Papurau Newydd Cymru
Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru
24 erthygl ar y dudalen hon
Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau
24 erthygl ar y dudalen hon
4||11&WHO Giveth jfW ! mmm…
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
4||11&WHO Giveth jfW mmm Woman? pP William JL e. Q v e ux I < ■ 11 — !■« IB ■ 1 CHAPTER I. Which is Purely Private. I The mystery was inexplicable. Indeed, I I think you will agree with me that the curious sircumstances combined to form the most bo- wildering and exciting enigma that has ever presented itself to the human intelligence for j solution. Although it all happened in broad daylight, in the actual throbbing heart of oar own roaring London, the public have through nearly fonr years remained in total ignorance of the startling occurrence. There are, however, two reasons for this, tha hrst being that Scotland Yard instantly teaoived upou the strictest wecreey, in order that csrtain persons of high social positiou who appeared to have some con- section with the amazing aEtair shonld not have their name^i dragged into it nnnecessarily and secondly, what was of tnoro importance to me personally, was the fact that from the very out- set, I knew myself to be a marked man. and therefore, dare not give publicity to the strange sequence of remarkable events and exciting ad- ventures. To-day, however, although after this lapse of time I am still a man marked down for secret assassination, and to avoid which I am corn- pelled to live undar an alias and to assume a sharaetar that is not my own, I have after due ■sonsideration of the great risks I run, resolved to give to the world a plaiJ1.¡ unvarnished narra- tive of what actually occurred to me as well as toothers. One pledge I have extracted from the writer who is taking down my strange chapter of per- sonal biography—for I am no literary man my- self—and it is that my assumed name and character shall be kept an absolute and in- violabie secret. The disclosures I am about. to rnaka will, I anow, cause my enemies to re- double their frantic efforts 10 close my mouth J hence I am compelled to live like the Wander- ing Jew, a life of constant change, of never- ending ttaval, of shams and ingenious subter- fages. The present writer who is taking down my confessions at my dictation, has for the past eighteen months, been actively endeavour- ing to induce me to relate my story, declaring that a full and complete version of the affair from my own lips, would come as a startling sur- prise upon many persons throughout the lengtii and breadth of the Kingdom. 1 have no doubt it will. Although my constant evasion of those who seek my life has recently taken me iuco a. nlltnber of obscure places in Ireland, Scotland, and in various towns in the South of Europe, my friend I has so constantly pressed me, that to-da*, in a room over-looking the vine-covered slopes of the purple Appenines, I have sat down to narrate to him what is peruap3 the strangest story man has ever lived to tell. For a moment I feel myself safe from those fearless enemies who have so doggedly followed poe with evil intent, for I have full confidence in tbe man whose name my strange adventures will bear upon their title-page, well knowing Lbat to neither my friends nor my enemies will he divulge the name or character which I have Wopted ID order to safeguard my life. I We have agreed that I am to tell him the plain and exact truth, while he on bis part is to write it, and publish it to the world so that Others mav read and gain both profit and warn- ing from my extraordinary experiences. And as the pen of the practised writer runs so rapidly and evenly over the paper, placing these forewords as preface to this record of mystery, I find myself gazing across to where the giant mountains loom boldly iorth against the deep '1 orange and pale rose of the autumn afterglow, recalling that weil-remombered day foar years ago-tile meat fateful in all my life—when the first ol the series ot curious adventures befel me. The afternoon in question was grey and cloudy in London, sunless as it so often is beneath the smoke-pail in the first chili days of November. Bat it was nevertheless dry, with a sharp, cut- ting east wind, rendering the cheerless side streets of the Metropolis greyer and duller than even they were wont to be. There is, perhaps, no scene more dismal than the minor thorough- fare" of smoke-gri med uniform booses, each with its few yards of blackened iron railings, ita area-gate and its six more or less hearth- stoned steps to the long row of front doors. If you know your London, you know hundreds <0f sach streets, tho one not differing one whit^rom the other, except, perhaps, in the nmr;ber of stories to the houses or the degree of di^oiQesa of the holland or Venetian blinds. Although a Londoner bred and born, the side street always depressed me-be it ra j^e West Knd or in the East—-aud the morej^Q qq giev, dry November day, or ou a Sup^jay afternoon when the only sign of movement, 115 the ateady gait and continuous beIl-iinvmR of that half- ^•^oue'u^ nuk^'wi^^A^'aays of our youth—the t ypemnSin rnan. On the afternoon in question I was not, how- ever, depressed. Far from it, for if my feelings may be judged by circumstances I suppose I really must have been highly elated. The fact waa that a great change had come to me—a change of fortune, which bad in one single hour raised me from my buwbjepoeltioD as assistant in the hoisery department of a wholesale drapery warehouse in Aldermanbury, to a man of inde- pendent means. It was half-past two o'clock. Only one hoar before .had I first learned the almost incredibly good news which meant the realisation of my dreams. I suppose I ought, in order that you shall pro- perly understand aiy position, to tell you thaS my father was noor, but of an ancient and dis- tinguished Norfolk family. In his youth he bad been in a crack regiment, but through foolishly assisting a brother officer pecuniarily he had been "tetin so badly that he had been compelled to resign his commission and torn insurance agent. This was about the time of my birth, hence being brought up in a cheap southern suburb I only received the advan- tages of a ninopence-a-week schooling, and at the age of seventeen an opening was found for me in the entering-rcom oi the wholesale house of Messrs. Uopesteak, Cook and Bradbury, in Alderm:1.nbury. Four long weary years I spent in that close gas-lit basement through which passed bales cf goods of every description to be entered, packed and despatched to drapers' shops in every corner of the world, until I became promoted to a post in the tios'ery department on the first floor, less dusty and open to the light of at least the cor- ragated glass reflectors, if not to the open day- 2 light itself. D. In common with the millions of othsraof my niellow-toilers in London, I longed foe the country, ever chafing against the gyves that held me in that driving, wearing life of the cay six days out of the seven, ever dreaming and wondering if such happiness would one day come to me. Most of the young men "iived in the house," that is to say they were herded in long catpet- less dormitories in certain sky-attics down .n alley off Queen Victoria-street,and the fare given them grudgingly, if wholesome, was the reverse of tempting or refined. By dint of great favoar with theprineipais, however, I was allowed to live out, and occupied cheap apart- ments in the Westmoreland-road, a lone, work- ing-class street built upon what once was known as Walworth Common. On the day in question, however, while I had been stacking a great pile of what we technically described as "stender women's black lisle," a well-dresael youns man uitered the daoartmant, addressed himself to the buyer, and was directed towards me. At first I took him for a customer, some retail draoer or other, but his greeting was a somewhat strange one. You are Mr liewerdine-George Hewerdine— I believe ?" he inquired. "lam," was my reply. I have called on bebaif of my firm, Messrs 'Stanley Brooks and Bateman, solicitors, of 18, Bedford How, to ask yon to accompany me to their office. Mr Brooks wishes to consult you at once. I hesitated I had no great love for solicitors, and my first impression was that perhaps a MtiaH debt of eight pounds which I owed had been put into their bands for collection. What does your principal want with me ?" I loquired. I can't leave business—yon know." Oh, but yon must," laughed the stranger. Mr Brooks has a piece of very good news lot you-il you are really the George Hewerdine we are searching for. The fact is, you i;e been left a very considerable sum of money." 