Papurau Newydd Cymru
Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru
14 erthygl ar y dudalen hon
LOVE ON A CANAL, Or, NONE,…
[ALL RIGHTS RKKRVED.] I LOVE ON A CANAL, Or, NONE, BUT THE BRAVE DESERVE THE FAIR." By James S. Borlase. A uiknr of Both Prineett and Police Spy," ".Ninø tke JfihiiiM," The Iau o'Gowrie," "Kidnapped." IHE mumifi- cent Penin- sular and j Oriental at 6 am a h i,p Bombay was pi o u g h i n g the dark-blue tidelesa waters of the Mediterranean Sea at that rapid yet regular rate of speed which enables the company to which it belongs to time the arrivals of their superb vessels at ports thousands of miles apar with the precision with which trains are timed to arrive and depart on our most crowded metro- politan lines; and the majority of the passengers aboard of her are bound to the capitals of one of our great Indian presidencies, though some few are going to China and Australia. Everyone who has travelled knows what a P. and O. boat is like, with her splendid passenger accommodation, her snow-white decks, and infinity ef polished brasswork her officers clad in dark- blue, gold-laced, almost naval-looking uniform, and polished gentlemen, as far as bearing and manners go, every man of them; and last, but by no means least, the mixed crew of British sailors and Indian iascars, these latter civil and picturesque fellows at must times, but a disagree- ablo; elftment in the social economy of the ship to nervous ladies who have fixed ideas upon the widlect of Mobamuiean fanaticism and Asiatic guile and ferocity. On board the good ship Bombay on the present occasion the stern sex predominates over the fair, for the rumour has got about that her passage through the Suez Canal may be attended with a worse casualty than the very ordinary one of getting aground-that, in fact, she may be attacked by rebel Egyptians belonging to the army of Arabi P,tsha, for a fortnight had elapsed since the cannon of our fleet has converted the once proud city of Alexandria into a heap of ozuoulderixig ashes, and Horrible Pasha" is said to have sworn that in return he will blow up the Canal and destroy every ship that dares to navi- gate it. Some of the softer sex have shewn themselves to be made of sterner stuff than the average specimens of their race, however, and they have mustered aboard to the number of about a score bye with one solitary exception these brave ladies ftre quite safe from one danger if made prisouers by Arabi's free-lances—that of being sold to adorn a Turkish or Egyptian harem, for the charms and graces that they may once have posiessed ail lie buried in the grave of their departed youth. We will dismiss them with this brief obituary, and turn to the solitary exception. Sile looks fragile as a lily, but makes up for auoh fragility by being aA fair as a lily as well. Stjange to say, her name is Liiy, and its continuation de Vere. True, rumour has it that there is an extra addendum of Smith, but the youtig lady doesn't own up to it, and we have nothing to do with rumour for the present. Our tall and graceful Lily has cf course long 8re this won the heart of every male creature abroad, and as a consequeuce the ill-concealed bale of her own sex, who suub her on all possible occasions, and call her to each other that forward hussey," or that impudent minx," while she retorts by dubbing them in a lump to her ad- Biuers as those old cats," or sometimes even M those aid frumps." For the rest, she wears high-heeled boots (which caused a cavalier's arm to be almost a nece:ssity as the promenades the deck), long Swedish gloves, iolld no enot of bangles and bracelets above them, whilst her hair is always daintily dressed, her eyes bright, her voice sweet and low, and her colour that of the delicate china rose. Her enemies declare that it is only her own in that she bought it; but then are they not ";rumps and cats," and are frumps and cats to be believed in such < matters? Certainly not. Lily de Vere presided at the piano every evening, and, surrounded by her admirers, sang "In the Gloaluing" and "Glou-glou" from "La Mascotte," and many other things into which she Could throw the intensity of har feelings, which always seemed to be rather too much for her. Yet fur ail this she was evidently not to be llgiitiy won, and did not hesitate to declare when 4jiyuue tried to make love to bar, which was, of course, a thing constantly occurring, that she W48 ()inK out to India to marry a nabob, and a 9abob she meant to have if he was as old as Uoriiuseliib aad yellow as a spade guiiiea," A;pddJie would sometimes roguishly add-" It is no good for me to think of marrying for love, you know, for I never could love anyone but a real haro, and that is an article very hard to find, and very diflpicult to be caught, I should imagine." Despite this very plain language on the young lady's part, there was one dashing, handsome, devil-me-care young fellow on board whose precepts certainly were" Never say die," and Faint heart never won fair lady." He was tall and straight, with a sunbrowned Ccaipiexion, black, closely-curly hair, a duck of a moustache (3.i even the fair Lily was bound to acknowledge to herself in secret), and, as to age, certainly not more tijan twenty-tour. For the rest, he bad a slight scar across the left brow, and was always dressed in a weli-fitting, but by no means loud, tweed suit, with a helmet-shaped cap of the same material. As to jeweilery, he wore DOJUI at all. "A most unromant-a fellow," the pretty Lily bad often thought, and yet decidedly good- looking. If that scar across bis brow were only a sabre cut, I might positively endure him. Now that I think of it, I'll ask him how he gut_it-yes, that I will.' The opportunity had not to be long waited for, I tad in the soft moonlight of the ensuing evening, M they were looking ever the vessel sside together .t the luminous water that, full of countless inyiriads of animalcui*, swirled under the counter, I and left a long track of ghastly looking phos- phorescent light astern of her, she said— Pray, how did you get that cut over your left tyebtww, Mr Jones ?" 1accidentaily came in con*"ct with a sharp pie«e of steel, Miss Smith." Miss S-nith How dare you call m. Miss Smith My name is de Vere." Also Smith, is it not ? Yon are entered by ihat name in the passenger list." Jjily felt inclined w declare that her name was wrongly entered th."in, for the hated the very lound of Smith, and had firmly made up her wind to leave the odious soubriquet behind her b the old country but there was a cynical, yet witbal humorous, play upon her companion's )' tips which she thought betokened that he would Not believe she wasn't a Smith, no matter how I desperately she denied the impeachment. So she pouied and flushed red, and then arid > iefisn^y, Well, auli wlAL Of it? I don't like the name, and so I don't own to it, though I am lure it is quite as good as Jones. Far be it from me to say that it is not. Smith is a most excellent name. I have a great respect for it. Far more thallI have for that of de Vere, for it has belonged to far more honest sine- useful people. I can't think why you hide it nr.cict bushel," "I'm sure you are not required to think any- thing about it Mr Jones," retorted Lily, highly nettled. "At all events," she added, "I will trouble you to address me as Miss De Vere when there is any occasion, that is to say, for you to address n; eat all." Siie would have left him in a tiff had be not laid a hand on her arm and detained her. Listen to me, Lily," saidihe I want to talk a little common-sense to you, which is a kind of speech that you don't get much of aboard this vessel, and therefore it may do you good. Come, don't look daggers, for you are not at all of the Lady Macbeth type, and I don't think you could frighten even a small boy of three by those glances that you mean to be killing." Do you intend to insult me, lid How dare you call me Lily ?" Because you look ao like one in this pale moon- light, for one thing, and because I love you for another. I want to teach you to love me, Lily Smith. May I try? If you were to try until doomsday you would not succeed. I would never love a Jones, or a civilian either, or man who called me by a name that I detest; so there." A man can never be truly loved by a woman who honours her follies and flitters her vanities, and I will tell you why—because in her heart she cannot respect him." Ob, I've been awful spoons on fellows who've flattered me to the nines. I like it." I'm sorry to hear it, because it shows you to be deficient in common sense." I declare in that your audicity is such as to be positively entertaining." I am delighted to hear you say so, since the majority of our savants declare that it is wise to blend instruction with amusement. Having made so favourable an impression, I will continue the lesson in the same strain. You are very young, very beautiful, and very inexperienced, Lily Suith, and you have set out on a wild goose chase, in which you will never kill or bag your Rame. Am I speaking plainly ?" With greater plainness than I am at all accustomed to listen to. Yet pray go on." "I intend to do so. Well, to begin, then, nabobs are about as rare in India. at the present time as Bengal tigers are in England, and heroes, your especial penchant, are, I tear me, just as un common. As to rich marriageable men, you have left as many behind you in Old England as you will find in the far East, and in England you might have preserved the face and form which I know are your sole fortune for perhaps a dozen years, whereas the fierce heat of India will destroy them in as many inrncb-. Well, I must say you are a Job's comforter But I suppose all these revelations have been made to convince me how sensible it would be of me to accept yourself?" "Not a. all-that is an after consideration. At present I would not marry you for worlds." Great heavens who asked you to marry me ? I'm sure I wouldn't marry you for ever so many world. with the snn, moon, stars, and even the new comet thrown in as makeweight. Yet I must own that I am curious to know what you see to at all object to in me 7" I never could refuse to gratify a lady's 01 i will be to one is curiosity. When I marry it will be to one wiio is not ashamed of the name that an honest father and a fond mother bore before her—to one, more- over, who will not refrain from making a hearty meal when she is hungry, because she foolishly fancies that it looks unpoetical or unromaatic so to do. I should also prefer a lady for a wife who was not prone to murder the most noble and perfect language ever spoken by the introduction of silly or fast slang." H Thank you, sir," interrupted Lily, with a little mocking bow but, as the clergyman says, here endeth the first lesson, and in