami, Bydd fy serch yn dy amgylchu, Cawn wastraffn gwenau fory, Fy mabi dlos; Suo ganu lwli babi, Cwsg. fabi dlos Tecach gwawr sydd eto'i dori, Cwsg fabi dlos; Beth yw'r gofid grea'th ddagrau ? Paid a gwywo rhos dy ruddiau; Cwsg, cei ddeffro dan fv ngwenau; Fy mabi dlos. Paid ag wylo, ewsg yn llonydd, Fy mabi dlos; Cei fy mron i ti'n obanydd, Fy mabi dlos; Cwsg yn dawel, Morfydd dirion, Ar guriadau serch fy nghalon Sycha cwsg dy ddagrau gloewon, Fy mabi dlos. 0: brydferthweh I mae yn cysgu, Dwy mdd fel rhos; Diniweidrwydd sy'n pelydru O'r lili dlos Hyfryd hedd fe beidiodd dagral Ar y cochni sy'n ei gruddiau; Cadwaf hi o fewn fy mreichiaa, Drwy oriau'r nos. Melmcryddan. No fib.
NEW DEAN OF BANGOfi. Installation Ceremony. On Saturday, in the presence of a lexgocozk- gregation, the Very Rev. Griffiths Roberts. ex- Canon cf Llandaff, was installed Dean of or at ordinary evensong service at Bangor Cathe- dral. Tue service commenced with the pro- "cessonal livinii, "HOftiI Wyf Dv.Lan Bres- wyifa," and the clergy taking part in the service included the Rev. Canon Thomas Williams, Archdeacon of Merioneth, Archdeacon John Morgan, of Bangor, the Revs. Canon Jones, Llandegai, Canon John Fairchild, Bangor, Canon Lloyd Jones, Criccieth, Canon D. Walter Thomas, the caacsu-in-residence, who formally installed the new dean, and Minor Canons R. Hughes Williams and Herbert Williams. There was a large number of clergymen also amongst the congregation, which besides included many prominent Nonconformists. The chapter clerk, Mr A. lvor Pryce, M.A., son of the late dean, also took part in the ceremony, and Mr H. G. Brereton, assistant organist, was at the organ. The first portion of 4fhe service was intoned by the Rev. Minor Canon Herbert Williams, after which the Rev. Canon Thomas performed the in- stallation ceremony. Dean Roberts, who wore the robes of a Master of Arts of Dublin, after exhibiting the letters mandatory of the Lord bishop to the canon in residence, prayed to be admitted, installed, and inducted into the Deanery which had been assigned to him, according to the tenor of the letters mandatory. The chapter clerk having publicly read the letters mandatory and the canon in residence having dnly received the same, the new dean, in a clear voice, made the usual declaration, follow- ing which tbe new dean was led by the canon in residence to his stall. The ordinary service was then proceeded with, the second lesson being read by the new dean. On Sunday morning Dean Roberts for the first time preached in Bangor Cathedral, taking as his text the words, Only Luke was with me." He incidentally referred to the fact that it was in tlfei Cathedral of Bangor be was ordained thirty years ago, and added that he hoped by God's grace to fulfil his duties as dean satisfactorily.