1 stared at the man, wondering if he were try- ing to playa. practical joke. Come," he urged. Don't bother about yom business here any longer your business to-day ft at oar office." And so he took me off in a hansom to the din>t;j back room in Bedford-row, where, behind btsizt doors, the solicitor, a clean-shaven, smug ole gentleman of the old school, first questioned ou closely rergarding my dead parents and no place of birth, and then after a pause, said— If what you tell me is all true, Mr Hewer dine, I have to congratulate you very heartily Cur late client, your uncle, Colonel Joaepl llewerdine. of Twineham Hall, in Norfolk, ha: by his will bequeathed the whole of his estate t you, except a few small legacies to the servants "and an annuity of four hundred a year to hi confidentiaLsecretary, a Mr Thomas Norreys." Then do you mean that I shall be a ric man," I exclaimed, unable to utter any otbE words* 1 The estate brings ia, I believe, nearly te thousand annually," replied the lawyer in h hard matter-of-fact tone. And I daresay yon 1 heard that the historic old hall is a very bea; tifnl place, built by Sir Gregory Hawerdtne ) the days of Henry VIII and occupied for son time by Anne Boleyn. Have you ever VlSltj your uncle ?" he inquired, looking acrosa at me Never," was my aaawer. My late fath was not on good terms with him. He refose to give him assistance many years ago, at since that time they had never communicaK with each other." Then I suppose my late client regretted h treatment of his brother and therefore b queathed all to YOIl." Although 1 had never baen to Twineham, had nevertheless seen photographs of the 61 old Tudor mansion, which was one of the sho places of Norfolk and contained several ve notable and valuable pictures. One of the mag zines bad published an illustrated articls abo it a year before and I had cut it out and ke tt. It iP9i1i" Qf my wwta a* a geaecQus, mannered man, bat I had smiled when I recol lected that he had never .written me a line in his life, nor given me a single shilling. And now he had left me everything. I had suddenly become possessor of one of the 6 finest places in the Eastern counties. It really seemed too good to be true, and yet I sat there hearing from the dry-as-dust old lawyer's lipa the extent of my possessions, particulars of the two snug livings of which I was patron, and receiving from him some sound words of advice. If you so desire it, Mr Hewerdine." he said, we will act for yon as we have acted for the last forty years for your late uncle. I hope you will have sufficient confidence in us to entrust your interests in our hands. I see no necessity for you to return to the drapery business, for after what you have told me I feel perfectly satisfied that you are the George Hewerdine to whom the colonel, our late client, bequeathed j his estate, and the certificates are merely a matter of form. I .may, I think, now tell yon that your late nncle was well aware of your whereabouts, and had already told me where you were engaged in business. And," he added after a pause, I presume that a small advance, say a hundred pounds to meet your current i s necessities, will not be averse to you ?" E A hundred pounds. It was a greater sum I than I had hitherto possessed in all my life. I } gave him full authority to deal with my legal affairs and watched him sign the cheque which his clerk drew. Then I gave him a receipt, I 1 placed the cheque carefully in my pocket, and 1 left that dingy office a rich man. CHAPTER II. I t Describes What Occurred During a 1 v Shewer of Rain. E Along Bedford Row I walked like a. man in a 1 dream. I seemed to tread on air, for in my s pocket was a cheque for a. level hundred pounds v — more than my whole vear'b salary in the s drapery business—and I was, moreover, the J actual and undisputed possessor ol the comfort- ( able income of ten thousand a year. t Even then, ont in the grey cloudy afternoon j e it seemed unreal. I resolved to go down to t Twinekam, and see the place for myself,hear the t account of my uncle's death, and interview those v trusted servants of his to whom he had left x legacies. How I regretted that my poor father and my dear mother were not still alive to enjoy t with me the sweet fruits of affluence. And to i tell you the secret truth—for I have resolved t to make a clean breast of everything--1 bad at £ that moment on9 other and even gre&ter regret, r na,mely that a certain girl, whose cbarm and r beauty were, to me, alas, but a memory, had t been compelled by her parents to marry a young I stockbroker of Sydenham Hill in preference to < myself on account of my humble position and d consequent inability to support a wite. t Where was Lncie Cresswell, my own Lucie, E that pretty, dark-eyed, half-French girl, the j a daughter of a retired tradesman who had married 1 f a Parisian wife ? As I walked tbroagh those t grey, solemn streets of Bioomsbury, heedless at b the mJlDent of where my wandering footsteps c carried me, my thoughts were wholly of my v sweet lest love. I was recalling the past. b How well I recollected those long evening walks in Dulwich, Sydenham, and Hearne Hill—any- 1 j where, indeed, where there was left a scrap of | v rustic quiet in that great suburban Sahara of bricks and mortar. How distinctly I remembereju • 1 her fond love for me, her soft sweet kisses and > her words of tender love and affection. Some of those words had rung in my ears ever since- a through three long years of toil any regret. But she had married—against her ^til, I knew —and save for the fact that she lived with hei hnsband, j a conceited, over-dressed, you.ng cub, somewhere j in the riparian neighbourhood of Kingston-on- Thames, I knew no more of her. She had passed j q completely beyond my ken, and bad, in all pro- I bability, forgotten rre, i Ii She started back pala as death, open monthad, with a look of terror on her blanched countenance, The sweets of life always come to a man when it is too late for him to enjoy them. Success is ever mingled with regret,and fame with domestic misfortune. I found myself wealthy, and yet I the loss of my love prevented me from being wholly happy. My poverty had fallen as a bar between os, and yet the irony of fa.te had so I willed it that I should now be even richer than the overbearing, silk-hatted young cad to whom her parents had bartered her. Ah, I have heard it said that in these days romance is dead, yet I can aver that even in the bustling streets of the city hearts throb with jastas tender thoughts of the fair ones as in the good old days" of. wigs and natches. The city is to-day just as full of love, of fierce affections, and of keen dis- appointments as is the country," even though the former seeks a livelihood instead of foxes, and spends a fortnight at Margate instead of going north of Carlisle for the shooting. Yes, on that day when I received the unex- pected news of mv affluence I should have been perfectly happy bad it not been that I had lost for ever the pretty woman who had been so very dear to nae. When I remembered how often we had wandered through the grounds of the Crystal Palace and those artificially rural lanes around Sydenham and Dulwich hand in hand, child- ishly happy in each other's love, hot tears sprang to my eyes. I had lest her, therefore, after all, what mattered it to me if I were poor or wealthy. t Like, every other man in needy circumstances, I had longed for riches, but now that they had come to me I lound myself seized with a fresh ¡ desire, and therefore discontented. In this reflective mood I was wandering throngh I Bloomsbury on that grey November afternoon when, almost without warning, a sudden shower barst upon me. Having neither overcoat nor umbrella the downpoar recalled ma to a sensa of my surroundings, and I was compelled to rush for shelter into the nearest doorway. Where I was I did not exactly know. I had wandered on undecided how to act, whether to I return to Aidermanbury, inform my principles of my good fortune and take my honourable dis- charge, or whether, instead of appearing before ) them, I should simply refrain from returning, and thus be strcck off their roll of employes. .y ea. The bouse into the doorway of which I rushed was, I noticed, a good-sized, respectable-looking one, with a flight of well-cleaned steps leading to the front door, and a deep basement wherein sat a black cat in tranquil contemplation against the cellar door. The front was painted dark red,like many of the other houses in the vicinity, and almost opposite, a short distance to the left, I saw an angle of a high, black. gloomy-looking building behind iron rsilings. which I knew to be the British Museum. Than, aa I stood on the top of the steps, close to the door, I looked up and down, and presently realised that I must have unconsciously crossed r Red Lion Square, passed along Hart Street, and | was now in Montague-street, pro seeding towards Russell-square. 