returning thanks therefor, allow me to assure you that I would rather marry a common soldier with his thirteen pence a oay, who had fought aud bled for his country, than I would give my hand to a prig and a philosopher in Scotch twoed, who was rolling in riches," and with another mocking bow, followed by an indignant toss of the head, the fair Lily stalked away down to the cabiu. I shall make something of that little girl yet," muttered Tom Jones to himself, as he lighted a cigar. Her follies are very superficial, whilst her virtues are many and enduring. How easily I could h ive won her had I but told her that I got my tr, fl i ng facp car, and many a far worse wound as well, from Zulu spears at CJlundi; but I want her to love the man rather than the coat or the profession, so thatif I can't win her in plain Scotch tweed I'll lose her rather than call in a scarlet coat and gold lace as my allies." ft,r ;hi, b* Many a day passed by after this, but Lily Smith would not afford Tom Jona." an opportunity to commence reading "the second lesson." Again and again she told herself that she hated him, and yet, womanlike, she soon began to yearn more after the man who acted as though he could manage to exist very comfortably without her than for all those put together who took care to inform her at every possible opportunity that they were dying for love of her, or some absurdity of that sort. And now Port Said was reached, which is perhaps the ugliest place, except Aden, on the face of God's earth. Here some passengers landed, and others came aboard, amongst these latter being a monstrous fine-looking fellow, clad in a most wonderfql uniform. H s spurs were prodigious, and his moustachious were positively terrific. His eyes, too, were given to rolling fiercely, while as for his voice, it resembled a sea-captain's when bellowing through a speaking-trumpet. This imposing-looking personage—who was of middle-age, by the-bye—was supposed by all aboard the Bombay to have come direct from the seat of war at Alexandria, some 45 miles up the coast, and he soon had an eager and excited crowd gathered round him, eager to hear the latest uews. But Major Marmaduka Montgomerie—as he gave himself out to be-didn't seem to care to talk about anything but his own wonderful doings during the late horrors, so his questioners soon left him one by one, reckoning him up in their minds to be an idle boaster, and rather a clever hand at pulling the long-bow. Not so, however, Lilly de Vere, as everyone still called our lovely heroine. She-poor, stupid little thing—fondly fancied that she had come across a real hero at last, and also, of course, that such hero was fated to fall in love with her. How her heart fluttered when that very after- noon, as the good ship was navigating the buoyed channel across the otherwise shallow, yellow waters of Lake Menzaleh, thickly studded with many a sandy rock and reef, the great man condescended to seat himself beside her, and, after regarding her earnestly for a few minutes, to say— "Ah, my dear young lady, pardon my emotion —here he shed a tear, perhaps for that matter two or three, and went on to explain the cause by adding Yes, you are her exact image, and she was my affianced bride. I did what I could to save her, for I rushed upon the swarthy devils-pray excuse my strong language—and, slayliag half- a-dozen of them, or indeed it may nave been seven, for I was too excited to count, 1 raised her up off the ground, and bore her away in my arms. But, alas it was of no avail, for she had been stabbed to death. My first and only love the discovery made a fiend of me, and I'm sure I couldn't tell you how many of the race of her assassins I haven't despatched since that dread hour to their fabled Paradise." Here the Major not* only wiped his eyes, but also blew his nose, and that with such vigour that it sounded like a trumpet call to arms. He is indeed a hero," thought Lily. Fiincy one man killing seven. And then what a flow of words and depth of feeling." At this moment the Captain, happening to pass by, said to the gallant Major- I hear there's every probability of our being attacked by armed Bedouins in the Narrows before we reach the Great Bitter Lake. What think you about the matter ?" 1-1-1 don't know. I never heard of this before. Are—are you well prepared for this ?" Well, I'm about to barricade the wheel-house with mattresf-es and tea-chests, and the Lascars are polishing up some two dozen Snider rifles and word-bayonets that we have on board, so that if 8 comes to a brush I daresay we'll be able to hold *our own. We have a steam-hose to scald the Xrascals with also. But we shall expect much from yotl "From me? I fear, Captain, that you H bive to look upon me in the light of a non-combatant. I'm suffering now from wounds received in the defence of women and children at Alexandria-so badly suffering that I can hardly stand. Bless my heart, I'd never have thought it from the way in which you tripped aboard. But since your wounds are so bad I'll send the ship surgeon to you at once." Oh, no, they're not so bad as all that. 111 go to my berth, and take a stiff glass of brandy and water, and-and remember, Captain, that should it come to blows with those cursed Bedouins, my heart will be with you, even if my hurts tie me down to my bed," and the gallant (?) Major at once beat a hasty retreat to his cabin. It was the captain ai the ship who sat down by Lilly's side now. A rare humbug, that fellow," said he, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the retreating form of the Major. I've come across hun before to-day bless you, he's only in the Commissariat, and he's going on to Suez to make preparations for the arrival of the Indian Native Contingent. Such as he never show up where there's any fighting going on and too many of his kidney make rapid fortunes by supplying the troops with worthless articles at high price." "Oh, Capfciin Miller," half sobbed poor Lily, if Major Marmaduka Montgomerie is not a hero, where and how is one ever to find such a being?" What! My dear young lady, is it possible that you are half-way through our voyage, and have not yet discovered that on at least a score of different occasion8 you have conversed with the real, genuine, bona-fide article ? But there- there-it isn't, after all, to be wondered at, for real merit is always reticent, and true courage is not iriven to boasting." Captain Miller, what do you mean and who in the name of wonder are you talking about ?" Wfjy, young Jones, to be F;ure. Aren't you aware that he's the Lieutenant Jones who saved his colonel's life and the British, colour-i at Ulundi ? Why, the papers were full of it at the time, and be won the Victoria Cross and a sword of honour, and I don't know what besides. He bad so many wounds, poor fellow, that bis mili- tary career was for ever closed to him, but her Majesty made him a Queen's Messenger, and he is now bearing important despatches to the British Admiral at Suez." Lily Smith hardly heard the conclusion of the Captain's speech, and no sooner was it ended than, to conceal the emotion which it had called forth, she made some excuse or other, and theu rushed away to her cabin to cry and reflect. That evening there was no music and no sing- ing. The huge ship was passing down the narrows of the canal, with every light extinguished that could be spared, and with as little noise aboard of her as possible, for the sandy, hummocky shore was within bullet range on either side, and there was no knowing whether hostile Bedouins might not show up. Lily Smith, somewhat nervous, and altogether depressed in spirits, sought out a part of the deck wtiere she thought she should be alone, and where none would be likely to find her. One did find her, however for ere long a well. known voice whispered in her ear:— In a few hours now we shall be at Suez, and my journey will be ended. May I venture to hope that there is a possibility of our parting good friends ?" "If you can be good-natured enough to forgive me, I am ready to be friends at once." "There is nothing to forgive, or, at all events, there is nothing for me to forgive. You naturally did not like my plain speech, after being so long petted, and spoiled, and flattered. I should have been move gentle with you. Yes, mine was the fault, not youis." "You are the only man on board this ship who has ever spoken a word of sense to roe. Your, at the time, unpalatable advice I mean to take, and there is my hand." I accept it with joy, but I shall relinquish it with bitter sorrow. Yet why need I relinquish it at all ? You said once that you would rather merry a common soldier with his thirteen pence a day, who had fought and bled for his country, than a philosopher in tweed. Well, I have been a soldier, and have done a little fighting and bleeding too. If you will accept me, Lily, you will make me the happiest of mortals." Need we record Lily's answer, and may we drop a veil over what occurred during the next ten minutes ? Our readers can imagine a great deal better than we can describe it, therefore let us descend to the warm and cosy cabin. Thert, Major M-vrmaduke Montgomerie is dilat- ing on his own gallant deeds to a circle of pas- sengers, who listen to him because the lamps arc turned down too low to permit of them amusing themselves in any other way. The Major, however, desires to make an extra impression, so he picks out a very little man and commences to bully him. You don'r. seem to be interested in my dis- course, sir. You are impertinently inattentive." The little man looked the uniformed Hercules quietly up and down, and then said—"Well, you don't amuse me, because the fact is I'm a tbun- dering good liar myself." Thereupon the hurly Major made for that little man, but the little man, instead of falling on his knees or running away, knocked the big Major down. Tom Jones and his affianced wife looking down through the skylight saw and heard all this, and the lady expected that the lively Major would rise to his feet and proceed forthwith to demolish his diminutive insulter. One-half of the programme he carried out-that is to say, he rose to his feet, hut he immediately used them to convey himself off to his own cabin, from which he did not once emerge during the remainder of the voynge. Lily de V ere Smith did not proceed to India in search of a Nabob, after all. She left the ship at Suez along with her ex-soldier lover, and three hours later they were married to each other by a chaplain of one of the British ironclads that was stationed thsre. They have long since been back again in Old England, where they now reside, as happy a couple as any under the sun, and Lily is not at all ashamed of being called plain Mrs Jones. [THE SND-1
WHY SHE WORE A SHAWL. ...