THE NATIONAL EISTEDDFOD, Gorssdd Degree Examinations. The Gorsedd Association has just completed the arrangements for the next annual examination for Gorsecldic degrees. The examination will be held at a number of convenient centres in Eng- land and Wales, and the successful candidates will be invested with their new degrees at the Rhyl National Eisteddfod. The following are the subjects for examination Degree of Brd.- Watcyn Wyn's chair ode, Y gwir yn erbyny byd (Geninen Eisteddfodol, 1900) Beit Davies's crown poem, Tahwnt ir Llan Dsfydd MorganwWs 11 Yasrol Farddol," together with some knowledge of the works of Eben Fardd (Thomas Bueno) and Ceiriog's works (Oriou'r Hwvn ac Orian'r Boreu). The examiners for this grade are Gwylfa, Bethel,and Cynhaiarn. Degree of Ovate.—Dewi Mon's Gramadeg Cymraeg, Professor Lloyd's Hanes Cymru," Part III. and Drych y Prif Oessoedd." The examiners for this degree are Alafon, Gwynfe, and Lteufer. Degree of Druid.—Candidates must be ordained priests or rrmisters. and must pass the examina- tion prescribed for bards or ovates. Musical Dogi-ees.-Pencerdd (chief musician) To harmonise a melody, to harmonise a bass, simple counterpoint, double counterpoint, answering fugue subjects, a fugue for two voices, musical history, orchestration, questions on the compass, quality, and classification of the instru- ments. Degree of Cerddor (musician). -Adding three parts to a simple melody, adding three parts to a figured bass, simple counterpoint in two and three parts note against note; history of British composers, 7800-1850 (three musicians will be named). Degree of Musical Ovate.—Rhythm and keys of a given melody, intervals, common chord, its invertions and then progressions, harmonising a bass. principal events in the history of Welsh mnsiciaus. 1825-75 (three will be named). The examiners for the musical degrees will be Pencerdd Gwynedd and Watcyn Wyn. The papers may be worked in either sol-fa or old notation. The papers may be written in Welsh oc English, p.nd any further particulars maybe obtained of the Gorsedd Recorder, Carnarvon.
THE CHARGE THAT FAILED. Landlady and Docks Constable. Ada Chick, living in Frederick-street, sum- moned Frederick Pritchard, a Docks nolice- man, at Cardiff on Saturday for assault on the 9th inst. Mr Harold Lloyd ap- peared for complainant, and Mr Lloyci Mey- rick defended. Complainant said Pritchard lodged at her house, and had notice to leave on the 2nd inst. On the 9th defendant proceeded to take away his box, whereupon Mre Chick asked for the. rent. Pritchard, who was alleged to be then under the influence of drink, said, I'ii pay you with my fist." He then struck her three blows, in consequence of which she had to be medically treated. Replying to Mr Meyrick, witness denied the notice came from defendant, and that it was because of her intem- perate habits. The money tor rent was paid to her, but that was after the assault. She still -said defendant was under the influence of drink, although he had only just come back from drill. Witness was not drunk that afternoon.—Mr Meyrick I put it to you that yon have and are in the habit of making charges against lodgers.— No.—Djfi you not make a charge like this be- fore, and did you not say you were half murdered by one of the lodgers ?—Witness There was a case.—Mr Meyrick And was it not dismissed i -Yes, because I had no one with me.-WitnLess, in further examination, said she got her black eye from defendant while she had bergisses on but these were not broken.- -thepeputy Stipen- diary I can't see how the blow could be given with those glasses on without breaking them.- A witness spoke to seeing complainant's face swollen on t he right side, and to noticing her breast bruised. That waa on the day fo4k>wmg the alleged assault. Witness saw Mrs Chick about nine on evening of the ninth, but she had no bruises then. The Deputy Stipendiary (Mr Milner Jones) dismissed the summons.