3 The rain came pelting down so fa?t that I had not time to seek aiiy other shelter save the shallow doorway of the house in question, and all I stood drawn back out of the wet I noticed that from the two dining-room windows pro- 1 jected old-fashioned glass-cases in which ferns 3 had once been grown, but which were no devoid 0 of greenery. There were no passers by, for all 1, I had, like myself, sought shelter where they 3 could. Yet passing and re-p&ssing was an in- cessant procession of cabs, for if you know h Bloomsburv you know that the thoroughfare in -r t question is part of the main artery of traffic from the Euston-road to Oxford-street, and n from the northern termini of London to the is stations of the southern railway. 'o I was standing patiently watching the torrent- n- ial downpour, which drqve in even to where I in stood when of a sadden there came lull in the 10 procession of cabs, and during that moment's 3d quiet a very strange thing happened. My eat a caught the sonna of quick hurried er footsteps approaching down the tiled hall to- ja wards the door outside which I was standing, id and then, ;u3t as I expected the person to open 3d it and come forth, 1 heard a sharp scuffle and the sound of a mpn's heavy breathing. Next iia instant a woman's shrill terrified cry broke the e- silence within. Ah no. No. spare him. Sapre him, for my I sake," I heard a female voice implore. But ue next fnatant it was followed by a blow, and a w- loud despairing cry rent the air-the cry of a ry woman horrified. I held my breath, wondering ;a- what was taking place. ut You—you infernal scroundiel—you shall p»3 ft for this," gasped a man in a hoarse, weak voice. I v. I tEWtea lhw; friend. She- that accursed woman—she has be- trayed me." ■ An instant later I heard the sound of heavy blows repeatej. The man who had spoken cried iloud for mercy, but his voice was broken, and af a sudden dead silence fell. Neither the man j aor the woman spoke again.. £ 11 was still. J My curiosity was now thoroughly arroused. It J bad all happened with startling suddeness. Something tragic had evidently occurred, but what it was I had no means of ascertaining. The ioor was a heavy double one. painted red, with [ orasa handles. 1 found the keyhole, but it was 1 patent latch, and the bole did not pierce the woodwork. Above the door was a fanlight :overed with old-fashioned scroll ironwork filled i with stained glass, and bearing ir white glass i etters the number 60a. I listened, my eager ears open tto catch every sound, bnt I could detect nothing, In expecta. .ion I stood waiting for somebody to emerge md make aocretenit, for if some drama of love )r hatred had really been enacted here, its principals would surely leave the house as soon is Dossible The unknown woman's agonised cry rang in my ears. Somehow, try how I would, I could not shut it out. The voice was that of a person, 1 poiing and educated, and I fancied that there I < iad been a slight foreign accent in it, but of < ;hat I could not be absolutely certain. I bad I seen too excited to take much notice of the in- j lexion of the voice. Hers was an exclamation )f pain and terror mingled. That she had tried 0 save the man was evident, and I entertained t deep conviction that she. too, had been dealt < 1 heavy blow which had silenced her. < The man who bad cried for mercy had been, mdeavouring to escape from the bouse without I t doubt. The hurried footsteps- had advanced I ;oward3 me—the quick, light tread of a man itriving to make good his exit in sccret wheD 1 t pursurer bad overtaken hi us. 1 L pnrgurer bad overtaken hiUJ. I A. woman bad betrayed him. He had rigorously denounced her—whoever she might 3e? I held my breath, waiting and wondering 1 shat might be the next development of the I nysterions afiair. For fully five minutes I re- named motionless, my ear pressed against the leavy door Should I touch the electric bell, or t ihould I call the first constable I met and ex- I plain what I bad overheard. So rapidly had it < ill happened, and so silent was the house of i nystery, that I found myself doubting whether, tfter all, it was net a mere chimera of my magination that some unusual sound within f lad become magnified into the evidence of a lavage assault. But no. Those wlid, terrified I words of the woman had been too clear and E ihrill. I heard them with my own ears, and 1 lad listened also to the man's denunciation of a < )ase betrayal. Something had happened, some- E ibing that was a mystery. The beavy door that i itood between myself and the truth was so s antalising that for some moments I stood itterly dumbfounded. I thought I caught E vords like the prattling of a child, but of that I J J vas not quite certain. t About the exterior of the house there was no- hing unusual as far as I could discern, save that t seemed, I thought, just a trifle more dingy j ) han the othres. The neighboniing houses had. >een freshly painted and the fronts re-pointeri iresumably to attract those in search of anp'Tt- I nents—for Montague-street is essentially a i horoughfare of lodging-honsee and private lotels. The glass window-boxes, I noticed, con- fined old fronds of ferns, brown and withered- E lead from neglect and want of water-while in be area below, where the cat had looked up at E as, were pieces of waste paper, wisps of straw < .nd an old shoe which gave mute evidence that or ooma weeks it had not been swept. The door, i 00, tore < mark near the letter-box of where a i irass plate had recently been removed. Very E autiously I opened the letter slit and peeied I ritbin. But aias, it was one of those with a tin E tox behind, therefore 1 conld see nothing. 1 ] Juat, however, as I held the brass flap open I 1 bought I beard a noise, and, being compelled to I I '?ait until a rumbling four-wheeler had paseed, ny ears distinguished most distinctly a move- nent within, the slight rustling of silk, aa though 1 6 woman were moving steathiiy. Next instant I heard a low groan, followed by 1, long deep-drawn sigh, but whether of a man or b woman I knew not. Only the tin box within leparated my eye and ear trom the liail wherin here had been such a curious happening, and ta I listened 1 heard some earnest whispering is well as a low tinkling, of what I know not. j Che tinkling as of a tiny bell was continuous I ] md even musical, but the words uttered were I 10 low that at first I could catch none of them. 1 It seemed as though two persons were discuss- ing something in secret, tud the only sentences I managed to catch were, Ah no. That would be unsafe—very unsafe. We must look to ourselves. His lips are closed, therefore the rest rewains entirely with us." v -1 And of bet ? She may tell the irutb. What do you intend doing ?" enquired the other in a. hushed voice. The reply was given in a tone so low that I Ic ould not hear it. I gathered, however, by the other'3 exclamation of wingled surprise and horror that the intention was a profoundly evil one. I now realised that my duty was to inform someone of the mysterious occurence within that house, for I had heard quite sufficient to convince me that something was very palpably wrong. And yet after all mysteries do not usually take place in London in broad daylight. The dramas of the Metropolis are mostly enacted in the night-time, when the perpetrators can slink away and escape under cover of darkness. On the face of it it seemed ridiculous to sup- pose that in tha.t highly-respectable loooking house in that respectable open thoroughfare and in the broad light of afternnon, anything very extraordinary could have happened. Yet 1 was fully convinced that I was on the verge of some rem.wkable and startling discovery, so carefully allowing the lettei-slit to close upon its spring I turned with the object of descending the steps and seeking the aid of the first constable I met. I I dashed across to the police man, wqo eyej me suspiciously. I As I turned, I became at that instant conscious I of two thing s first that the rain bad ceased as I suddenly as it had falJen, and, secondly, that .p atanding on the kerb at the opposite side of the way, a short distance up tho street, was a D wizened, decrepit, white-haired old man some- what shabbily dressed, wearing a silk bat that was faded and brown and a. short grey overcoat. I1 He held in his hand an old black kid glove, and my attention would not, I think, have been at- tracted by him were it not that iust as I turned and my eyes fell upon him I dected him in the act of making some frantic signs behind my back, apparently fn order to attract the atten- tion of someone in the house in question. ( This arroused my suspicion inatatnly. The in- > significant, hook-nosed, little old fellow was; in b some way or other, in association with the pei- eons within, and was evidently try ing to give warning to them of my presence. He was acting 7 sentinel outside the house. Wheu, however, he j saw me tarn to wards him, he dropped his hand Plko".iy g J ..r, cerned, and believing no doubt