WHY SHE WORE A SHAWL. About a week ago some young ladies got up a party to go on a moonlight excursion up the River. The night finally arrived, and the moon flooded field and river with a glow of pearly rich- ness. When the party was ready to leave the house which had been appointed as the rendez- vous, it was noticed that one of the most charming young ladies of the coterie bad a shawl on. What's the matter, Lucy?" inquired one young lady "are you afraid of taKing ccld I" Nn, no," she replied. Perhaps you are troubled with a cough ?" sug- gested a young man wbp was struggling to direct all his vitality into a moustache. No, replied the pretty creature with a smile. The thermometer is up at 86. You'll roast if you wear that shawl." I'm willing to roast," she said rather pettishly. "Don't you know why she wears that shawl ?" laughed her little brother, us be wiped some taffy off his mouth with his jacket-sleeve. You keep still, you John Henry;" screamed the dear angel, as the turned a trifle red. The boy got out of reach and yelled: I'll tell you why she wears that shawl. When she gets out on the river Bob puts his arm under it and hugs her, and nobody can see through the game Then there was a scene. John Henry was driven t-umi-marily to bed and the party started for the scene ot the festivity.
IMPROVING THE TURF OF THE…
IMPROVING THE TURF OF THE LAWN. Many lawns are at this moment receiving injury from too close cutting. Let the machine be lifted up halt an inch or more by dropping down the front rollers, and in the course of time a thick carpet will form, and the turf will become soft and velvety. Neither will the turf burn or lose colour so soon in hot weather and as the grasses gather strength, the weeds, if any are present, will be less noticeable. The worms in autumn will give lees trouble, and the working parts of the mowing machine, being lifted above the soil where nothing but grass has to be cut, do not wear out so fast, so that both in appearance and economy it is a gain not to cut the grass too close. It may look less polished at first, bat the grass will 6ootj fill up to the new level, and the half inch or so of new matter, acting as a mulch over the roots of the grass, will keep the torf from woaring out.—Field,
EXPERIENCES OF AI DETECTIVE.
EXPERIENCES OF A DETECTIVE. By James McGovan. No. 35.-A WONDERFUL DREAM. If I were asked if I believed in dreams I should say "No if I were asked if I bad no faith in extraordinary dreams I should say—"I don't know." As a rule women believe in them most religiously—men are more sceptical. I am a man, pretty well hardened by rubbing shoulders with roguery, and a detective as well; so it will be seen that with me but a narrow margin is left for faith. Here is a case, however, that puzzled me. It was certainly a most extraordinary affair, con- taining some strange coincidences; and when the reader is made acquainted with the facts he will not wonder at my confusion, seeing that there were apparently two dreams, and the puzzle was which to believe. I will attempt no explanation, but simply give it as I find it in my notes. One clear, dry morning towards the end of January, I was standing at the head of the Old Fisbmarket Close, chatting gaily with some bro- ther officers-as we often do when not immediately required within—when a pale-faced young man, something like a student in appearance, tugged me by the arm and drew me aside. You are I)t,-tective M'Govan ? he said in a nervous, fearful tone. "TOO ARE DBTKCTIVK M'GOVAN?" "I am." I never saw you before to my knowledge," he continued impressively, yet I knew you the mo- ment I caught sight of you." Then you have the advantage of me," I an- swered with a smile." I never saw you before, and I don't know you now. You seem frightened— what's the matter ? "Oh, I've bad a fearful dream Indeed. What had you for supper ? I wish I could smile at it, and think nothing would come of it," and he shivered all over as he spoke. Was it three times repeated, in the good old fashion?" I continued lightly. "No. It came only once, but so vividly and clearly that when I woke I could scarcely believe that it bad not really happened." I thought that perhaps he had not got over the New Year festivities, but merely said—" Well, let's hear the dream." I am a divinity student," he began, and I lodge at Mrs Bain's, No.—, Park-street. Last night or this morning I dreamt that I was awakened by my landlady opening my room door, and saying at the same time to someone without, 'What name shall I say, sir?' Then I heard the answer distinctly, and in the very tones in which you have now addressed me—'Detective M Govan. I thought I started up, and was beginning to dress hastily, when you entered and motioned to Mrs Bain to retire. There was snow on your hat, overcoat, and boots, and while you were shaking it off, I was trying in vain to get my tongue to move in the utterance of some inquiry as to your business. A strange sinking at the heart had seized me. I felt that I was about to be arrested, and was anxious to know the nature of the accusation. At last I gasped out, What is it ?' You looked at me gravely in the face for a moment, and then said—' Murder, they say." I felt everything swimming under my feet, and then I heard you say, Don't fret about i t-if you are iuuocent it will soon come out.' I finished dressing, and left the house with you. When I got to the bottom of the stair, 1 saw that the ground was covered to the depth of four or five inches, and in descending the uncleared steps outside the stair my foot slipped a little, and I heard you say, Take care of your feet.' And then I woke." Rather a lame conclusion to such a wonderful dream," I coxnmented. "It's a pity you didn't dream again and finish it." "I am aware that it must seem a trifling affair to you," he earnestly replied, taking no notice of my sneer, but, believe me, it made such an im- pression on me that I could not rest till I came here to tell you of it. I am not superstitious I scarcely ever dream, and I never take spirits. I never experienced anything like it before." I advised him to go home, take a little cooling medicine, not sit up late studying, and try to think no more about it. He thanked me for the interest I had shown, and gave me his card, from which I found that his name was Mr Arthur Spence." Then we parted, and I rejoined my companions, and thought no more of the matter. But more came of it. A few days after I was aroused up in the middle of the night by one of the county police, who was standing in the middle of my room covered with fallen snow, and breathlessly direct- ing my attention to a note which the landlady was placing in my hand. I was wide awake, and had recognised the lieutenant's band in a moment. The scribble ran thus:— A murder on the Duddingaton-road. Please go with bearer at once and investigate. Willsend a cab after him to your lodging." I dressed hastily, and had scarcely finished when a cab rattled up the stair foot. We were soon in it, and flying southwards, and while doing so I elicited from my companion the following par- ticulars Mr Josiah Spence, bachelor, lived alone in his cottage, a retired house on the road between Duddingston and Portobello. By alone I mean without friend or relative near him. One domestic, a housekeeper, lived in the house with him, and this lady, with a man who occasionally came to trim the garden and a boy who ran errands, comprised bis whole establishment. On the previous night—for it was now long past midnight—the housekeeper, who had obtained leave of absence for a day to visit her friends, upon returning about eeven o'clock, and ringing re- peatedly at the bell, was surprised at eliciting no response. She moved further along the road to a spot from whence she could obtain a glimpse of Mr Spence's study window, but it. like every ather in the house, was enveloped in darkness. At last she got through the hedge and over the low garden paling, and made for the back door. At this a fresh surpise awaited her. It was send- ing wide open. Knowing her master's careful habits and his partiality for locking doors, she at once suspected that something was wrong. Still, unwilling to raise a false alarm, she groped her way in as far as the kitchen, and managed to strike a light. The fire was out, but otherwise nothing unusual met hec eye. Determined to satisfy herself she lit a candle, and walked straight to the study door. No one answered her knock, and she opened the door and looked in. Then she screamed right out, and got out of the house she knew not how. To the station-house at Jock's Lodge was not a great run, but when she did get there it was some time before they could make sense of her words. At last they made out that she had found her master, sitting in his chair dead, she thought, with » frightful wound, in his bead, and a bloody wood-chopper at his feet. The station master at once proceeded to the scene of the murder, leaving the balf-de- mented housekeeper under the care of his wife, who bad orders to send along after him the first policeman that dropped in. Arnved at the cot- tage, he had merely ascertained that the unfortu- nate gentleman was really dead, and then locked the doors of all the rooms, and ensconced himself in the kitchen to await the arrival of another man. As soon as the desired messenger did come be was despatched to the head office at Edinburgh, and the result of his mission is already known to the reader. That was all I could get out of the man as we rattled along through the driving snow, but I fait sora fchak,tiere was soma uncommon