The Cardiff Times

I SPLENDID OPPORTUNITIES. II Now Arrival: Any ebanee for young fellow around these parts i West Kemingtonian Yes, lots. If you'd only stand onUide the Buffalo Billeriet all day nobody would want to go inside,"

THE MURDER IN THE RUE DE GAIETE. By A. G. MACDONALD, Author of "The Prefect of A- &C. OHAPTEI I. N the yonr 18-1 obtained iny degree cf medicine in the University of London. My late hard studies had seriously impaired my health, and taking the advice of friends, I started on a Continental t-)ur, in the hope that a change of life and scene -iglit thoroughly recruit my shattered constitution. In the course of my travels I at length found myself in piri. til,,Lt gay city where lire seem-t to be spent in one eternal, whirl of pleasure. Naturally of a re served and retiring disposition, I found little pleasure in the class of amusement that com. mends itself to most men. Theatres and music- halls had no attraction for me. My only recre- ation lay in the indulgence of long walks in the outskirts of the city, where in solitude and quietness I could commune with my thoughts, 'I free from the bustle and excitement of the public streets. One evening after I had been located in Paris only a few weeks, I found that in pursuit of my favourite exercise I had wandered further from tbe city than had been my original intention. It was now quite dark, and I prepared at once to retrace my steps. To my consternation I dis- covered that my rr.ind had been so occupied with problems and theories in connection with my medical studies that I had entirely neglected to observe the route I had taken-in a word, I had lost my way. The city lay behind me. I saw the glare of its j j —- lights, so guided by them I endeavoured to find the road that would ullimately enable me to reach my home in safety. I found the taK anythitl but an easy one. It was pitoh dark, the moon had not yet risen, and I could not see a yard befcreme. At lesigtil, confused and bewildered, I came to a dead halt. At that moment the sound of a horse champing its bit foil on my ear. Guiding myself as best I could in the direction from whence the sound came, I suddenly came violently in contact with some dark object standing ill the roadway. Before I had time to recover from the shock a bright light flashed upon the spot where I had stood, andl became aware that I Was in the immedjate vicinity of a. palatial dwelling, one of the windows of which had that instant been illumined. For some few minutes my eyes were rendered useless owing to the sudden transition from dark. ness to light. At Jength I was able to perceive that I was standing within a few inches of a horse, secured by ,t6 hoad to a light wooden paling surrounding the house. I was just beginning to conjecture what could be the reason for tbe animal being left m tins strange position, made more un- accountable by the fact of its ownsr not being present, when a low grating sound, us of a window being softly drawn up, fell oil my ear. The next I moment a suppressed cry of terror and alarm in a W()Man'ti voice broke the death-like silence, and the figure of a man was, thrown 00 the blind of the windtlw, from whence the bright light shone. An indescribable feeling of terror crept over me. There was no mistaking the meaning of that terrible cry. It was the cry of a human being in all the agony of hopele,8 .Iellpair. An irrosistible impulse seized me. Climbing the low wooden fende, I reached the building. A large peach rte, with Hpreadmg hranches. was trained against tho outside wall. By it8 friendly aid I soon reached the window, and what a scene met. mv view Through a chink in the blind I saw the interior of the room distinctly. It was brilliantly lit; only two persons were in it, a man, a tall, powerfully-built man, and a woman. The man had his; bick to me. The young girl was dressed in full evening costume; she had her face towards me; she was fast losing contciousnpiss her swollen, discoloured face, with its starting eye- I balls, told that. The murderer had his left hand on her throat. The struggle had evidently been a severe one, for the victim's dress was dis- arranged and torn, and her long, golden hair had burst from its fastening., and had fallen in disordered masses over her shoulders and bosom. The murderer's right hand was raised. In it he held a long dagger or knife, With one rapid movement it descended, a stream of blood spouted from the gaping wottnd, and, with a heavy, gasping sigh, the girl sank lifeless to the floor. I was petrified with horror. I seemed to be in a dream, and yet not dreaming. The horror of the scene I had witnessed froze the very blood in my veins. The power of speech, the power of reason, the power of preventing the fell work, all alike seemed to be taken from me. How I had presence of mind to retain my hold in the dan. gerous position in which I was placed I knew not. I tried to scream for assistance, but my lips refund to give utterance to the slightest sound. I was