that I bad not I' discovered him. But at the same moment a still further mys- terious circumstance occurred, for there sud- denly appeared in the window of the dining-room the figure of a tall young woman, elegantly dresaed in an evening-gown of pale turquoise blue crepe de chine trimmed with lace and shim- mering silver sequins. The bodice was cut low, dsplaying chest and arms white as alabaster" while around her throat was a curious, heavy, antique ornament-a. collar of old sapphires ajid diatuonds-an unusual costume surely for half-■( past two in thm afternoon. I Her head was turned from me, for she seemed to be regarding the old man intently and yet surreptitiously. Her hand rested upon the win- dow sill, while her head and shoulders were lean- ing forward into the glass case of withered ferns, in order, it appeared, to obtain an uninterrupted j view up and down the street. Her soft, well-'j dressed hair was dark chestnut, I noticed, while the poise of her head was that of youth and j grace. She seemed to be eagerly watching the old man j in'the faded silk hat, while he, on his part, wa? J unable to make further sign to-her on account of my gaze being fixed upon him. His assumed in- ? difference evidently aroused her surprise, for in order to ascertain itsTreason she turned her bead, and then her eyes met mine not two yards a way from her. She started back pale as death, open-mouthed, with an indescribable look of terror upon her i blanched countenance-a countenance that I If cogniaed was one of the most regular and beauty fal that I had ever in my life gazed upon. She was not more than twenty-two. but that startled look of surprise and apprehension at that moment made her look at least forty. She was white to the very lips, for she instantly realised that I bad been 'standing there, and that J bad been listening ta everything. # My eyes were riveted upon the window, for I i hoped to obtain a second glance at her. But she 1 had apparently taken in the peril of her situa. tion at a glance, and had rushed from the room. Her great beauty held me rigid in wonder. ) Who was she ? Why did she wear a handsome [ evening gown in broad daylight ? Was it she who j bad sought mercy for the man who had tried to j bad sought mercy for the man who had tried to escape his enemies—or was she tha actual woman 1 who had been denounced by him a3 his betrayer? | Never in all my life had I seen such a wild, | ghastly look of terror and despair in anyone's j eyes as in hers when she had suddenly realised my presence never had I seen a woman whose face was so perfect in sweetness and in form, nor so inexpressibly beautiful as hers. For a. moment, although I was not impressionable where women were concerned, sight of it held me utterly stupefied. Those wonderfnl dark eyes fascinated me. In that instant I ¡:ell beneath their mystic spell. But assuredly that stealthy glance into the street, that expression of terror at discovery was plain evidence of a guilty conscience. That silent house wIn its red door held a grim secret—ona wbich I now determined to fathom. "Ind I but known the strange things bidden babind that closed door, and the fateful future which my curiosity was destined to bring upon me, perhaps I would have sought to curb my natural inquisitiveness, and have left the house with the secret in my heart. Bnt in ignorance of the magnitude of tha action I was taking, I sprang quickly down the steps and dashed along to Russell-square, where a constable stood by the red-painted pillar-box at the corner, eyeing me suspiciously as I rushed towards him. And the unconsidered step I took at that moment,-tha duty that I surely owed to my fellow-men-rwas responsible for all the strange- series of circumstances which afterwards hap- pened to me--a, mystery that win, I too) assured, surprise, anMLM and bewilder you, just as it did myself. Bear with me, and I will relate to you every- thing. (To be Continued.)
WALES AND REDISTRIBUTION,
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
WALES AND REDISTRIBUTION, Mr Herbert Lewis's Views. Mr Herbert Lewis, the member for Flint Boroughs, and selected Liberal candidate for Flintshire, speaking to a representative of the South WaloslDaily News with regard to the private intimation to Cardiff Conservatives of the Government's intention to introduce a Redis- tribution Bill next Session, said the news did not surpiise him in the least. Having regard to the small number of representatives allotted to Wales under the existing arrangement, and to the importance of the questions specially effecting the Principality which have to be consid- ered from time to time by tbelmperialParliament, it was of supreme moment that whatever al. location of seats might be made in Wales the total nnmoorof Welsh seats should not be reduced. It would be remembered that at the time of the previous Redistribution Act Wales was treated as a separate entity, and the Welsh membeta, under the leadership of Mr Henry Richard, succeeded in preventing any re- duction. of the Welsh representation. Since then the population has increased considerably, and we should ha.ve no difficulty in holding our own in this respect- As regarded the specific effect of a Redistribution Bill, he felt bound to urge that while dealing fully with queetions of popu- lation due regard ahoold, also be paid to existing administrative ar^tvs. It would, it, his judgment, be both unwise and unjust to alter existing county boundaries, for the purposes of Parlia- mentary elections. As regarded Flintshire, while some readjustment of the elsctorate might well be made, it would be unjust to take away a member from a county with so large an electorate, containing as it did a rapidly-increasing popula- tion. -———
GIRLS LEAP FROM A TRAIN.
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
GIRLS LEAP FROM A TRAIN. Annoyed by a Passenger. At the Guildhall, London, on Friday, William Thomas Price, of Hawthorne-road, Hornsey, was summoned at the instance of the Great Northern Railway Company for having on August 17th interfered with the comfort of other passengers in a carriage, The company's solicitor ex- plained that on the evening of the 17th two young women- Rose Martin and Emily Pate- man -toalc the 12.5 from Moorgate to High Barnett. When the train drew up at Aldersgate- street the defendant entered the compartment in which the girls were seated and put his hands upon their knees, They at once resisted such conduct, and movel to the further side of the car- riage. At the next station they got up to leave the carriage, but he caught hold of them, and said, No, you don't." Thinkmg that they were still standing at a station, the girls together pushed the defendant on one side, and jumped out of the carriage, falling unon the line. Their screams drew the attention of the guard, who put them in another carriage, and at the next station the defendant was interviewed. He was at the time under the influence of drink. Mr Alderman Smallman thought it was very lucky for tha de- fendant that he was not charged with a more serious offence. Unfortunately he was only empowered by the bye-laws to impose a penalty of 40s, which was totallv inadequate to meet such a ca3e as the piesent. He coulcl not conceive anything worse than the defendant's conduct. Theso young girls might havQ been killed by jumping on to the line. He (the alderman) could only impose the maximum penalty of 40s and £114;1 6d costs, or one mouth's imprisonment..
"'EAVE 'ARF A BRICK AT'IM."*'
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
"'EAVE 'ARF A BRICK AT'IM. Engine-driver's Escape at Cross Keys. Three small boys named William Henry Smith, Sam Beacbam, and Frederick Davey were bronght before the Newport county magistrates cn Satut- jay charged with throwing stones at an engine on the Great Western Railway at Cross Keys on the 19th August. Mr T. Baker Jones prosecuted on behalf of the company, and said that although the company were loth to prosecute littla boys like the defendants, they were bound to do so in the interests of their employees, and because other boys in the same neighbourhood had been guilty of a similar offence. Frederick Bateman, an engine-driver of a goods train, said one of the boys threw a stone which struck the engine within an inch of the eye-glass through which witness was looking at the time. He had previously dodged bis head because he saw one of the boys with half a brick in his hand. Witness pulled up his engine at the station, and the police were informed of the occurrence, P.C. Williams after- wards getting admissions from the defendants. The Banch ordered defendants to pay the costs of the Court,and to receive three strokes with the birch. The father of one of the defendants said his lad had fits, and he would not like to see him birched.-Alderman Goidaworthy: He might bave given the engine-driver fits.