feature about the case, or I would never have been sent for. Nor was I wrong. We got to the cottage, and found the station-master waiting for us at the open front. I went with him straight to the open front. I went with him straight to the study, and began to look about me. The mur- dered man lay dropping forward on the table, just as he had been found. He appeared to have been killed from behind, and one terrific swoop of the wood-chopper had done the deed. A reading I stand and book on the table before him appeared but little disturbed, but on an open writing-desk, close to his left arm, I could see distinct traces of bloody fingers-both on the desk itself and the papers scattered about. And now comes the strange part of the business, and what puzzled me so much. I had ascertained that no robbery bad been committed by finding both money and notes to a considerable amount lying in the desk undis. turbed, and was gathering up the scattered papers when my attention was directed to a sheet of writing-paper lying near the fireplace, crushed into a ball and much smeared with blood, as if it had been used to wipe the murderer's hands after the deed was committed. I picked it up, and finding some writing on it, was spreading it out on the table, when the station-master at once identified the handwriting as that of the mur- dered man. There was no signature; indeed, it will be seen that the paper, properly, had no finish. It now lies before me, with the crimson stains faded into brown, and I proceed to copy it I write this in great distress. I do not wish to be thought childish or superstitious therefore I have mentioned the matter which now gives me so much concern to no one. For three nights in succession I have had a horrible dream. I dreamt that I saw myself sitting alone in my room engaged in reading. The door opened softly, but I- was too deeply interested in the woik before Ifte to notice it or look round. Then I distinctly saw my nephew, Arthur Spence, enter the room with a wood chopper in his right hand. Still, though I groaned and struggled in my sleep, the figure of myself in the dream did not move. Then I saw Arthur Spence glide forward, raise the wood-chopper, aud strike me a fearful blow on the head. I saw myself drop forward on to the table, with blood gushing from the wound aud staining the table-cloth, and then I woke, trembling all over, and with the perspira- tion standing thick on my brow. For three nights this dream has been regularly repeated. I cannot say what troubles ma most—the thought of myselt being the victim, or the extremely improbable idea of Arthur Spence being the murderer but I write this in case- There was no more. It did not end there, I was certain but the bottom right-hand corner of the sheet had been torn away. I read it again, Arthur Spence "—surely I had heard that name before ? A moment's thought, and I had re-called the young man in High street with his wonderful dream. Here was another dream-wonderful also— indeed, just a trifle too wonderful to be swallowed at a moment's notice, I don't know how it was, but I really and truly can say that I suspected that paper from the first. Perhaps it was the absurdity of the idea that a murderer should lift up his own condemnation in writing, wipe his fingers with it, crush it lW, and leave it behind him. It was certainly possible, in the haste of guilt, but far from probable. THE MUBDEBED MAN DROPPED FOKWASD ON TABLE." Still, it left me no alternative. My first business was to make sure that it was Mr Spence's hand- writing. I locked everything up again-left a man in charge-drove to the Jock's Lodge Station- house, and began to question the housek-jepar who was roused up for tho purpose. In hunting, I believe it sometimes happens that after a hare is started another crosse.s its track, and gets hunted and caught in its stead; and though, in the present case, my inquiries were bent towards Mr Arthur Kpeace, I was not with- out hope that some other facts would start into life which would place me on the track of the real criminal.. After talking her into some degree of calmness, I asked— "Would you kno* the handwriting of your master so as to be able to swear to it ?" có Oh, yes. I could not be deceived in that respect. His hand was peculiar-round, firm, and Clumsy. He said he had acquired it by prac- tising Arabic and Sanscrit. I could swear to it anywhere. 11 I folded dow the paper I bad found »o as to expose the first tew lines. "Is that like it2" That is it." "You are perfectly Sure ?" Perfectly." I had thought as much—expaci,(J(j as oiugli loy- 80lf. It was only a faint hope I had had that it might be a forgery fpr x lud olre.ldy cominired the wntmgwith that on his books and papar-and that hope was gone. Do you know if your master bad any enemies? Did he quarrel with anyone lately?" Yes ne had a quarrei some time ago with his nephew, Arthur. I heard them at it for nearly two hours, and1 when Arther left I heard his uncle say lie would disinherit him. He repeated the same to me after, saying that the young man had fallen into bad company, and was Eqnanderinff too much money, But I don't believe he did it, for he loved Arthur better than if be bad been his II own son." Strange how everything was tendint; to crimi- nate that young man. My ideas ware beginning to waver and get confuiled. But Bl)me würds from the housekeeper arousad me, and ri veLtOO my attention. "As for enemies, I don t believe he ever had any-unless his brother Stephen could be called one, They used to be bitter foes, but I rather think they made it up some time ago." What makes you think so ?" Because they have corresponded lately." Indeed, When ? Tell me all about that." « Stephen has been a bad lot all his days He robbed my master years ago, and was imprisoned for it and, so far as I k„ow, tl)ey UaVQ 01)ly spoken since." Only once very good. Whon was that?- "Oh, more than a month ag:) Stephen Clune to the cottage and asked to see master. I was astonished to see him, and hardly knew him, he was so shabby and mieerable-looking. After some bother he did get to see tnastej; but the interview didn't last long nor do mucll g00(J) for he leffc shortly after cursing like a troopsr. I don't know what they were talking about, but master said to ma after, when talking about the visit, that he wasn't going to rob his nephew to feed a needy scoundrel. Good—oh, good Was not this a crossing of the scent ? My hand shook so that I could hardly scribble down the leading points of her informa- tion. Looking at the notes now, 1 can hardly decipher them. But you 8:1 id they had corresponded b-ttely ? Yes about a week ago a letter came, which I afterwards learned was from him. My master read it whila at hiS breakfast, and said » Pooh pooh!' two or three times iu the middle of it' When he had fiuished, he said, 4 Well, my brother Stephen is a sillier fool tnan I took him forand then he told me not to let the boy go away, as he bad a paper to copy and send away by post." You mean that the boy was to take it to the post-omce ? Well, did he send it away? U Yes, a letter." Did you notice the address ? Yes I was a little curious about it, for when I saw my master grunting and smiling over the letter I was afraid Ins brother was sneaking in With hi in again. The letter was addressed jts Stephen Spence, No. —, Cannon-gate, ISdin. burgh. Engwrly I pulled out the blood-stained paper. My countenance fell at once as I examined it, and my heart sank along with it. There were creases innumerable, but not a trace of tho straight folds necessary to such a paper passing through the post. As a last hope, I asked- Do you remember if the envelope n&s a large one ?" No larger than u ual just an ordinary envelope. Master always used the same size I you wijl fiod low of tkia in bis deels." Baffled again, Never miud I was determined I to get to the bottom of it. What is this Stephen Spence like ?" He's a ta^i man, with a red nose, and a bleary look about the eyes, and half-ministerial looking in dress," "Ah—hum—just so. Now, Mrs Taylor, there is only one thing more I wish to ask. Do you know if your master kept anything in the shape of a diary or journal in which he recorded the trans- actions of the day ?" Yes, of course he did you'll find it in his desk. He used to put down the most trifling things in it. I've peeped into it often when ha was out, and I was sorting the room." "You must be mistaken; I looked the whole desk through, but could find no such a thing." "Oh, but it is there, and nowhere else. It's prettily bound in dark morocco, with Diary' in large gilt letters in front." She was positive about it, and I was so certain that the desk, when I examined it, contained no such article, so I could come to hut one conclusion. In rummaging the desk, the criminal had, for some reason, appropriated the diary. I took a note of the circumstance, secretly wondering what this diary, if not yet destroyed, would reveal as to tho affair of the letter and answer, about a week ago." If I could lay my hands on anybody with this diary in their possession, I reasoned, not only would the murderer be In my grasp, but perhaps his own condemnation as well. The conclusion was rash—frightfully nsh-as will be seen pre- sently, and 111 acting upon it chance or good fortune alone kept mei from tripping; still, though I might have blundered awfully, it was decreed otherwise. Just. one thing more," I said, rising to go. Where did you generally keep that wood- chopper ? I suppose it belongs to the house ? Yes, it was always kept just within tho door of the wood-shed, in the yard behind. But