fascinated with terror; my eyea were ri vetted on the terrible eceue before me. The murderer stood motionlesp, glJzill at his victim. A revulsion of feolmg seemed suddenly to over- whelm him. Throwing himself on the bleed. ing form of the young girl, he frantically kissed the cold lips of the corpse. Suddenly be started to his feet. The sound of approaching footsteps had alarmed him. He turned and saw my face at tho window. With a hoarse cry he crossed the room, and made his escape from the scene of bis crime by an open window opposite, and was lost to my view in the d'lrk shadows Outside. The natural instinct of self-preservation came strong upon me. I became aware of the peril in which I was placed, the risk I ran of being accused of being the tterperator of murder were I discovered in my present position. My imperfect acquaintance with the language of the country would make it utterly impossible for me to coherently relate, with any prospect of credano6 being given to my story, what I had just seen, and my present state flf excitement would further increase the suspicion that would be sure to attach iUelf to me. With a violent effort I freed myself from the ohains of terror that bound me. As I reached the ground I heard A horse's hoofs clattering on the dark road, the sound gradually growing famter and fainter, till at length it died away in the distance. I was haunted by the face of the murdered girl every nook and corner seemed to contain her bleeding form. In the excited state of my nerves the terrible scene I had witnessed was Constantly before me. At length the moon rose, and by her pale blue light I was enabled to reach my home. I flung myself on a couch, where, with broken slumbers and horrible dreams, I wearily longed for the blessed light of day. Next morning my memory vividly retained I the events of the previous night, I was uri- i decided what course to pursue. At first I thought I of acquainting the authorities of wlia*" had I witnessed. The fear of being arrested myself for the crime deterred me, for I had enough knowledge of police procedure to be aware that, though the fact of my being in that locality could innocently enough be explained, the very simplicity of my story would in all likeli- hood made it the more difficult to be believed by men who, by reason of their vocation, had to deal with those whose every word was a lie, and every thought a crime. Ultimately I decided on saying nothing about the matter till at least I heard whether the murderer had been captured or not. With this resolve I descendod to the afreet, and soon found myself in a neighbouring cn.ré, which, as usual, was crowded with customers busily engaged in discussing the contents of the morning papers. I have said before that my knowledge of the French language was very limited, and, owing to the rapid manner in which my Com- panions conversed, I found myself utterly unable to understand their remarks, but I could easily see from their excited gestures that something of unusual interest was the topic of conversation. "Has anything seriouli occurred?" I asked of a man who sat at one of the tables, forgetting for the moment that it was possible he might not understand me. The man looked at me for a few moments in astonishment, and then replied in broken English. Has Monsieur not see the paper ? Hits he not heard the terrible news ?" I answered in the negative. The Marchioness de C- was murdered last night in her own house in the Rile de Gaiete.' The man must have noticed my excitement, for he immediately added, I see Monsieur is horrified. Choked first, Monsieur, then stabbed to the heart. The lovely Marchioness who had the whole of Paris at her feet. Mon Dieu what an end. It is ten thou- sand pities Monsieur." II And who committed this foul murder? I asked. t "That is the question everyone is asking. Mon- sieur. No one saw the murder committed. The Marchioness was at an evening party last night, and, saying she felt unwell, left earlier than usual. She would not allow the Marquis to accompany her. Tho footman who opened the door when she arriv«d home says she looked flashed and excited. She retired alone at once to her private apartment?. What occurred after no one knows, Monsieun The Marquis, feeling anxious about his lady, left the party almost immediately after her. When lie reached home he went straight to his wife's room, and, to his horror, found her lying on the floor in a pool of blood, dead. One of the windows in the room was wide open, but they say, Monsieur, that, the murderer must have entered the room by the other window, for the great peach tree growing on the wall has many of its branches broken, as if someone had climbed up it, and there are marks of horse's hoofs on the road out. side." The Frenchman stopped abruptly to sip his coffee. And-and," I stammered, scarcely knowing what I said, have they discovered what was the reason for committing the In ur(Jer "That is the greatest mystery of all, Monsieur. Though the