IFORGING POSTAL ORDERS.
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
I FORGING POSTAL ORDERS. A Girl Charged. At Birmingham on Friday Elizabeth Agnes Louisa Mills, an invalid worker under the Girls' Friendly Society, was committed for trial for forging and uttering postal orders. Obtaining an order for an amount under lOa she carefally drew with Indian ink a figure 1 before the shil- ling and obliterated'with penny and halfpenny. stamps the amount of the as printed in words. By this means sho added 10s to the value ° of each order she dealt with, and when cashing 0 them signed false names. The fraud was A described as an ingenious, successful, and highly Ii remunerative one. b
.-..--- ^-I DISTRESSING SUICIDES.…
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
I DISTRESSING SUICIDES. 1 .— I Mr Henry Butler Clarke, aged 40, fellow of ( Trinity College, Cambridge, and son of the Rev. ) Heury Clarke, of Torqnay, was discovered with I his brains blown out in a conveyance in which he Was riding at Torquay on Saturday afternoon. } A double-barrelled gnn was found near. i t A prisoner in Worcester named DarbelJe, wbo wa-p-sentenced by tbe Brotnsgrove magistrates ou Friday to s^ven d»ya imprison- DarbelJe, wbo wa-p-sentenced by tbe Brotnsgrove magistrates on Friday to s^ven d»ya imprison- ) meat fot begging, cbnaiifftted suicide in Zns can ] t during Friday night by banging himself with a piece of cord, which he fastened to the catch of j j the window.
d OCTOGENARIAN'S FATAL FALL,…
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
d OCTOGENARIAN'S FATAL FALL, ] y Mr E. B. Reece, the district coroner, conducted J an inquiry at the Town Hall, Cardiff, on Satur- day concerning the death of Mary Foster (86), 1- who lived in lodgings at Stockton-street, Grange- in town. It appeared that on the afternoon of 1- Augaat 22nd deceased foil ontof bed and received ve a cut upon the forehead, and on the advice of 19 Dr, Rhys Jones she was conveyed to the Work. he house Infirmary, fc-here she died on the 8th inst. 3d The jury returned a verdict of Death as a ItltQU Qi in f»U. f
Y GOLOFN GYM REIG.
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
Y GOLOFN GYM REIG. Dymunir i'n gohebwyr Cymreig gyfeirio en go- hebiaethau, llyfrau i'w hadolygu, &c., fel y. canlyn: "Dafydd Morganwg, MorganwgHouse, Llantwit-street, Cardiff."
AT EIN GOHEBWYR.
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
AT EIN GOHEBWYR. M Gwthia yn Mlaen." —Telyneg dloa iawn t; diolch cynhes are dani. Y Pysgotwr," -Ymddengys y cyntaf. MaaV ilail yn wallns. Nid yw fachau" a *'fachgen" i yn cynghaneddu. j Gwg." .-Cyrchiad gwallus. Newidiwyd ef; fel yr ymddengys. ':1 Diwydrwydd." -Testyn campus, ac englyn- j ion llithrig. Moes etto. j "Arlwydd Tredegar."—Y mae ef yo haoddwl, gwneuthur 0 byn iddo. Diolch am' eich< con* } pliment, Yr Anffyddiwr."—Ymddengys. 1 u Y Cristion."—Mae'r gadwyn wedi erdoieni j yn iawn ond un Ilinell. Gallaeai'r imith alr syniadan fod vn well: ond fe ymddengys. Y Deigryn.Ruaid trwsio peth ar y llin-j ellau hyn—mae rma dipyn o lediaith a diofal- wch, -i Hen Emyn fv Mam "Ymddengys, 5, \{r
YR EUOG.
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
YR EUOG. A barn condemniad arno,—yr Euog J Ga'i ddirwyawl rwymo; Nodau erch ei enaid o Yw gwae, angen, a gwingo. Treforls.. Trefotfab,
-" YR WY. j
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
YR WY. j Eurog gell lie rnegir cyw—yw yr Wy, A'i rin yn ddigyfryw; | Rhodd rhad yr hardd iar ydyw, I A'i rodd rad vr harddiar yw. y, Ffynnon Coranau. Aeft.
ESGID.
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
ESGID. Dawn y crydd, un wadnog, gron,-yw Esgid, Gwisg ledr, liawn cywreinion Ein sail a'n llyw ydyw hon, Twr dianaf traed dynion, I Ffynnon Coranau. AIR. I
Y DADLEUWR. I
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
Y DADLEUWR. I Edliwio wna'r dadleuwr,- ei dafod i A. dyfa bob mwstwr; < Gwaedd er gwawd gyhoedda'r gwr, A beio'j wrthwynebwr. ] Barry Dock. p. D. {
HUNAN.
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
HUNAN. Diau hynod yw Hunan, Yn mbawb mae, ac yn mhob inan Ac ynof fi gwn ei fod, Dryllier fi gan ei drallod. Ar wyneb dae'r ni bu'r dyn, A, syndod, nid oes undyn Heb un ran o boen ei wres Oddifewn idd ei fynwes Ond Iesu, mwvn Dywysvdd, Ein Frynwr, Perffeitbiwr ffydd, Hunan fu yn y nef wen, A hwn ydoedd yn Eden; Ei wenwyn enyn wnaetb ef Angelion gwynlon gwiwnef I wrthod glan waaanaeth Yr enwog Ner 'r Hwn a'i gwnaeth. Yna lor a wnai yru ♦ Mewn d'ryswch i d'w'llwch da, 0 wynfyd dedwyddyd da Yr holl dorf, ie'r holl dyrfat Ow effaith eu gobaith gau, .1 Dyna hwynt mewn cadwynau I Drwy hyn aeth yn drnan wr, O do, cwympwyd y campwr J I A'i eppil eiddil heddyw Yn ddihoen dan boen yn byw; j Drwy'r pechod oer ddyrnod ddaetb I'n byd, ac anwybodaeth! Hunan ydyw penadur I Y dyn gwael, dyna ei gur I Hanes ei daith nos a dydd, Byw i hunan mae beunydd, Dyna'r oil, dyna'r altwedd I'w adfyd trwy fyd i fedd. Trwy hunan daelh trneni Bywyd anhardd i'n bydni. 0 na allwn yn holiol, Druan a. fl, droi'n fy ol; Rhoddi f'hun, rhyddau'f'enaidi Ymgodi o'r Hi' a'r llaid Gwylio am le gael im' Ian 0 sorod hynod hunan, Drwy lesu, dyna. drysor, Mwynbau sedd yn mynwes lor. William Morgan.. A
GWIRIONEDD
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