it's a strange thing that the wood chopper went a missing four days ago. Master thought someone had got over the palings at the back and stolen it, and when he ordered a new one he had a padlock put on the door of the shed." "Do you think it possioie that this nephew this Arthur Spence-could have borne your master any malice?" She laughed outright. "Malice? The thing is impossible. Arthur has no more malice in him than the child unborn. He may be simple and generous, and easily led away, but he has no worse fault." Very -)od. I am much obliged to you, and will not trespass further on your repose. I may perhaps have occasion to see you to-morrow neaiiwiiile I will ivisii yovi good-iii,, I -[it I drove up to Edinburgh at once, and, as it Was now near daybreak, I made hold to go to the lieutenant's private residence, and report progress. His decision was short, and quickly given. "Goandarrpst Arthur Spence, and then see after the other whom you suspect." I was not surprised at the order. Some of my chums at the office had already given me their opinion that this would be the result. But I was dissatisfied, and would much rather have taken a different course of action. However, there was nothing else for it. I trudged off through the snow—which snow lay about four inches deep on the ground, and was still falling lightly—and got to No. —, lark- street. I found Mrs Bain's on the second landing, asked to see Mr Arthur Spence, and was at once conducted along a dark Lobby. What name shall I say, sir?" said the woman, just as she op nod the door, and pausing with her hand on'the latch. "Detective M'Govan," I said, rather gruffly, for I was thinking of something else, and did not like being stopped and interrupted.. She entered the room, but I followed c.ose at her heels, aijd caught sight of niy man dressing hastily in front of a concealed bed., The moment our eyes uAt he stageered against the bed, and turned deadly white. I motioned the woman from the room, coolly knocking the snow from my hat ic; I did so, and the moment she was gone turned on the young man. He appeared to be struggling for utterance, ana at last got out with a gasp- "What is it?" I thought of the opinion of my chums, and that of the lieutenant as well, and said- Murder, they say." I thought he was going to faint, so I added cl1>3enly- Don't fret about it. if you are innocent it will soon come out." I said no more. He moved about as if lie was in a dieatn, with a vacant look about his eyes that made me feel uncomfortable. But he was soon ready, and we iett the house together. Just as we reached tho pavement his foot flipped on the snow, and I cried out wiirriiigly- "Takecareofyourfeet." The moment the words escaped my lips I stag- gered back with a sharp cry— *«Good God!" I must have looked pale, for he appeared to wake up at once, and stretched out his hands with great concern, as if to save me from falling. Are you ill, sir ?" "No. Do you remember tlie. IreaT),, you told me about the other day in tho H'gh-street ?" Remember it ?—it has not been off my mmd ever f-ince." Well, here I find niave unconsciously aioea in its literal fulfilment. The thought only flashed upon me now." -1 "I knew something would come of it," he said gravely. "Will you tell me what has happened, wily I itii arre.ited?" "Thou y°u do not ,know? You have not heard ?" s, I live heard nothing. Where were you the night before het?" He started, looked confused, and remained Spaak, man a good deal depends on it. Wore you nt home ?" "No." Out ,f towil "No." "What part of it? "The New Town." The whole night?" '*Tli, wli,Ie nigl)t, ati,i AFI Ivell. "Good. Then you CHl find witnesses to prove it, sind so establish an alibi? He wrung his hands in an agony of despair. I could not—I could not! it woulu ru11* my reputation-damn my prospects for life 11 Whew, you are in bad company then "Ask me nothing. Though it were to save my life I could not answer." Your stubbornness is almost suicidal; but if you will not speak, I must see if your companiona win." Oh, sir, in mercy let the matter rest. I am willing to suffer anything than disgrace." Do you know what the penalty of murder is? —it is hanging." "But I m innocent." Perhaps. You must prove that. The thought appeared to pull him up, but still he wavered. What would life be to me with a blasted repu- tation ?" I cannot ssy. You should have thought of that when you went out the lIight before last. His agitation became fearful. 3 But you have not told me who is murdered, lie, list. I was near letting it out, but fearing the effects of the sudden announcement in his present agitated state I stopped just in time.. You will know soon enough. Follow mo to the office. Perhaps a little relfection in the cool retirement of a cell niiy bring you to reason." A look of abject resignation crossed his face, and he said— Will you grant me one request ? Lot ma walk before you about a dozen yards; I will not run away.. I had not the slightest fear of him, and con- sented at once. And so we progressed till we reached the end or Bristol-place then came an interruption.^ A seedy-looking scamp—known to us as The Skylark," pome of whoilc tricks I may 1wticein the papur-had crossed the street and suddenly accosted him. Aly pi-isorer stopped, and appeared to listen reluctantly to ti ie beggar at his side. Then I saw something offered to him—something like a book wrapped_m pa par —at which he stared vacantly, and then i stepped suddenly between them and snatched it from his hand. What is this 7" I sharply demanded. A SEEDY-LOOKING SCAMP." -I if Only a book which he was asking me to keep for him," answered the young simpleton, blushing a little. He is a relation of mine—an uncle." I toreoff the paper,and conld have shouted with joy as I aw the gilt letters of the words "DIAUY" shining in the light. In a moment I had seized the astonished Sky? lark by the collar and whistled sharply to a policeman on the other side. Stephen Spence, in tho name of the law I arrest yon for the murder of your brother If ha had been shot through the heart his fape could not have exhibited a more instantaneous change. Like a flash it became—red nose and all —whiter than the ground. He appeared perfectly stupefied, till the cold steel handcuff from my pocket fastened his wrist securely to that of the policeinau. Then be found hia tougus. "What means this audacious outrage?'' he cried, crying to simulate virtuous indignation, and tailing miserably. "It was a good plot—ingenious, clever—but it's all thrown away," I returned. You thought to kill two birds with one stone—revenge on your brother and nephew in one sweep—but it's no go. Let's see what the Diary' says, if none has been torn out." I opened In.t\ book, in spite of the fast-gathering I crowd, and, I.ure enough, tlic lea-veg for more than a week pn.44 were gone Torn out, too-I could see the remaining shreds still sticking into the binding. "You infernal double-dyed scoundrel I burst forth. You tore out your own condemnation, forth. You tore out your own condemnation, and then tried to palm the book on this poor lad to be another proof of your guilt, along with the II 'horrible ire.!vln' %vllicll you concocted, and got your brother to copy." It was almost a random thrust, but it struck home—denper than I had anticipated. Heaven have mercy on me," he groaned, staggering aimlessly about. I-I am ill-take me away." We got him into and away to the office, but he got rapidly worse; and before night it was commoniy believed amongst us that the "Sky- lark" would fly no more. Brain fever set in, and soon shook the shattered remains of life out of him. But before his death, which happened about a week after, lie had a few lucid moments and from hi" confession we got the missing links in his diabolical plot. Chagrined at his own miserable state, and his brother's wealth and'comfortable condition, in a moment of bravado and intoxication he had gone down to the cottage and demanded money, e alleging—perhaps truly—that he was starving. The demand was met by the deceased with a contemptuous refusal, and the statement that all his wealth would go, not to a needy scoundrel, but. to his sister's son, Arthur Spence. The Skylark" left the house furious—mad- (ieuel -and with but one thought racking his brain—how to plan and execute a fearful revenge on both. The ide of the "horrible dream" was soon concocted-the original of the ingenious piiper I had found (iepatci!ed,ql,)ng with a penitent letter, to the deceased, with a request that- he would take a copy of it, retain the said copy in a place of safety, and return him the original." The rest was easy-the wood-chopper was stolen on a dark night, and on the first night of the housekeeper's absence the murder was com- mitted. He easily obtained access to the house by the back door, stole cautiously behind his brother as he sat, and dealt the murderous blow. 1 iis rifling of the desk and discovery of the diary, containing an account of the horrible dream busi- containing an account of the horrible dream busi- ness, and a. copy of the penitent letter which accompanied the request, followed and the idea of transferring the book to the. keeping of Arthur Spence was, as I guessed, an after-plot, to fasten the guilt, if possible, even more securely upon the young man. As to the other dream I will say nothing. I have given the facts the reader can form his own opinion. But though the affitir was in a manner hushed up at the tiine, 1 have often wondered that some romance-maker did not get hold of the details and work them into a story.
v-:-_1" ANECDOTES OF ACTORS.