Marchioness was wearing thousands of francs' worth of jewellery, not so much as a ring was touched. It is whispered, Monsieur, lowering his voice as he spoke, that the Mar- quis murdered iliA wife himself. He was terribly jealous of her. She was only a poor farmei's daughter in one of the provinces when he married her. Such iiiarriigfi4 seldom bring happiness with them, Monsieur." "Describe her husband, the Marquis, to roe, I eagerly demanded. The Frenchman shrugged his c-boulderfj and laughed. "Surely Monsieur has no lived long in Paris, Or ho would know the Marquis de C— Is he a tall, handsome man ?" I inquired. "Monsieur is surely joking. Would lie can a hunchback, soarcely higher than this table, u tall man? Would he call a lame man handsome? No, Monsieur. If the husband had been murdered Paris would not hava deplored it much, but to lose the loveliest of her women, it i. bard to bear." With this remark the little Frenchman lit his cigarette, and, bidding me good morning, left me. And as I had been the solitary spectator of thim mysterious crime, I felt tbftukful now that I had not divulged the secret, for I plainly saw that suspicion, made doubly strong by the fact of my being a foreigner, would have surely attached itself to me. Paris had no attraction for me now. Next day I left the city. Little did I think ps I left its towers and spires behind that the mystery of that terrible deed in the Rue de Giticti would be explained to me by the murderer himself in another lanJ, and under melancholy circum- stances, years after the crime had been perpe- trated. CHAPTER II. The older a man becomes the faster do the years speed over his head, and I can scarcely bring myself to believe that ten years have elapsed sime the events narrated in the preceding chapter occurred. It is long since I abandoned the medical profession, I soon found I could never hope to climb the laddet of fame by its aid. My reserved manner made me little adapted to succeed in walk of life where so much depends upon suavity and cheerfulness of disposition. I have devoted myself entirely to literary pursuits. The efforts of my pen have I been received with approbation bv crit;ox znA beeD received with approbation bv criti<"l and, public alike, and people point to me as being the most successful author of the age. I do not keep much company, though, heavens know:" every poat brinos me invitations to all sorts of entertainments. I have only one friend, and he comes up occasionally to see me in my quiet apartments. He is manager of a well- known metropolitan theatre, and is a little, stout, chatty, cheery follow, who seems to go through life with au eternal halo of sunshine around him. One evening the conversation fell on the merits and demerits of a play creating a great sensation just then. After my friend left the sudden thought struck me. should I not write a drama myself ? The more I considered the matter the more feasible the project appeared. The long-forgotten murder in tha Hue de Gaiete came vividly to my memory. Why not found my plot Oil it ? I set my imagi- uative faculties to work, and some after, when the drama was finished, I placed it in my friend's; hands for his perusal. To my great satisfaction the play met with his utmost approval. The white face at the window watching the mysterious murderer at his fell work is terribly sensational," he said. "However did you think of that?" I told him what I had seen that night in the Rue de Gaiete. And the rest of the story is what you imagine would impel a man to commit such a crime. Quite likely these Frenchmen are terrible devils when their jealousy is aroused. Who are we to get to play the murderer? There's a man who joined my company a short time ago from what I have seen of his acting I believe he would play the part to perfection. He speaks with a slightly foreign accent—all the better; it will make the character he depicts the more realistic." After soms further conversation my friend bid me good-night, and, departing, left me alone. To my great disappointment I was unable to attend the rehearsals of my drama, A violent attack of rheumatism, an illness to which I was subject, confined ma to my room. Days passed on, and to my satisfaction I found myself sufficiently recovered to be able to appear on tho first night of the production of iny play. The large buildiug was crowded to excess when I took my seat in the private box set apart for ma. All the wealth, beauty, and talent of the great metropolis was there. The fact of the new drama. being the work of an author who had already achieved success in a different branch of literature made it doubly attractive. The overture is played, and the curtain rises slowly on the fiist act. As I sat in my box watch- ing the development of the play the whole of my attention was naturally concentrated on the actor who played tho leading part, and on whom so much depended. He was a tall, powerfully, built, swarthy-complexioned man. To my astonishment, he seemed strangeiy nervous and excited. His face was pale as that of a corpse; he seemed to be labouring under some intense excitement, for, on more than one occasion, he passed his hand across his forehead as if with difficulty he was enabled to bring his faculties to bear on what surrounded him. Annoyed at the man's apathy, the audience showed distinct signs of disapprobation. Inwardly, I cursed the stupidity of a manager who placed such an important part in the hands of a maa who seemed utterly unfit to do it justice. 