GWIRIONEDD (Baddugol.) Gwirionedd t dyma. deatyn c&n, "Xn llawri o awenyddpl aa.p; c Myrdd cryfach yw na thonaur algV Mwy digyfnewid yw na'i graig,— Fe chwelir hi gun ddwylaw dyn, A chleddir hi gaa ddaear gryn, Ond saif y Gwir heb deimlo cryd Yn ngwyneb holl grynfan y byd. Er nad yw'r gwir ar lawer pryd Yn caal ei ffordd gan ddynion byd, Mae fel y dwfr a greojd lor Yn mynu myned tua'r mor; I Os gorfydd droi am lawer bryn, Myn'd rhag ei flaen o hyd a fyn; Ni ddichon aur nac arian 'chwaith I Ei ddwyn i garcbar ar ei daith. Beth yw Gwirionedd ? Dyna yw- Y peth sy'n cadw'n geiriau'n fyw Mae'n gwneyd y cof fel nodwydd ddnc A'n geiriau fel y tynfaen pnr, Gan roi rhyw yni pur, di ball 1'r naill i dynu at y Hall Y wisg am frawddeg fer neu hir, Yw'r iaith, a'i bywyd yw y Gwir. Efe yw pur oleuad pwyll I cbwi lio ystafelloedd twyll; A bys y gau yn 'smotyn du A,welir trwy'i ddysgleirdeb ca j Ei wyneb siriol svdd mor glir, Nis gall fod diffyg ar y Gwir; Mae fel yr haui ar ganol dydd, Yn dangos pobpeth fel v bydd. Mao rhywbeth ynddo'n rhyfedd iawflf Mae fol v mor o hyd yn llawn; Er ei ddefnyddio nid yw'n llai» Ac nid oes ar ei lanw drai: Mae oil yn oil, niseeliir trwy Un ddyfais bysh ei wneyd yn fwy: Perffeithrwydd sydd yn rial ei dir Dan bob amgylchiad yw y Gwir, Y tyst cadarnaf yw mewn llys, Rbyddha ei ddeiliaid gyda brys; Mae'r Gyfraitb, er ei bod yn gref, Fel morwyn eiddil iddo ef Mae gan y gyfraith feibion lu Dry'r dn yn wyn a'r gwyn yn ddus Mae'n haws ysgaru r brvn a. r ddol Ny, throi Gwirionedd yn ei ol. Yr addysg oreu yn y byd I'w rhoi i'r plentyn yn y cryd Yw dysgu iddo wersi'r gwir, Fe bery'r rheiny'n hwy na hirs Y Gwir yw bywyd swynol gin, Mae yn ei phuro fel trwy dan; Efe yw ysbryd glan y barcld Sydd yn sancteiddio'i gelfwaith hardd. Mae'n codi ei fendigaid ben Ar faner Beirdd yr Ynys Wen Pa le ceir brawddeg mor ddigryd A'r eiddo, "Gwir yn erbyn byd ?", Mae'n cadw'r sedd yu bar a glan, Gan ranu Urddau meib y gan; Efe yw bywyd, nertb, a bri Ei holl ddetodau sanctaidd hi. Condemnia'r brenin mor ddigryd A'r dyn distadlaf yn y byd Ei holl elynion, or en grym A'u hamlder, chwala megys dim: Mab cariad yw, Fc athraw'r doeth, Mae'n rhoddi'r gwersi mwyaf coeth; Arweinyjd goraf dynol ryw, A drindod mawr uniondeb yw. 'Roedd ef yn nhragwyddoldeb mawr Cyn ystafellu daear Jawr; A dilys ei fod ef yn nglyn A'r frawddeg gyntaf ddysgodd dyn} Efe a geidw'r asgre lan, A'i cara ef mewn dwr a than; 'Does neb a. bia-ich yn ddigon hie I ysgar rhyngooi ni a'r Gwir. Mae'n beth o bwy3 ein bod yn byw I'r Gwir, j ffordd a'r bywyd yw; Efe fydd yn y farn a ddaw, Yn dal y glorian yn ei law All dim ond purdeb dal ei dit 0 fewn i glorian deg y Gwir; Y rhai lynasant wrtho ef, A etifeddant Deyrnaa Nef, John ThomaB.
ANNGHYMEDROLDEB.
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
ANNGHYMEDROLDEB. Anian, bob dydd, a wisga'r byd yn bardd, Heb gymhorth dyn, per ffrwytbau maes a ft j Ond afradlonrwydd gwyllt a. gwyd a ddaetl A chalon dyn i'r rhai'n yn wasarn aeth. Anngbymedrolder I Mwy dinysttriol yw Na chledd, na baint, i ddifa dynol ryw; Djbobli gwledydd cyfain hwn a wna, Yn Uawer cynt na'r newyn tost neu'r plat Peryglus iawn yw bias y cwrw rhudd, 0 fewn y rhwyd hwn mae ba.ch yn nghadd; Ystyrier, cyn rhoi gwydryn at y min, Fod angeu yn y gwirod poeth a'r gwin. Wrth foddio'r chwant ac anngbymedrol fyw 0 pes i oes, cyppyrchir gwanach rhyw I A*a cyrph yn llesgi hir ddydaiau ni fwyniittiiti Fel blodau haf yn ebrwydd gwywo wnant. Fel hyn, wrth deimlo natur yn llesgan, Rhaid cael rhyw wlybwr cryf 1 w cadarnhau, A tbrwy ffol gynghor rhyw goeg feddyg hyf, I'r cyJla. gwan traflyncir gwenwyn cryf. Ac wedi llvncu Uawer afiach drwyth. Mao natur llesg yn suddo dan y llwyth: Bffeithiau byn yn Mhrydain sydd yn lladd Dog mil o filoedd o bob rhvw a gradd. Dirwestiaeth deg, tro beibio'r plaan hyn Sy'n bygwth gwlad a thief a dystryw ayn; Dirmyged meddwon, doent a'u gwawdus iaitbj Dy welliant brofwyd a mwynheir dy waith. Ol lan Gymdeithas Dirwest, Ilwydded hon, A chwymped Bacchus ffiaidd ger ei bron; Troer meddwon ffwrdd, sobreiddier yfwyr gwin, Achadwec iencfrydfbag yr aaovtota blio-
FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. j ,...-.------
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. j The Inquisitive Pig. BY EDITH ROBARTS. This is a true story about a real little pig. He ought to have been a very contented, happy 'little pig, for he was well cared for and fed, and I lived in the beautiful country with his mother and brother and sisters. Tbey had a nice, cosy sty to sleep iu, and 0 good large field to rnn about in all day. Now. this little pig's name was Blackie, and j I am sorry to say he caused bis mother more j anxiety than all the others put together. He J bad a great fault, which grew greater as he be- came bigger and fatter. It was a fault that 1 people as well as pigs suffer from sometimes, and that generally leads them into trouble. I Blackie was a very, very inquisitive pig—al-) ways poking his nose iato all he could find. I daresay you have heard of pokenosed people I -well, Blackie was the most pokenosed little nig that ever lived. His mother often warned him j that if he would put hia nose into everything some day it would be caught in a trap and I snapped off entirely. Still Blackie did not heed, and he would root and root and root with his little black snout into all that came his way. I One day when they were 'all out in the field Blackie left the others as usual to go and rum- } mage round and pry into corners, and he came I upon a heap of rubbish. At once be began to poke his nose among it and throw it about, to find what was beneath. Awongst the litter was an old tin can, like those that hold condensed milk. It was a small can, but there was just room for Blackie to push his curious snout in- side. I Well, be sniffed and 6norted all round, and when he tried to get his noee out again be conldn't. Be shook and pushed, but nothing would free him indeed, the more be tried the tighter the tin becamewedged on his nose. Then Blackie grew sick with fear, and the cut edge of the tin hurt him very much. He ran crying round the field to his mother, but she could not help him. She grunted loudly in distress, bnt no oneibeard. and poor Blackie raced wildly about with fright, his brothers and sisters all gctzing in wonder and alarm at the sight of him. Yon cm imagine how funny he looked with the can on his nose. Some time passed, and DO ona came, and still poor Blackie's pain grew worse. They began to fear that he would grow faint, as sometimes the man who attended to them aid not return till evening, and, of course, Blackie could neither eat nor drink. While things were looking very sad indeed two girls happened to pass the field, and looked over at the pigs. Suddenly one caught sight of j Blackie, and was struck by his funny appear- ancs. When he ran nearer they saw what