v- _1" ANECDOTES OF ACTORS. The fnlJowing- anecdotes from "Representative Actors," by W. Clark Russell, may be interest. ing:- When Macklin gave lectures on the drama, Foote being ona evening present, talking and laughing very loud just before the leature began, Macklin, offended, called out rather pettishly, "Sir, you seem to be very merry there; but do you know what I am going to lIay now?" "No, Sir," aid Foote i)ray do you ?" Mrs Clive was one night tteeu standing at: the wing, weeping and scolding alternately ¡.t Garrick's acting. Angry at last at finding herself soaiicct.ed, she turned ou her clying", him, be conld act a gridiron him, be Garrick once abked John Ifcicb, the manager of Govent Garden, how m,llch he thought his theatre would hold. I could tell you,to a shilhns," said Rich, "if you wou!<i play Itichar4l in it." An actor, levelling ilis lialberd to prevent Richard from impeding the progress of Henry's funeral instead of saying, "My lord, stand back and le the coffin pass," cried, in his hurry aud confusion, "My lord, stand back, and 1st the parson cotigii.1 A strange blunder was once made by Mrs Gibbs, of Covent Garden, in the part of Miss Sterling in The Cltn,i,,Etille When speaking of the conduct of Botly, wh o had locked the door o Miss Fanny's room, :!nd walked away with the key, Mrs Gibbs said," She has locked the key, and carried away the door in her pocket." A similar blunder was once made by Mrs Davenport as Mrs Heidelberg, who substituted for the original dia- logue, "I protest, there's a candle coming along the gallery with a man in his hand Lea Lewis shooting on a field, the proprietor attacked him violently. "I qllow no person," saia he, to kill game on my manor but myself, and I'll shoot you if you come here again. What cried Lewis, "I suppose you mean to M;klce game of me?" Mrs Oldfield's vanity is illustrated by her wish that she should be well dressed in her coffin. Accordingly, as the nicety of dress was her de- licht when liviuer, she was as nicely dressed after her decease, being, by Mrs Saunders' direction, thus laid in her coffin She had on a very fine Brussels lace a hollaud shift, with tucker, and double ruffhtl ot the same lace a pair of new kid gloves and her body wrapped up in a wind- ing sheet." Charles Matthews once arrived at a forlorn country inn, and, addressing a melancholy waiter, inquired if he could have a chicken and asparagus. The melancholy waiter shook his head. Can I have duck, then ?" No, sir. "Have you ally mutton chops?" "Not one, sir." liieu as you have nothing to eat, bring mo something to drink. Have you any spirits ?" Sir," replied tlit, trial,, with a deep sigh, "we are out of spirits. "Then in Heaven's name, what have you got in the house?" "Sorry to say, sir, nothing but an execution," A well-known actress, playing at Bath in the character of Mrs Beverley, had by her powers hushed the house into the deepest possible still- ness, when a little Jew, starting up, cried out fiercely, "My Got! who was dat shpit in my eye ?" The character of Polly PeaChum, the heroine of "The Beggars' Opera," has led to the peerage three of its representatives, i.e., Miss Fenton (Duchess of Bolton), Miiss btepheus (Countess of iissex), and Miss Bolton (Lady i hunow). Stephen Kemble, who died 111 Durham, con- ducted the Sunderland Circuit for years, and was also manager of the Glasgow Iheatre. ICemble personated Othello one night in the Glasgow Theatre, and a circumstance occurred in the last scene which turned the trageuy into a comedy. When the bed uf Desdeniona was arranged, the property man being a new hand, and in eager anxiety to have everything right and proper, fit for a chambre accouche, placed something under the bed which is always dispensed with. The curtain drew up and !c-. entered speaking the soliloquy, My soul, it is "ia cause, it is the cause A tittering took l'lace, and then a laugh. Stephen Kemble stopped,. around, and, perceiving the cauve oi the hilarity, rushed off the stage, seized the unlucky property man by th« neck, as lie would Iago, a"a "Villain! villain!" The terrified wretch criea out, "Oh, sir, pardon me I assure you 1 couldn't get a loan of a white one anywhere-
.--.-.-"'''----::r HER PREPARATION…
-r HER PREPARATION FOR STARRING. Theatrical Manager: "You say you want an engagement to star in my theatre. Your name is not familar to me. li;i %,e you ever starred? Would-be actress "N "ver." Where have you played ? I never played on the stage." Have you received any dramatic instruction?" None whatever." But you have at least, studied the art ? You are familiar with the works of the great drama- tists, are you not ?" Never read a play in my life." Good heavens madam, what preparation have you, then, for going on the stage as a star ?" I have had photographs taken in 140 ditferent poses." Tbe manager fainted."
Y GOLOFN GYMREIG. -----oIl'----
Y GOLOFN GYMREIG. -oIl' Dymunir i'n gohebwyr Cymreig gyfeirioeugoheb- iaethau, liyfrau i'w &c., fel y caillyii: Dafydd Morgauwg, Marganwg House, Ltantwit- street, Cardiff.
-----_.__.-BARDDONIAETH.
BARDDONIAETH. OA UT h, E F. (GUI OGWENYD1), Treg uth, Bangor.) Tyi'd adref, Awen, n'th grwydriadau pell, A ciiin i Cirtrai;" ciyiiia destyn gwell Na phelledigion belhau gwamal fyd Sydd ar bob Haw yn hudo'th dyner fryd. 0 gartref,—cartref! anniffoddol swyn A orphwys ar, draidd drwy, dy enw mwyn Mae cwmpawd serc.h, er gwaetha r gwyiit a'r Ili' Ystormydd 09s, yn tfyddlawn lych i ti; I Nid fel y m6r—un adeg bydd yn drai, A llanw wedyn, yna aiff yn llai. I'r edn chwareus fesura'r awyr faitli Mae nyth yu rhywle n derfyn pob rhyw daith D.nv'l' pysg, o'u holl grwydriadau, 'u 01 drachefn I'r hollt ysgythrog neu i'r gragen iefn A'r auifeiliaid, ar y bryn a'r rhos, A ddeuant adref mag y storm a'r nos Y ddafad grwydrol ei chynefin tyn, Anedwydd yw nes tua'i oharLref tyn A'r aseu wyllt, a'i hansoniaros fref Gartref a'r anial, chwardd ar luaws tref;" A'r Uwynog cyr'rwys, tua'r ffau mae'n tro'i, Pan wel berygion eglur yn cryuhoi. Ac felly dyn—pob dyn o dan y nef- Y mwyaf unig, erys iddo ef Ryw lecyn tecach l1a'r cyfanfyd crwn Mae'r galon yue, tyna gartref hwn Nid gwychder palas y pendefig gwiw. (lnd yr ymdeimlad syiril wna'i grartref yw, A'i try yn ol o bobman yno, trwy Balasau eraill, tecacb, gwychach hwy. Mae'r enw yira'n gosod bwyn a bri Ar babell send yr Affricaniaid du, A thvyyina fwthyn ia'r Esquimaux tlawd, Er i'r ystormydd geisio'i wneyd yn wawd, Anwylaf gartref pawb ei gartref gar, Ü'r Arab anwar hyd y Oymro gwar. Mae'n ddinas noddfa mewn ystormydd blin, A theml mwynhad pan fyddo hafaidd hin A c nid oes neb a wyr yn iawn ei werth. Mae fel bywydiad mewn ystorom gerth- Diogel hafan, poithiadd tawel, clyd, Lle peidia swu a dryghin garw'r byd. Yn adeg mebyd, O! fy nghartref mwyn! Yr adeg honu eti 8 ei nawdd a'i swyn, Pan oeddwn ynt â. trvvyneb gwridog, iach, Yn chwareu jiyich y cryd a'r gadair bach, Cyn gem beiau'n bywyd—llawu o hoen,— Cyn dod 1 wybod am yr enw poen; Ond fel tywysog o dan ofal mam, Oedd lawn tynerweh, wyliai rhag bob cam Fy nghampau difyr, hi edmygai'r rhai'n, A chyn 1 r byd roi ar fv llwvbrai, ddr^in A goror maeth i mi oedd ar ei hyd, A llawna i barch o bob lie yn y byd. At,hrofa bywyd yn nghychwynfa oe's, A'm rhiaint yn athrawun gyda inoea. Ett hen gadeiriau fel gorseddau gwycli I'r tad a'r fam ac, O! illx-"r cof fel urych Yn cofio'r hen wialen fedw gynt Oodd fel teyruwialen fy moreuol hynt. Er tyfu wedyn, er aeddfedu'n ddyn, Fy nghartref erys yn ei swyn yr un Fel yr aeddfedaf, rhyw anwyldeb titwy Geir yn fy nghartref, swynion gyda hwy; Ac wrth baneiddio, cysur yn mwynhau, A