01 a sudden the man's whole manner changed with a violent effort he gained control over him- self. The last scene in the first act was reached, the scene in which he denounces the woman who has deceived him. The terrible reality of his suppressed passion sent a thrill through the vast assemblage, aud the death-like silence was only broken by tbe convulsive gasping words that burst from the while lips of the broken-hearted man. Amid a tremendous burst of applause the curtain fell, and in response to loud calls the actor appeared aud bowed his acknowledgments. As he passed mo, so close that I almost could have touched him, the footlights cast their glare full on his face. Ho was ghastly pal". An indescribable feeling of terror crept over mé. Like a vision in a dream, that white and livid face seemed strangely familiar to me; where bad I seen it before? A terrible thought passed through my mind could it be possible no, no. Again the sweet music swelled through the build- ing, drowning the hum of the many voices around me. Again the sound of the tinkling bell, and the curtain slowly rises. The pla.y proceeds, the terrible suspicion that fills my mind becomes stronger and stronger. Tho last act is leached, and the cuhoinating point in the drama ap- proaches. Again I see the brilliantly-lit room with the young girl in it; again I see the mur- derer approach her with stealthy, Cat-like stride; again see that terrible struggle for life; again that wild cry rings in my 6&r», and I see. as 1 saw it years before, in all its terrible reality, the white, hopeless, despairing face of the terror. stricken girl. Paralysed with terror, and for the moment in my excitement forgetting entirely where I was, with a hoarse cry I sprang to my The mur- derer turned and saw my startled, livid face. With ft wild, unearthly scream he raised his hands above his head, and fell with a heavy crash un. conscious on the floor. The terrible truth flashed upon me now: he had been depicting tha tragedy of his own life. The spectators, suddenly awakened from the spell that bound them, applauded vociferously a dark coloured liquid trickled from from the lips Of the unconscious man figures rushed from the wings to bis assistance, and the curtain fell rapidly. Something terrible had occurred, and the crowd conversed together in awe-stricken tones as they slowly left the theatre. I sat as if in a traMe, speechless and motionless. A hand was suddenly placed on my shoulder. I turned and saw the face of my friend, the manager. He is dying," he suddenly whispered, and wishes to see you." Mechanically I rose and followed him. With all the tinsel and mockery of pleasure around nim, there, Ott a rude bed, the sufferer lay with the clotted blood on his white lips. Leave me alone," he gasped to those around him as he saw me approaching. Monsieur," he muttered hoarsely, they tell me you are the author of that play. You have written the secret of my life. ITor ten long years I have struggled to forget the past, bub without avail. I am haunted by the face of that murdered girl. Even now," he continued wildly, I see it as plainly as I saw it on that night of horror. God knows how I loved her. An irresistible fas- cination compelled me to piny that part. It was the retribution of Heaven." He ceased speaking for a few seconds he lay back on his rude pallet utterly exhausted. Suddenly he started, and with a violent effort raised himseif on his elbow. Did the devil tempt you to write that play ♦ lie asked fiercely. 1 saw the murder committed," I answered simply. A terrible look passed over the dying mart's face. His eyes glared wildly at me. He sprang to his feet, a stream of blood spouted from his lips, the awful pallor of death was on his face. With a hoarse, Suffocating cry, he fell back. God had punished hjrn-he was dead The End.