had 1 happened, and as tbey were very fond of all I animals tbey immediately felt that they must j get him out of his trouble. So they went to a 1 cottage near, and told the people who lived there j about Blackie's distress. The man got over the fence into tbe field, and tried to catch Blackie I and free him from his tormentor. i Bnt as soon as he attempted to go after him, the poor frightened piggie ran faster away, while j all his little brothers and sisters rushed squeak ing after him, so the man had to give it up. Then the girls inquired for the owner of the pigs, and the man told them they belonged to I people living a little way off—30 Blackie's friends walked to his master's house. As they passed I the stables they saw a groom, and called to him. The man Jooked very surprised, and bis surprise j 'became mixed with amusement as he listened to the sad condition Blackie's poke nose had led him into. He thanked the girls for telling him, and said be would go at once and put an end I to piggie's misery. lie went, by a back way, to the field, while Blackie's two friends walked along tbo road, anxious to sea what would happen. They watched the groom into the field. By this time poor Blacbie was even more mad with fear and nain, and he raced frantically away and- would not allow himself to be captured. So the groom bad to <*»«, him into the atv, and his mother. would not leave Kim* mad o il his brothers and sisters followed, the wboi« family were hustled in together. Once safely in the door was closed. Then, as the place was shut in, the girls could only wait, and hope that Blackie's distress wonlci soon be over. Presently, sounds of a scuffle reached them'; and then be. gan a fow squeaks. These squeaks grew and grew, till at la^t the air was rent with one teriffic shriek—then another. And his deliverers guessed that the tin was being taken off Blackie's poor little Buffering nose. A few minutes later the man came cut of the Sty, with the tin in his hand, and so Blackie was free at last. Still the girls waited, to see if he would come out, and if he seemed badly hurt. Then, one by one. the little pigs walked slowly out. all looking as if they had learnt a lesson in experience. Blackie was the last to come, and seemed sad and \ery thoughtful. No doubt his nose was very sore, but I am sura he was a much wiser little pig. He crept to his mother's side, and lay down by her for comfort. And she grunted quite gentiy in sympathy andin mild re- proach. Then the girls felt that Blackie was safe, and so went on ther wav rejoicing. That is the true story of the trouble a small pokenoscd pig once got into. And no doubt there are even sadder stories of worse trouble caused by a." poke-nose." We can only hope that all will get out of it as well as poor Blackie, and that all will learn, as he did. not to put their noses into things that do not concern them.
CARDIFF RAILWAYMEN.
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
CARDIFF RAILWAYMEN. tc A.S.R.S. DELEGATE AND THE T.V.R. Si A meeting of Cardiff raiJwaymen was held at hi the Glanstone Hall, Cardiff, on Sunday morn- tl ing. It was convened chiefly to hear a. report with reference to his leave of absence from Mr it George Beaclon. who bad been deputed by the li South Wales branch of the Amalgamated Society si of Railway Servants to represent them at a tf meeting of the Executive Committee con- nected with the parent society, held at London, b The following is the official report of the meet- n in2 d Mr Beadon reported having written to Mr Harland, traffic superintendent under the Taff f( Vale Railway Company, and Mr Beasley, the tl company's general manager, applying for a leave of absence in the usual way. The manager re- plied intimating to Mr Beadon that be could not w be granted his request in consequence of his hav- ing already had the orthodox number of days given by way of leave during the year. g The meeting deplored the refusal of the manager to comply with the request, as it affected the whole of the railwaymen of South ti Wales, Mr Beadon being the men's represents- e tive on the Executive Committee of the A.S.R.S. The terms of Mr Beasley's letter'were strictly courteous, and this fact was favourably com- t mented upon by the meeting, and the belief was k expressed that if a letter, signed by 15 or 20 men, s were forwarded to Mr Beasley, asking him to a reconsider his decision—having regard to the fact e that th6 business which called Mr Beadon away < was not of a personal nature, but that which affected the men generally—it would serve the desired end. After considerable disrnssion this course was eventually decided upon, and the letter will be sent to Mr Beasley on Monday j morning, g
WALKED OFF THE WAVERLEY. '
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
WALKED OFF THE WAVERLEY. 1 Exciting Incidents at Cardiff. Exciting incidents were witnessed at the Cardiff Pier Head on Saturday night during the J landing of Weston trippers from Messrs Camp- bell's passenger steamer Waverley. Immediately aftox the vessel had berthed on the further side II of the west pontoon some of the passengers seem 1 to have attempted to cross from the sponson to I the'ianding stage, but in doing so a young Cardiff woman, hailing from Canton, fell into the 'vater. I Mr David Guy, one of Messrs Campbell's employees, plnckily jumped into the sea after her, and with the aid of one of the Ship's ropes she was brought safely ashore, apparently little the worse for her immersion. The incident created considerable excitement among the pas- sengers, and before the woman had been brought ashore another passenger standing on the edge of the pontoon was accidentally pushed into the water by the crowd. The gep between the snonson and the pontoon was very narrow, rendering assistance difficult, but boldiqg the ship's rope the man kept himself above water, and was afterwards hauled out by the ship's crew. Mr Gny. who a3sisted in the rescue of the man as wet! as the woman, deserves praise for his gallant conduct.
BELATED CARDIFF CYCLISTS.