gafael tynacli ynddo yn parliau 'Run modd a'r eiddew am v dderwen gref Yw'm serch i a to, cryi'aeh.'tynacii ef,— Fel lyn: r baban pan yn sugno'r fron. amser maith anhawddach gadael hon. Ac felly adeg heuaint, anhawdd fydd Dibrisio cartref—rawy ei werth bob dydd. Y gweithiwr blin ddaw adref gyda'l' hwyr, Pan wrth y rliiniog ify ei boenau'n llwyr JM seichog briod, ai anwyliaid mwyn Rhyw udnewyddiad yn ei serch wnant ddwyn. A'r teithiwr hefyd, er yn nes a gwan, Ei gysnr yw, caiff gartref yn y man Gafael a gobaitii yn ei law yn dyn, Gan ddweyd, Ti fyddi gartref gyda hyn. A'r morwr dewr, er brwydro'n tnerw'r don, Mae enw cartra'n ysgafnhau ei fron lr cyrhaedd porthiadd yn y gwledydd pall, Mae cyrhaedd gartref yn aurhaethol. well, Try'r milwr hefyd, gyda'i feddgar drem, Ei feddwl adref, ynu mae ei em Er yinladd brwydrau, gweled gwlad a thref, Ei gart,ref erys yn ei iygad ef; Ac ar 01 brwydro yn eiynol, fI()I, A bysedd cenedl ddelir ar ei ol, 'Rol cyrhaedd adref dros y rhiniog bren, Ni tbeimla. ofn, na meddwl mwy am seu. Er gadael cartref, ie, I'hai'n sarhaus, Fe ddaw adgolion sorehog a pharhaus Nid pelider fi'ordd nac amser wna,'i ddileu, Mae pawb am dano fel pe yn dyheu, Y mab afradlon a'i dirmygai'n ffol. Oud mewn edmygedd y daeth adre'n ol. Er maintyw aidderohawgrwydd gwledydd pell, Mae cartref gwledig, ie, yu llawergwell; A'r eneth wamal, wedi gadael mam, Anadla biraeth, trymacli fydd ei cham Ermyn'd yn mheii mor rhwydd mae [ii'n cyladdeft Ffolliieb ydoedd i mi adael cartref." Gyr amgylchiadau weithiau deulu glin At oruchwylion bywyd ar wahan Ediychant oU am wyliau pan y cant Ojlyngdod oil, ac am eu cartref &nt; Mor hoff fydd ga,nddynt eistedd wrth y bwrdd, I ganmawl cartref y mae'r oil yn cwrdd l Ao wrtil ei adaet, O mae golwg brudd; Anhawdd ei adael, O! mor wleb y rudd Ma6 gadael cartref fel yn croesi greddf, Nes troi y teulu oil i'r cywair lleddf. Ac í'r aTfirldiíaici, wadi ':itormydd erch, Mae siomiant bywyd fel yn enyn serch Corwyntoedd bywyd a'u gofidiau hwy A bair i gartref gael ei g-aru'n fwy [ach, Iae pob rhyw slom yn gwneyd y Stjrclj yn duyfn- A, gwueuthur cartref filwaith yn anwylach. A llawer un, er bod fel alltud prudd, Rhyw awydd am eu hen gartrefle sydd A biraeth hefyd wnaiff ei swyn yn bur, A charvn gywir geiyg sy'n y mur. Ond erbyn cyrhaedd, rhyw estroniaid sydd, Yn lie bu rhiaint tyner boreu'i ddydd A theimla yntau gyfnewidiad hollol, Tra'r fron yr un, mae cartref yn wahauol. Y wisg yn wael a'r wedd yn welw drom, D&lenau bywyd blin i gyd a siom Mae r awel finiog a'i dirmygol fys Yn deffro hirieth, cofio am ei lys Pan auref gynt, mewn oedran dedwydd, mad, Yu wrthddrych gsvir edmygedd mam a thad Mao gweled ereill gyda rhiaint pur Yn lleithic'r llygud, llenwi'r fron a. chur, Geir gwel'd y bacligen gwledig gydt'r nos n rhodio gyda Gwen, rhwng meill a rhos; Eu serch wresoga fel lias gallauc hwy iyw ar wahan, chwenychant gartref mwy Lie troir eu bywyd oil yn haf dydd, A nefoedd fechau yn eu cartref fydd. ^n. Hawnder, 0 mor felus fydd f; rioldeli yno megis haul y dydd, Heo gwrnvvl angen yno i bruddhau, a dim arol, ond pobpeth J'W iwynhau; Heb ru nag elsien, yno'r erys tanguef, Nid oes yn unmau io yn ail i gartref. Daw awydd, daw, ac amgylchiadau liwydd, Aln wel'd y wlad, cychwyn.l'n diiigon rhwydd; Caití weloii holl ddinasoedd pen a'r byd, A thrwy'r heolydd rhodio ar eu hyd Ni threulia. dydd na tiiry ei feddwl ef At deulu mad a'i gartref gyda'i dref; Ni threulifi noson heb freuddwydion lu, Breuddwydion byfryd am ei gartref cu; Fel ton y mdr vn disgyn tua'r lan, Mae llanw'i galon yntau o bob man. Wynfydol gartref I gwir ddanteithion fedd, Yu adeg llawnder, iechyil gyda gwledd Poh cwr o hono ni fydd ond cam a gwrea; Yn adeg Hawnder try bob oerni'n ties, A gwenuu'r uaill </r teulu ar y Had Yn adnewyddu cystic yn ddibali. Gofidus g-,irtrof t pan fydd dyrnod drom Gan ddwrll afiechyd, neu anhymyg siom; Bydd oerni cystudd a thrallodion in Yn oer"i wres, dwyn rliyw g%mwl fill; Ni fydd ond pryder. cerhwyd ar y mur, A phawb sydd yuo o dan lethol gur. Yr eneth ieuane: mewn estronol wlad, Dan hoen a nychdod meddwl am et thad, A'i mam, a'i chartref, ai dytnuniad prudd Am fyned adref, cychwyn I{yda r dydd, 0 dan ei pliosn a'i phrofedigaeth cluverw, 1Iyu'd adro'i wella, neu fyn d adle I farw. Ond uwch fy nghartref ewelaf gwmwl braw Nid yw i'w weled ond megis cledr llaw Ond ynddo ryw elfenau sy'u crynhoi Ddinystria'm cartref, ac ni fydd He i'droi • Y tad yu cychwyn yn y boron ddydd Yn iach a siriol, ysgafn fel yr hydd, Heb feddwl fawr o'L. hyn oedd i ddvoddef, Na dlleual n ol yn fyw l'w anWyi gartref. Ar haner dydd, er syndod gwniaf draw Riiyw un yp dod mewn prudd-der a mawn Y cod yn ai,af ike,,y,i itt y ty, Ibraw, Rhyw genawdwri bruddnf ganddo sy\ Biiiwddegau Och riiy brudd i'w liag(,r hwy Mewn awyjd dweyd, ond atq'll oedi filwy J1.1 einan ory fel ftYwydrol beiriant trwm, lob guir i'r gaion t<udda megis piwm, Nes chwalu'in cartref, iy mhHoadwys gynt, A i holl blesei'HU tua'r pedwar gwynt. O swynion Eden, p'ie dihangasaut hwy? Ai cartref galar fydd fy nghartref mwy? Y dedwydd gartref yna o'i fwynhau, Nid yw i aros, newid I bjrhau I Wrth yfe i cwpan mwyniant ynddo'n lion, Mae wermod angau, oes, yn ngwaelod hou Yn mhlith y bind an dvfant. 'gvlch ei fur, Mae Ration Ypa.s" gyda deiliach sur: Ac felly, ffol y w rhoddi hyder aruo, Ond parotoi i fyned oddiyno. O gartref dedwydd, yn y nefoedd draw, Sy'n aros pientyn Duw riiyw ddydd a ddaw; 0 gartref dedwydd, gwyufydedig fry, Sy'n llawn o urddas tywysog-ollu A cl)in y pererinion yno v,)"I'J Mae f'enaid am fyn'd ad ref n" It dydd Ac yn y rhestr ceir profiadau hi, j Ac am lyn'd adref yn un anthem sy W rth Mifon eyfaill tua dyffryn braw, Hiraetha'r Cristion am ei ddilyn draw, Nad yiv'r rlatodia.d ond rhyw gwlad,- Myn'd at yr Iesu, ac i Dy y foad, Lie ceir dedwyddwch teulu yu cyd-gwrad, A gwledda'n ddedwydd a wneir ar y bwrdd Do caiff yr enaid ymoiphwyso'n llwyr, A gwit- I)vfi-y(i%,ch, ;,c. l,ob I)ruddilf I)wYr; Cynheddfau'r enaid a'u golynion hwy, A'r holl alluoedd mewn digonedd mwy. I berchen tfydd, ,i holl grwydriadau ffol, D-trparodd Duw orphwysfa etto'n ol, I rai a'i carant. Cartref cariad yw, Lie carant byth—lie cerir byth gan Dduw; Yn nghadw draw i'r rbai a'i carant Ef Mae darpariadau cariad lon'd y nef. 0 dan ruthriadau 'stormydd rif y dail Y ty daearol sigliir hyd ei sail Yn fyuych, fynycb, wen y dawr yc awr r I'w sail roi ffordd, i'w godwm siglo'r llawr. I Ond saif y ty tragivyddo] yn ei werth, Pan ddnrlfydd hauhau yn nghvlfioad earth Clindsrddach bydoedd erys byth yr un, Heb syflvd, fel yr Orsedd Wen ei hun. Am hyn mae genym 'icrwydd gobaith byw*« Holl sicrwydd "ui a wyddom" pool Drlllw. Uwch poen a gofid, uwch y ser yn mhell, 9 Mae gwlad a eilw'r awen, Gwlad sydd well. AnwyJwu Walia, o anfarwol fri, Ond, ha! na'n mamwlad hoff, g-wlari well yw bL Dangoser Canaan, a'i Glyn Esgol cliweg, i, i Hermon iici)el, t'i Esdraelon, lie chwardd swynion fyrdd ar daeól, Hen wlad dda. odiasth," ond gwlad well sy'u mlaen. Darlunier Eden, gyda'i ffrvdiau claer Trwy dir Hafeilah'n golchi'r tywod aur Ond, ha! yn iiilioii-i iyny-draw yn rnheU, Mae gwlad anfeidrol uwch, dragwyddol well, Lie taen awelon balm "tragwyddol haf;" Dragwyddol iechyd, neb drwy'r wlad yn glafi Lie tyfa pier, y Bywyd," bywyd nef, Heb gleddyf cerub llvm rhwng neb ag ef. Fy Nhad! rho im' dy 'Iabod ar y Ilawr. Lie yn dy dy. yn mhlith dy deulti mawr; Tra yina yn yr anial, gad i mi Fyw ard ruga redd wrth dy fyrddau di; Ac wedi treigliad oesau rhif y gwlith, Bod yn dy dy, bod yn dy deuln byth I A dyma'tn gweddi-am gael gwir aaactaid4- rwyåd, Fel gallwyf fytli gartrefu gyda'r Arglwydd.