HOW TO MAKE DRAPERY FIREPflOOF. Professor R. Ogden Doremus, writing to a New York paper, calls attention to a few scientific faots which he has for many years mentioned in his lectures to medical olasse*, to students in the City College, and to the public. Twenty years ago the light summer dress of one of his childrfcn caught fire, and before the flames could be ex- tinguished they had accomplished their fatal work. The heartrending accident induced him to make a aeries of experiments to prevent its recurrence. He dippad articles of clothing into solutions of IttngAtate of soda, borax, and other chemicals. After drying the textures he found uninflammable, but none of these agents were as effective as a solution of phosphate of ammonia iu water. Let anyone place delicate tissues, as those of which ladies' veils are made, or curtain material*, or thicker textures of cotton or hnen in tho said solution, "wring them out," and stretch them to dry, after which apply a lighted matoh to them, or plunge them in the gas flame. It will be impossible to set tire to them. They will blacken and be destroyed the name touohes them, but the flame will not spread, neither will there be any residue of red- hot cinders. If the launnress would add to her preparation ùf stArch a soiutioll of the phos- phate of ammonia (about four ounces to the cpmrt of water) before dipping curtain", underclothlu. and dresses therein, and drying them, she will render then uninflummable. If in ooerA-botugg or theatres, the curtains, flies, and even the wood- woik are impregnated with this phosphate ot ammonia, they will, be proof against catching tire; they will only char when is applied them. If the owners of theatres and opara-houses neglect the employment of some such agents the law should be resorted to for the protection of the public.

At Newport. Mrs Diatnonddusfs imported London footman has made his first apDearanofl in "Proud to mec. you, SIr. How do yon lik* Newport, sir? line place, ain'oit?" London lootman (condescendingly). coachy I hkes your town yell enough for Hamerica. It's clean, the situation is hairy, hand UlI( sell breeze is refreshm haf;er the veariness of a fanlmibble run o Lunnon But I don't like your chambagne, coachy Ita all gewsberry. Hand you have no rewings. Coachman: He, he you haven't seen missus by daylight, have you V'—Town Topics. t

;¡,. L. M Glamorgan Antiquities. -4 (By Henry G. Butterworth.) XLI.—SWANSEA TOWN-Part IV In this article I propoile-so far as my limited space will allow-to give a slight sketch of what Swansea was during the first half of the present century. To follow that up by showing what the growingbownhae since become is beyond my scope. A little book published about 1720 describes Swansea as noted for the manufacture of straw hats; and that it had a considerable trade in coal and that it was the best-built and most cleanly town in all Wales." This character foi cleanliness was maintained, for at the commence- ment of the present century the streets were cleanly swept very early in the morning and strewed with sand. Increased trade, however, about this time (according to Malkin) and the great influx of occasional visitors, and occupations, dirty in many of their departments, did not admit of the former nicety. Still," he continue. I. it is a very cleanly place, and the most so of any aige town in Wales." At this time a very flourishing pottery was carried on on Wedgwood's pbn. Another writer a few years earlier says:- Swansea makes a handsome appearance from the approach to it being builj near the mouth of the Tavey,onii;otnewliateeini.cii.tilfr rising bank above it. The town is populous and the streets are wide; it carries ou a considerable trade in coal-3, p,itte.,y, and copper." About this time, i. e,, 1801, the number "f houses were stated as 1,339, and the population, as taken by William opencer and Morgan Howel, overseer*, amounted to 6,831 souls, as compared with 1,870 at Cardiff. Swansea during the next ten years had increased to 1,695 houses and the population to 8,196, while Cardiff numbered (it m a?sea ,s "ow increased more than six- told, while the total population of Glamorgan has advanced nearly at tha.t ratio. In 1763 the total number of vessel* m the custorn-hou«e books were entered out as 694 tonuag,. 30 631. In 1880: vessels, 2,580; tontuRe, 15*,26*. In 1810: vesseIs, 2 717; tonnage, 171,672. In 1851: vessels 3,616; tonnage, 269,451. S > that up to a recent date, while the number of vesseUs had not doubled that of 1810, yet the tonnage had ■creased nearly tenfold, showing the wonderful development in shins ° ahe copper-smelt.ng trade, to which Swansea or,,LJ > n9,'f lb0Urh,J"d *;> much of it, fl" early a* 1584 eaJV ii V), V" <U11 ,ts wa>' to Swansea until early m the eighteenth centurv The first works u"«tiS™ '»m?; Thr.>« v««r i i ""luting copper and lead ores. coriLrJn m r taUot,Ter W;,s erected within the corporation l.m.ts I„ 1727 the Taibach works of nrtarfv^ t t ,en\?PP*re»tly, after lull •»riri f\, A Me«» Lncicwood, Morris, CO- tslnr)ved their litisitiess from Llangyfelach Louehor ot,e»ed WOO sr j r u l809-Havod in 1810, xVIorfa in 1834 oil £ "j Work, in 1866. Towards 1840 Mr sevJv! nevv P^iple of the hot blast and miri f wero w^ked on the old method, ouDoltm Tl COU\r'3 construction, as well as ful.„ J;8 M'testpg Iroi, \Vorks had two co *f .Ystalyfera works were then in prospect er ou» au(i the Gweudraeth was in enUg'htenetf Wale* wi, Mr had the« arid Mr Troutrhton T ll'8'/ ^olofic £ ll discoveries, process "for arresting ^r,,U?rhtOUt«lli8 v&D'iurs in Hi« ««»if ) e iS8U6 niephitic S6S,™ hid"»■>*«, "<1 M' £ !