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
BELATED CARDIFF CYCLISTS. At Newport County Police Coart on Saturday Beatrice Eaton and Samuel Stephens were summoned for; riding bicycles without lights in the parish of Duffryn on Sunday night, the 4tb inJt. P.C Bevan said the defendants were riding together, and when he stopped them at abo ut a quarter to nine tbey- said they had come from Canton and bad ex- pected to get to Newport earlier, but the young lady had bad a, puncture. Defendants were ordered to pay the costs, 4s 6d each. Two young fellows named Ernest Da'/ies and James Wilkins, summoned for a like offence at Penhow, were said to have given wrong names and addresses to the constable who detected >3 them, and as a consequence caused the police un- necessary troobie. They were fined lOs each in. „ ceding cQBts. I --1":
n. ..:¡ \
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
n. .¡ l' Why are curds like the opposite house 1-131 cause they are over the whey. Will nothing induce you to change so"'5 mind and marry ?" he asked. Another ffl* might," she replied. Let me see," Baid a young giri reading society news. What is the meaning of mesa* liance ?" "Marriage,"replied her father. Actor I have a war aa wall as a bistrion^ record. I was nearly killed once by the burstifl? of a shell.—Manager Who threw the egg. The Painter I suppose he is married to AtOl too ?-His Subject: Yes. Art must have a 900a many more husbands than she can possibly fl'P* port. Woe unto them that put bitter for sweet an^ sweet for bitter," said the prophet, and a coo* paraphrased it, Woe unto them that put bntte* for suet andsuet for butter." A facetious gentleman tells the story of a who told her hnsband that the cat had eaten thfl pie that she had baked for him. Never mfndc my dear," replied the husband, I will get Y100 another cat." Old Gent (pointing to a lanky youth side in the tramcar): How much for this boy~^ half fare, I suppose?—Guard: Well, no. p.1' looks as if he were kept on half fare at hornets needs a change. Full fare, please. Do you believe in picking up horseshoes ? £ Well, I must admit I have picked up only °nf»| and that was lying outside a blacksmith's shop- | What did you do with it ?" I dropped it mediately," Ah. Why ?" Because it WO' red hot." A well-known Judge was standing at the doo^ i of a ballrooom when a gvery beautiful nassed him. What a lovely woman," said tbe" Judge, but so loud that the lady overheard '"< Turning her head she recognised the speaker. And what a good judge," she said. Sweet Harmony.—A Highland piper who h»^| been oot in the '45 was fond of relating.40 • bis friends some of his experiences and exploit this among others: There wass ae nicht bet; nainsel'had a gran' plaw in Mrs Gless'a w* sconce in ths Coo-gate of Edinbruff. There wfl3? nineteen pipers besides her nainsel' we V played at the same time, an' we a' ptayc" different tvins, an' I jist thocht I wass floatio tae Heeven on the hermony 1" Fine Weather an Advantage in Warfare.—Oo Jyly market day in a Dorset town a small c of farmers and their wives were reading the < news on a contents bill of one of the local ne(^ papers. An old lady, anxious to know the of their interest, questioned a bystande*. They're only reading the war neW3," he Be there a war on, then 1" was the next qne^J; Yes' the Japs is fighting the Russians." Db, she exclaimet", with a long-drawn sigh of de?^ thought, well, they've got a fine day for i' anyhow." Sublime Innocence.—Sir Henry Howorth. whet) is so well known to so many in different \va:V9, but in none perhaps better than as a converS*^] tionalist, was dining out one evening soon af' the publication of his book on Mongols," found himself sittinsr next to a young lady, attacked him by saying, Oh, Sir Henry, I ? 'J so glad to have met you, for I want your adv,cJj,; about a dog of mine." My dear young lady>? said Sir Henry, I know nothing about dog51 Oh, yes yen do « I have been told that havo written a book on Mongrels,' and (fl1'1 isn't really a well-bred dog I" Elaborate Prevarication. This is how the editor of a paper in China, declines a manuscriptIllustriOr^ brother of the aun and moon Look upon 1 m slave who rolls at thy feet, who kisses the before thee, and demands of thy charity PS" mission to speak and live. We have read manuscripts with delight. By the bones ot° ancestors we swear that never before have W0 countered such a masterpiece. Should we it, his Majesty the Emperor would order take it as a criterion and never again print tbing which was not equal to it. As that not be possible before ten thousand year^'j-g trembling we return thy manuscript and0^- thee ten thousand pardons. See—my head thy feet and I am the slave of thy The art of lying is not fogotten in the I Limit of Laziness. ot^ 1 Two darkies lay sprawled on the levee on ) day. Moses drew a long sigh and aaijd. Seey ,1 /i h-h Ah wish Ah had a hundie^ i* T> i Tom's eyes lighted' J »wld suttenly be An ef >0 uad a hair «ib aae illty r J. "Ho. woiTrnTc gib yo'no fifty v}»r\A me] liens." IM Wouldn't yo' gib me twenty-five ?" „ LNO. Ah wouldn't gib vo' no twenty^ifvfl-gj,* Seems ter me youye powahful stingy, ? Wouldn t yo' —wouldn't yo' gib me ona ?" h.j "No. Ah wouldn't gib yo'one. Look a niggab, are yo' so good-fer-nufEn lazy da*' | cahn't wish fo' yo' own watermellions ?" i Woman as a Financier. j I have heard it said," remarked the lawful that women are not good financiers, but Generally speaking, that is true," rupted the banker, "but there are except'0 tj'- The average woman is a nuisance the moment undertakes to fool with figures, and I confe3:p\ hato to see one come into the bank. The confidence with which she suggests that V0 verse our usual methods of doing refreshing, but annoying if too often repea*8^ She expects everything to be shifted aroo"^ v' order tq make it a trifle more convenient for b As a financier I must confess that she jA Beats all creation," put in the You may not agree with me," he added, it's so. A little of her cool assurance is Jp all a man's superior knowledge of values financial methods." ,¡ It's evident that you've never beena nected with a bank," said the banker. Bui I'm married," retorted the lawyer, Ab, I might have known that we were to a scrap of domestic history," returned banker, I will admit that the 0 domestic economy, as practised by W0IPe?g^ beyond all the rules of finance. But let's P thestory." ol 1 found myself dead broke at home one Oll t ing, and 1 needed a little change;" explained lawyer. I askei my wife for five dollars. she immediately wanted to know what she to get out of it." M Good business instinct, commented banker. She realised that she had tha 100 market temporarily cornered. Very cleveii deed, for a woman." I told her I'd bring ber home 25 dolla*3, following night if she'd let me have fivedO* |J(< that evening," continued the lawyer, af" was delighted." Naturally," returned the banker. The was usurious." ■i&fii I need 25 dollars so mucb,' she excla'^OTl and I've been wondering how I was goi°^, get it. Be sure you don't forget to bring it b" 1 won't,' I said. Where's the V ?' II ( Tile V. she exclaimed. 'Oh, I'l'Jj^ that to you out of the 25 dollars if you're^ r. enough to take it. I haven't a cent, now.' j Well ? said the banker inquiringly. Oh, you're married, and don't need to the story finished," returned the lawyer. know very well that she got the 25 dollara, got eternally and everlastingly left m the action, as a man almost invariably does enters into financial negotiations with his f -=--
COLLIERY ACCIDENTS.,
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
COLLIERY ACCIDENTS. Philip Thomas (19), a young collier .damsdown-sqnare, Cardiff, sustained u\dL jvere injuries through a fall of coftl I ccurred while he was working at a Llanbr it on Saturday. W7hen conveyed to tbe^tj nfirmary during the afternoon it was fon& ( esides a number of cuts and bruises all o6y he had fractured the bridge of bis D°T(glf £ rushed his toes very badly. FoitoO JfdP ■> owever, none of the injuries wereof haracter, though he will, more or leas, ^J" j gured for life. On Sunday he was repot e progressing favourably. While assisting aome of his men in t0"( tram, which had rnn off the J, Jmversal Colliery, Senghsnydd, on ay, David Thomas, an overman, fract oJ} t"5 high through the slipping of the vehicle QtfP f him. He also waa conveyed to tbe nfirmary, where he is at present detained.
PATHETIC SURGERY SCENE AT.…
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
PATHETIC SURGERY SCENE AT LAND0RE. J An inquest was held at Landore polIce It )n Saturday afternoon on the body of John 26), who was drawn into the rolls at tp iiaun Works and killed. John nan, said deceased was apparently to ^is Sap to water a new pair of rolls ap t° Janght, and his arm was draW° e bt.w, shoulder. It was five minutes ^ijed released. Dr. Price said dece»sed. tiP" shock. Some of his ribs were fcr° A0ctoP ,jr lungs and liver crushed. He t».at marked to someone at the surgery p10* was a hopeless one. and deceased, w eSCl»' be conscious, OVer-beard him, an <> A°Cuain Oh, don't say that." A yerd,°t °f nu tal death" "was returned, 0nfo** attributed to anyone for tb occurrence.
FRENCHMAN'S FATAL S
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
FRENCHMAN'S FATAL S At Bexhill on Friday a ^caJaf.^> named Pierre De Sacre, son of th V Sacre, was swimming off Gouis £ when he suddenly threw up his-a jj0° & peared. Several boats put out, b not recovered until an hour je0P'j tors unsuccessfully tried artin Ar Deceased is supposed to have be cramp. His mother is in W incepfad tQ letusn wst .we_At. i Jl