A VISIT FROM HIS UNCLE. Licensing Prosecution at Newport. At Newport on Saturday David Charles Jones, landlord of the Tredegar Arms Inn,Cefn,appeared to answer a summons for permitting drunkenness on his licensed premises. Thomas Edwards, landlord of the Black Lion Tnn. Aberystwyth, and Ebenezer Rowlands, Ebbw Vale, appeared in response to summonses for being drunk on the premises. Mr Lyndon Moore, solicitor, appeared for all three defendants. P.C. Campbell stated that at 4.15 p.m. on the 6th inst. be saw Edwards and Rowlands being driven through Pontymister in tbe direction of Newport. Wit* ness cycled after them, and found they had gone into the Tredegar Arms, Cefn, defendant Edwards being the uncle of the landlord Jones. Witness saw Rowlands sitting down in the kitchen, and told the landlord that he was drunk. Jones replied that he had not had any- thing to drink, be saw that he was the worse for drink and refused him, but allowed him to stay for shelter with his uncle. Edwards, who was also sitting in the kitchen, with a glass of whisky and lemonade in front of him, was drunk. Defendants Rowlands and Edwards staggered on the way to the station, and Edwards had to be assisted. At the station the stationmaster refused to allow them to proceed oy train until witness and -e.C. Nurdsn, whom he had fetched from the Police Station, undertook to see them safely in the train. Witness returned to the Tredegar Arms in company with Nurden, and again charged the landlord with permitting drunkenness, and Jones made the same replies which he had given in Campbell's first visit. Mr Moore, for the defence, said it was most unfair that the officers should return to the house ana question the landlord for the purpose of using his answers in evidence, withont cautioning the defendant in anyway. The de- fendant Edwards, who had been on a visit to the district, called to see his nephew, the defendant Jones. Tbo men were shown into the kitchen, which was the private living room of the house. The men were only on the premises for a few minutes. Defendant Jones and a number of other witnesses were called, who denied that" defendants were drunk on the premises. The Bench dis missed both cases.
LORD TREDEGAR'S TIMBER SALE. Lord Tredegar's annual timber sale was held at the 8Head Hotel, Newport, on Saturday. Messrs Newland, Davis, and Hunt disposing of a number of coppice woods at Machen, Risca, Rogerstone, &c. There was a large attendance, and some spixited bidding. Details :—Nine and a half acres of coppicewood (Park Wood), at Machen, including poplar and ash trees, Mr W. Morgan, Caerphilly. E67 10s; eight acres of coppice wood (%)owf Cocbon), at Machen, con- sisting of strong pit and cord wood, Mr W. Beavis, Ponty mister. £130; 16 acres of coppice wood (Graif" Cymuier), at RiBca, including strong pit and cord wood, Mrs Roberts, Pontvwain, 10s; eight acres of plantation (Graig-Rhiw» Arwydd). at Nine Mile Point, inclnding strong, larch of 40 years' growth, Mr C. D. Phillips, Newport, £ 365 eight acres of coppice WOO, (Libanus Wooa), near Blackwood, including Ði. and cord wood, hoop and hurdle stuff, and ISr oak timbers. J. Pask, Newport, .fll? 10s U acres of coppice wood (Llwyna Wood), at Bassaleg, consisting of strong pit and cord wood, J. Paskr Newport, X70 10 acres of coppice wood (Slade'C wood), at Roggiett, including pit and cord wood. hoppand hurdle stuff, with elm and asb tnoB, Mi E. Edwards. Rosgiett, £ 67 10s 14 acres at coppice wood (Coed Cefn), at Machen, incindrnf, pit and cord wood, hoop and hurdle stuff, Mr W* Morgan, Caerphilly. fAl5 nine acres of coppte, wood (Ty Llwyd and Tymawr), at Lis vane, coo* sisting of Btrong pit and cord wood, hoop ant hurdle stuff and 1 ash trees, Mr J. Lewis, Cafc diff, E110; 47 beech and 12 oak timbers, at Man" vedw, and a ntimber of windfalls at Ruperrr Crag, Mr •1. Bask, Newport; £80, Messrs Davitf Lloyd and Wilaou, Newport, aooted as solicitors.
-=- A meet.in of the creditors of James Henrf Board, butcher, of 13, Wood-street, Cardiff, antf formerly carrviug on business at Cape Horn IDIt. Bute-street, was held at the office of the OffieW Receiver, Cardiff, on Saturday. The deficienot ft. estimated at X174 17s 3d, the assets being 18" turned at nil. Debtor attributes his fallnret* illness of bis wife and family and b«d debt*. f The Official Receiver remains trustee.