■ bi-ated bone caverns 1h fiAaCC°»nt °\ Ce, time a wonderful impetus hafTVJl0 t at Al t.!18 development of the Ehh i T R,v,en-to feha sources^ By 1866 Mr • 8,1,1 ,t8 l'e" thatthediBtrictwasdestinedNff Vivian "believed Of a very large portion of EndlTd^ tlli8tT an acid used in uroducino- f.iiVi,. means of from waste copper smofc* .]» liarly also m the nrn.^i- „ r opened for the manufacture of soap'^IW8' Wero this time showed cdnsldn^L t0Wn at many signs of improvement lit *P ?nd A new theatre wu yu i manifest, tontine shares ()f ten n„Ilri(1y means of survivors of the holders to become" thT.o'le pn? prietors. Public looms w.™ „ P1-0- Burrows, from funds raised by a similar schfern^ the corporation having granted a lease of ground for a term at ninety niil years." An old writer remarked-" These rooL dO more credft to the public spirit of the place than to the taste of the architect, or of the persons who were em- ployed to design or choose the plan on which thev had been Constructed. Tliev form, in truth, as inelegant and nuehapon a pile of buildings as can well be imagined." The manufactories of pottery were then working on a large scale, producing o,arJ °f,ua"t¥ a,,<| .'n ^'Kn equal to those of Staffordshire, of which large quantities were annually shipped. Large quantities (as quantity was then considered) of coal and culm were then In %l XBJ? tl>e P°rk bycanft' for *l'iP'»«ut. In 1791 the corporation obtained an act of Parlia- ment to raise money, enabling tliem to improve the harbour, and during the next 20 years large in ciear,« wss the bed of the river, and removing obstacle a7 its entrance from the sea, Two /evTlet luo western"1rTtiv?ly °tt the eastern and shelter fortar^r *n<1 A<Wd tinwti yiiikJ: ™ snip*. £ ftes& piers were laid cu^ent t, th^^C rTrd tho ^Motion of the currents, «k> that sImdh found mooring aeainst tha walls unsafe I„ l8U a remedy was Kmoud by the construction of cro4s-i>ier ?,,a P time later the Cambrtin lhtneiltst lUuch in this strain" The local advantages of "Swansea are great, and its natural facilities f<» and commerce not often exceeded. tion is favourable to coimn<»rr-;«i situa- th. pomt.Ua. it 002^™™°°?"' *■>? with truth to consist of "ten* »u Yet this place is about twenfl I thousands." even with itself, if We compare wlmf bths.ttd**nl(1 what it ought to be. 0f w with rendered. All thi^l ^L e?ul(? want of unanimity aud n-iWi chiefly from It must be Obvious that Fha 7 J°r wayk of c*P,fcil- in, is not very likelv S « farmer> Persevered the introduction 0f tlL °i ?! »»<*>«r»wnenfc to cannot well be suoSL, l ,requi?lte' wllicU suicidal systemWhiM,? u"d?r 4 The inhabitants mi^hV pur*ued ,n Pub,IC dry harbour, exo^fc P?s*fs ">ost easily a capital ^.a™H;V4TrirJ0tT; pier-wall, thev iv,« They have a ruinous and a dangijT .a PaucUy <>i funds, town. Tbey shonlH ur un,Jer fchetr of bridges, a ehort by »neaus Which to ennunurtWt • 68irabl0 route, by Th«y have «»* neighbours" the worst contrived? 5 ex(:ePc indeed —a ferry, .0»er which iJili Ucked 0xP0rjient carriage can Ma3„ w;n.er man» beast, nor be considered eouitf«ift, f ? yi or comfort, is to easily aequired miS! i .t0 H {»* be"er and very many other lesttL In traced as ever basv tl i» ? unanimity may be prise, and toavm ,ami mM e,,t«r- tlie £ ethean watem was sfcirrm/ faithful, «nd patriotU ii' Vt!n*ea»ce. K°od» then, tbatSwanapil ,ilnWge> No wonder, tor aniong^S'^p^^J with such a Meii- cuUies and made a' IT' J'V,er,ca'n?9 a11 these diffi- docks, connected w m i harbo?,r with *reitt how the ein^rnriinf H t'T. system, Swansea win. » inhabitants has rqrmshed rWi?, b°iidyw tiol1s of various killd<l. hl\spitøl! a fine museum relate T !i CJlne8 under my province to world'knowg tffim?8 VV°rld' a"d the to"have mLi-i\CftHtuiry it was thought sufficient to have nitdtif; of Communication afforded by "the fr>rii „JipSS8lnK tbr"Ugh from London to Mil- morning about six o'clock, and another 'r'|m Milford for London every evening 0 clock, supplemented by two other coaches that ran to Bristol and Gloucester on alternate days. Then the MaCkworth Arrns Inn pallty t0 fcbe 'n the frinci- 1840 the means of travelling had increannrl somewhat the old Milford mau stiil dashed i\r.o«« K town daiIy' Vl^kin« slutnberine echoes by means of tba red-coated guard's ho™ Packets sailed regularly to Dublin, Waterford ?'i Cork, and occasionally to Ilfracombe for u>! I passage a sum ot 10* 6i was chartrei! .cli week packets departed for Bristol, fares a Tlie.Gollegian coioh left the Castle Hotel »» days, ihursdayS, and Saturdays uea" alternate days; and a covered CarVatf. fIA,nsf on then on Tuesdays and Fridays 'r! 9arin!