-"':.--:...:-A RED-SKIN EXPERIENCE.
A RED-SKIN EXPERIENCE. I was 14 yetr.3 oid-still only a boy trapped  I one might say—and started on an expedition a man named Dave Harrington. We went ri £ away, 125 miles from any settlement, with a YO of oxen and a light waggon to carry supplies all haul our furs back. We found a creek whoto there was lots of game, and there we winter camp. On the side of the hill we lnui" 01 dug-out, and turned the oxen out to graze upon small island, where we left them then we trapping, and did splendidly for a few wlO ks everything going well. But one day, while were out after elk, as we were going round a ",b bend of the creek, I fell so heavi!y upon a s Pery hill slope that I broke the shin-bone of 1111 leg. to Dave Harrington managed to carry me back the dug-out; but, unluckily, not long before t1 one of our oxen had slipped upon the ice in fyfj to cross from the island, and received which obliged us to kill it. We had thus only left, ana he was not strong enough to ha»! 1(1 back in the wagon to tho settlement. So had to leave me in the dug-out, and started "11 upon his journey of 125 miles to get promising to be back ill twenty days. I ho plenty of food and snow-water, so there was "0 fear of my starving. On the eighteenth hearing a noise outside, I supposed it was returned before his time, and sang out to let know I was ail right. For answer there into the little dug-out a party of Indians 1 soon surrounded by as mauy as the hut hold, and I saw at a glance that they were T'jvaa warpath. They began threatening me wi"1 ver* and tomahawks, aud things did not l°" ..weS bright; then the chief looked in, and I re,c?" irlau him as "Rain in the Face," an 0'}* t;0 whose eainp J bad °"CI* v'sited- I called o nun that I knew him, and that a year ago + lived in the same place as he did, had p^y with his children. He remembered me, an<l ]n«P mg into the midst of his warriors, stopped th* £ just as they were about to kill me. This is ofllf a papoose-a boy," he exclaimed "we do not ti*"» with boys, but with me, «q they spared ttw life, but everything I had i., the hut, except meat, they took away. After this the days oa^j and went, but no Dave Harrington appeared- feared he must have perished in a storm, or caught by tho Indians, for the twentieth day long past. But he cam# at last, on the ninth day, bringing a yoken of oxen. bUt He had suffered territly in the snow-drifts?^ he persevered through everything, and putting in the waggon, cpnveyed me back safely settlement, where! finally recovered. Dave a brave fellow he imperilled his life to rescue |n^| and showed what one man, whose nerve doe* fail him, will sometimes dare tor auathor i*» I wild country.—'Murray's Magazine.
A BUDGET OF FAMOUS JOKES.
A BUDGET OF FAMOUS JOKES. George Caiman the younger, being asked knew Theodore Hook, replied Certainly Uø. Y, and eye are old asiociates." During t t- illness of Colman, the doctor, being late In appointment, apologised to bis patient, that he had been called in to see a man who h* fallen down a well. "Did he kick the buck* doctor?" groaned out poor George. Tbeod0 Hook, on presenting himself for matrioulafciQR 4 Oxford, was asked, according to the form at t time de rigueur, whether he were willing to scribe to the Thirty-nine Articles. He repl'0^ with alaerity, Certainly forty, 'f y°u please." An illiterate vendor of beer wrQ, over his door at Harrowgate, "Bear sold "He spells the word quite correctly," Theodore Hook, "if he means to apprise n* -ag the article is his own bruiu." Matthews asked what he was going to do with his soof young man's profession was to be that be architect), "Why," answered the comedians, A. is going to draw houses like his father- sg friend attending on Matthews in his last1' found that he had given him some ink .^r0l.,af phial in mistake for hia medicine. On d'sCl* 1)f!f ing the error he exclaimed, "Good hea £ Matthews, I have given you ink!" mind, my dear boy, never mind said faintly, "I'll swallow a little piece of Motinw paper." On the production of an °V9t'A The Haunted Tower, hy C >bb, a gel'11* I friend said to the author What a In ¡"II"II!'>' to call your opera 4 The Haunted Tower Wtl1.: there was no spirit in it from bpginninf to «" A lady having put to Canning the sillv -Why have they made the space-- in gate, at Spnng Gardens HO narrow' he r-1" ,1 "Oh ma'am because suc|, ve;y fftt used to go through." (a reulv coiic^"1 which Tom Moore rem irked that "tl^ person who does not r«li*h it can have ofrCTl,vHn Robert Peel, 6l^k;,t of Loid Lldon, remarked that "« failings leaned to virtue's sideupon ^riTed his lordship's sampled the Leaning Tower of Pisa, which, spite of Itr; long inclination, had never yet ll. over. Sidilty Smith waid of Macaulay 14 lid .b)6 book .n breeches. He is certainly more :ig'*efla III t,; since his return from India. His enemie* 111 a hf.ve said before (though I never did so) t»ae talked rather too much but now lie has 09* *>ional flashes of silence that makes his couV*r» » tion perfectly delightful." Sidney Smith said ¡. another time of Macaulay that H h. not tlU 1, overflowed with learning, but stood in the slù,I Agftin Lord Melbourne said, "I wish I we1" sure of any one thiug as that Tom Maeaulay Is everything."
APPEARANCES WERE DECEPTIVE
APPEARANCES WERE DECEPTIVE Tourists (passing quiet-looking country There seems to be au air of sweet, calm, dre* contentment and long-suipmer-day quiet this place, my friend Inhabitant (leaning on gate) s D-Jes, hey • ought to go up in a bailoon aud look down °n for a second or two You'd ee grandni^^ rattling grandfather with a flail in the marm lioldin' the pantry door agin Ezra s 1 attack of delirious tremens, sister £ »ukey lH ,Vol cyclone pit, dearl clinched with cousin the ownership of a piece of hair ribbon a at the back-door standin' off the sheriff Winchester 44. I'm the only one that ai" 1 j busy but I can't tell how long it will b- may have to eaddle up ad go for tho d« cw> any minute.
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ckB.i Three different waiters at a Southern Inv-el ^r> a little prim, precise Harvard professor ar. (IIIII in quick -ucce"4s ioll, if he would i IV little annoyed, he said to N,, asked, "Is it compulsory* ± I answered our friend and brother, > ¡¡1.1. t'ink it am mock turtle."
A 6AFEGUARD AGAINST INSECTS.
A 6AFEGUARD AGAINST INSECTS. Many people Jo not know how easily they can protect themselves and their children against the bites of gnats and other insects. Weak carbolic acid sponged on the skin and haar, and in some cases the clothing, will drive away the whole tribe. A great many children and not a, few adults are tormented throughout the summer by minute enemies. We know persons who lare afraid of pic- nics and even of their own gardens on this account. Clothing is an imperfect protection, for we have seen a child whose fcot and ankle had been stung through the stocking s-) seriously that for days she could not wear a leather shoe. All this can be averted according to our experience, and that, we believe, of many others, by carbolic acid di- ciously used. The safest plan is to keep a saturated solution of the acid. Tile solution cannot contain more than six or seven per cent., and it may be added to water until the latter smells strongly. This may readily, and with perfect safety, be applied with a sponge. We have no doubt that horses and cattle could be protected in the same way from the flies, which sometimes nearly madden them, and it even seetus possible that that terrible scourge,the African Tsetse fly, might be kept off in the same manner.—Lancet
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Two mothers sat opposite each other in a car on a Michigan Central train going to Toledo the other day. Each had a baby about a year old, and each bøby came in f!)r a share of the admiration of the passengers. This seemed to make the mother's jealous, and after thinking the matter over for a while, one of tliein leaned across the aisle and ■said I feel it my duty to tell you to go into the car ahead with your child, as mine has the whooping cough." Oh has it! Thanks for your kindness, but mino is ail over the whooping cough, and is now coming down with the measles. Perhaps you bad boter co int? tb* &ox i04 1"