>1'" mail left the Castle every eveinn,, a ^,anelly considered sufficient some ten v» 8 was itig the great exhibition in °,nly Pr«ced- tr»de and showing foreigner* thf wl,en £ rao with our own was to revolm;' ,\v;iy t0 heat us war, and make England ,» Zti llB world, end happiness. Discord WJ.' jf')reover« the abode of within her bordees • f»;n. r more t() be heard live to see many of "tu i-«i,fifremetnbor it wall,and In parliamentarv A" Reform Bill, SwLsJ the town, sharing S n ? corporate as a contributory boroLh i t Z8 Prfvil*tfa ber. The cornortHr -m ^tii.g one mem- aldermen, two comtn co'18'sted of a portreeve, 12 a town clerk and l>n A°r chamberlains, town has received 8er2fsin|'s-ftt*mace. The granted by llenrv irr° Mroyal cl,arters—the first the third bv V,H ,vVie ^cond by Edward II., Cc<mZ\ iu?JZ vnU t'1" fourth by Oliver' fifth by Ja,»es TT 22ih' \6"5)' and tbe first yearof hi ('ted the 28th March, in the two markets werrw,!)'aTi \Semp0Wcred to h(),d Saturdays Tl f 1H exercised on system P i t portreeve under the old 1834 5 • J,?. Vi C<r-fc ll'ch;ird Jones, Esq.- Munici'ml A t mayor under the new! 1835-6 Y» -\r |Va,s i< \t',auiel Cameron, E q.— thut fronP/fSSS f ".ttention to the fact reevJ A ■ inclusive the title of port- \Z ITti dn>PllT and that "f substituted, John nlni't" w n'-SerVi^ boin* Lewis Jones' virlnie'l W'Hiam Bayley, and Thomas Oiivtt*' rr j^aK under the last four years of chartlr 1^' a i™*11 t,me be grained the nti lfche P™ble of which \lAI! :-<t Whereas, wT*i» a ^"zsy.in our co. of Glamorgan, i^lin our dominion of Wales, is an ancient port town, and populous «itUHted on the sea coast owards trance, convenient ior 8bippinit and resisting foreign invasions, and time out of mind ba.tb bee" A town corporate the town i<iiI be for ever hereafter adjudged a free town i'* it 0,,sib» that the people therein we'l'Mg, and hitherto called and known by the na.meof portreeve, alderman, and burgesses, shall troin henceforth and for ever be., continue, and re- main one body politique and corporate in deed and in name, by the name of mayor, alderman, and burgesses of the town of Swanzey. Odr well.belbvet:i Lewis Jones, now portreeve, to the first and present mayor; our right trusty and well-beloved councillor, Philip Jones, to be first and present high steward our well-beloved ltowlatid Dawkins. Lewis Jones. John Boweu, I Henry Fleming, Joh-i Bennett, John Daniel# William Bayley, Matthew David, Tnomas William. William Vaughan, William Joues, and Robert Jones to be the first and present twelve aldermen; our beloved John Pritv, EiC¡, ) .Ui Evan LAWJ, John Matthew, David Gr tii n, Jenkin Philip, Thomas Philip, David Bayley, John William", John Daniel, John S mood, John Richard, and Thomas D >!lin to tie first and present twelve capital burgesses, a nd our well-beloved John Gibbs, E"q" t" be firsu and present recorder." With the restoration canie back the old system, and tho> mayor was again portreeve, and so continued to 1835. The biy of Swansea u-ed to Oe compared with that of Naples, and the quay or strand was still to present a busy scene. G,),i stood in the Burrows, and sailing matches and horse races were held annually. A new chursh was in contemplation, and the only mineral spring in the county of Glamorgan is at Swansea. It has an acid styptic taste like alum, though t,hP predominant sale is vitriolic." It was aiso boasted that South Wales could vie with Englati(I i?t ',$ scientific institution, patron'Z^I by her most gracious Majesty our youthfuiqupen."A»randstiuo ture was in contemplation to be built in th'-J Gre^k styhb, as a pattern to all Wales. Mr W. Williams, of Aberpergwm, patronised the Cymre'gy ldioi» Society, which held a conspicuous place, and where addresses in English and Wehh were delivered. A religious tract society flourished# and the Swansea and Neath Horticultural Society bestowed prize medals on successful competitors. A clothing society was looked on as evidence (If thrift among the working classes. The bathing house lay half-a-mile from the town, and Swansea had a line sandy beach. Pleasant walks and drives could be obtained around the town, which in winter was not so clean as it might have been. Pumps and shower baths existed, aud a news- paper (the Cambrian) was printe I by M irray and Rees, and the General Weekly Advertiser ha I the largest circulation in Wales. A Swansea guide was published, and tM Misses Jenkins kept a circulating library of three volume novels, historical aud philosophical works. Daily papers and the monthiy could be looked at at tho Glamorgan Library* and the theatre was small bus commodious. Beside the Alack worth Arms, the Ivy Bugti, Wheat Sheaf, Old Ivy Bush,were licensed to sell beer, wine, spirits, &j., to be consumed on tha premises, and tne George, in Wind-street, possessed a billiard-table, and a bail Court ouS behind the ^Fountain and Red Lion on the Strand followed suit. wAt, R,"h:,rt distance from the town was f V«ivr* frotii which the beautiful sceriery of Alount Pleasant" could be seen to advantage. 1 lie pleasure gardens of the Pleasant Mount con- sisted of four acres l*id out in grass, trees, and cw\Ve'* j" i 11 esplanade 40 feet wide, and. 800 yarns long afforded means of promona iiiig* 1 tlnnn the lions of Swansea, 50 vears ago, are all summed up-and next week I will move aloftg in iny legitlltato line to the interior of Gower.

ALONE. Still earth turns and pulses stir, And eaoh day hath its deod But if I be dead to her. What ííl the lifè I lead t ° w? tl,e ,«iokoo for the wood When the red leaves are down ? Stltys the robin near the brood Whet% tl]OY Rte fledgt*d ati(i II)wn conimoii aii- To both its bounty brinf^ Mockery Can the absent share ihe half-forgotten things ? Barren comfort fancy doles o u -An tPuly' SuHeri Larth can sever souls Fat as the Pleiades. Totko thy toys, stepmother Barth— fake force of limb and brain All thy giftei are little worth Till hot I find again. Grass may spring and buds may xtir- Why should mine eyes take heed For if I be dead to her, Thon I am dead Indeed. -A,tdre,v Hedbrooke in the Atlanta .11IJlirJ&,fJ. iJt#-

WOMEN OF BUSINESS. It w a curious fact, which I hat" i throughout my life, that the strongest, tiolifest, wisest men are those who are the leaatafrAil1 f\ granting to women all the rivht" they c(latil possibly desire, and the most generous in AlloWihj> them all the qualities, so often dormant througl" neglected education, which they possess in com- mon with men. One of these, strange as it 1r.ilY ?pPe*r»18 tba business faculty usually attfiti««' :!i|0».nle,, onIy-^cepfc in 1'rance!- specially among the bourgeoisie, Madame vbe business of the family, wiiich p^P^ ccor ingly. Despite her revolutions there ijoricheir, more economical, nor more thriving country than France, and none where wotnefi d" more work or are more hiorhly regarded. would never let my daughter marry an English- man," said to me once a French lady, n batter "busineM woman" and doing daily more PActtéAt; work than most men "ras matris Ani. toujours tyrans." I hope not, but, tttrrr if English husbands and fathers would be w»«"r instead of saying conlemptnouftly w<nn<»i» never understand business," they tatilfh'u tneir womenkind to understand it. This would lighten their own hands amazingly, take from tilelc, tbe worries which convert them into kUuP''5'* tyrants, besides being an incalculable tage to the women tbemselves. Mew, from d't large ego, have a tendency to take interest ciiiw in their <»Wn aflEairs, to see things solely fro. own point of view, and to judge they are, bub as the world will look ar. tl^«l with leferenoe to their individn\l ilvi. their power and inclination to t .ke trouble are T^rr*'8' Her've^ narrowness matters of minute dTT"1" and rlel'hl" wider, his vision hrf ■ A m tual strength general^' S Phys,cal a»d but he is as a »,?i i y creator than ii woman able to throw ibn ?-* Prud«nf» Ul4H interests of ,!li out of b,av,elf, aud into th« woman people. Granted a capable practie'il sj 0,16 .w'10 has had even a tithe of supDosed f ,"Clitioii that all men havw or 3ay an exeo ,lave».sile wil1 (Jo » matter of bu«ines»-, anv m»n 'P' secretaryship, kc., as well*9 she ?r 6veu better than most men, because /„ 7ftke more pains.— Front ConcerniW en> ta the GomhiU Magazine."

THACKERAY'S VIEWS OF DEATH I don't pity anybody who leaves the world, llÓ. even a fair young girl in her prime I pity thol6 remaining. On her journey, if it pleases God tO send her, depend on it there's no cause for grief I that's but an earthly condition. Out of out stormy life, and brought nearer the Divine ligbl and warmth, there must be a serene cliMate. Can't yon fancy sailing into the calm ? Would you care about going on the voyage but for tb. dear souls left on the other øhore 1 But we shan't be parted from them, no doubf; though they are from us. Add a little more intelligence to that which we possess even A' we are, and why shouldn't we be with our friends# though ever so far off ? Why presently, the body removed, shouldn't we per' sonalty be anywhere at will properties of creation, like the electric something (spark is it 1) that thrills all round the globe simultaneously J and if round the globe why not Ueberall ? and tbtf body being removed or elsewhere disposed of and developed, sorrow and its opposite, crime and thø reverse, ease and disease, desire and dislike, &a.# go along with the body—a lucid intelligence rtJ" mains, a perception ubiquitous.—From thO Thackeray Letters in Scribner's Magazine.

THE CAPRICIOUS CANDLE, Put a lighted candle behind a bottle, pickle-ja't or any other object having a polished surface then station yourself at about twelve inches irott the object, so that it hides the flame of the candle from you, and blow with your breath. The candle will be very easily extinguished, in consequence the currents ot air that you have created around the object meeting near the flame. With a boted or a sheet of oardboarct of the width of the bottle extinct)on would be impossible. This experi* ment has a counterpart that has been communi- cated to us by M. Harmand, of Paris. Take two bottles instead of one, and place them alongside of each other, so as to leave a space of half an inch between them. Plaoe the caudle opposite the space, and preserving the sarre distance as bèforø between your mouth and the cantile, bl,)w strongly against the flame. Not only will the latter not b* extinguished, but it will incline slightly toward you as if through the effect of suction. Thj3 phenomenon, which is analogous to the v>rece'. ing, is due to the fact that as a portion of the <\I cannot pass between the bottles, it a.)ws aro" their exterior and returns to the operator. OhtVChC\$Vm

Rogers tells this story of himself:—A stopped me once in Piccadilly, and said, H"* do you do, Mr Rogers?" I didn't know .i i 6 remetfthef me, Mr Rogers ? I ''• £ ? the pleasure of seeing you at Bath." I said, ''V* lighted to see you again-at Bafclj,"

IT OCCASIONALLY FAILS TO WORK. He had read in it. tiewspaper that one Can wiike at any hour in the morning by firmly fixing that hour in hia mind before going to sleep. "IU make it just seven o'clock; that'll just give me time to catch the 8.20 train comfortably."