The Cardiff Times

EXCITING FIRE SCENES. Eazl-v on Sunday morning a fierce fire broke out in Market-street, Manchester, on premises occupied by various firms, one floor of which is used by the Colonial Club and as the head- quarters of the Manchester Legion of Frontiers- men. Several men in the club were taken by surprise, and some had narrow escapes, one being rescued by firemen when hanging, from a window-cill on the second floor. One of the party, a Parsee medical man, fell three storeys through the glass roof of a cafe, and sustained serious injuries. Three others were treated in the hospital, but not detained.

FIRE ON A STEAMER AT NEWPORT. § On Sunday the Newport Fire Brigade were called to the Ebbw Vale Wharf, where fe fire had broken out in the bunkers of the ss. Dunsley, owned by Messrs M. Thomas and Son, Cardiff, and which was discharging a cargo of iron ore. The outbreak was due, it is believed, to spontaneous combustion. After 0 rl some two hours' work the brigade extinguished the fire. The damage was only small.

SUICIDE AT FOURTEEN. A verdict of Suicide while temporarily in- sane," was returned by a Coroner's jury at Ealing on Saturday in the case of the 14-year- old butcher's boy named Albert Carter, who hanged himself at his stepfather's house at Murray-road, South Ealing. The boy had been sent to his bedroom as punishment for disobedience, and committed the act after watching his stepfather leave the house. It was stated that he had been reading books of the penny dreadful type, and a few days before his death was found reading a report of the suicide of a boy of his own age. His father had died in an asylum, and the Coroner said no doubt this hereditary taint had ren- dered his mind unstable.

THOUGHT HUSBAND DEAD. At Pontefract on Saturday Eliza Ball, of Hemsworth, summoned her husband forf23 maintenance arrears. The complainant said the defendant left her in 1897. She never heard of him afterwards, and as she was told a John Ball had been found drowned near York she thought it was her husband, and she married again last January. Her second husband was accidentally killed a month ago, and then the defendant turned up. The' defendant now wanted his wife to be prosecuted for bigamy, but she said she honestly believed him dead. She married a second time because she wanted a home, which the defendant had never pro- vided for her. The Chairman said that this order remained in force until rescinded. The defendant must be imprisoned for 14 days, fail- J ing the immediate payment of the JE23.

When arrested on a charge of burglary at the Circus, Greenwich, Herbert Titlow's iodg ings were searched, and according to the evi dence given at Greenwich Police Court on Saturday a detective found some pepper and the neck of a cruet bottle in his bag. This, said the officer, gave the clue to another burglary at Grove Park, Camberwell, from which place a cruet had been stolen. You seem to know all about it," prisoner is alleged to have said to the detective. Prisoner was committed for 1. ,0.-

The Dead Bride. By KATHERINE TYNAN. Author of the Dear Irish Girl," The Ad- ventures of Alicia," My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose," &c., &c. It was after the afiair at Utrecht when I,had been left for dead on the field: and when I came to myself, I had not known for a while in that grey and ghostly light whether I lived or died. At first I remembered nothing then I had the wit to push the sheet from my face. I lay on a stone bench under a. low ceiling of vaulted stone. The light came in somewhere at the sides, and I heard a bird singing. The air blew in my face, wet air, that reminded me of the river at home, and the little streams that swelled it from the hill-sides. At first as I lay with my eyes closed, I was a boy at home. It was a day of heat, and I was climbing the path to the hill, through glens where the stream widened, and the air was full of the refreshment of sweet water. Slowly, slowly the light grew greater, and pre- sently 1 seemed to waken, and to desire to know where I was. I lifted myself on my elbow won- dering at my own weakness, for I was scarcely able to do so much. Then I shrank back over- whelmed with what I had seen. My bench was one of some half-dozen others, and each had its occupant. I had seen in that glimpse the long, straight forms that lay be- neath the sheets, with the strange angularity of the knees, the stiff upstanding feet. Their faces were hidden by the sheets, but I did not need to see them to know that they were the faces of dead men. I For a moment I all but lost my senses, having the,fear that I was buried alive. But there came the sound most welcome of all sounds in the world to me at that moment, the sound of spurred feet on a flagged passage, coming nearer and nearer. Then a shadow fell beween me and the light. I had had a horrid fear test I should faint and waken again to that sight, or perhaps be in the grave before I should waken, and I struggled violently against the unconsciousness that was coming upon me. Someone stooped over me, and I heard a sound Kke the catching of a breath, and that was the end of it so far as my knowledge was concerned at that time. My next coming to myself was better, al- though it was in a hospital ward, and e sick and dying were all about me. The window first came into my vision, and then a man's head dark against it, a shaggy head I thought I knew. It was surely Andrew Auchterlony, the surgeon of the Scottish Regiment, he who had the reputation of having the roughest tongue and the softest heart among his brethren and rough tongues were common enough among them as well as kind hearts. I have heard one excuse himself by saying that a man had need to relieve himself with strong speaking or break his heart when half the wounds in the hospital were gangrened and the, rest like to be the same and nothing to be had to relieve the poor wretches. I listened to him talking to someone, for a while before I again opened my eyes and looked at him; and I remember that he left off sharply and asked me how long I had been awake, in the gruff voice which did not deceive me. Twas you who found me among the dead men," said I. "I never was so glad as when I heard your spurs upon the flags." "Aye," said he. I gave word that you were to be watehed, and I looked in at you myself now and again. You had too much colour for a dead man, though we couldn't find a beat of your heart. This will be good news for your uncle Sir Archie." He has not heard I was dead ? I asked in quick alarm and it was not only of Sir Archi- bald Clavering I thought, but of the late Lady Clavering's niece, Jessica, with eyes browner than mountain pools, and the steadfast, pure, face beautiful under its banded hair. There were many deaths after Utrecht, he said, and your name was in the list. Why, you were dead, man, although I wouldn t let them bury you. If they have nearly diad of the grief they will be all the gladder of the joy. You are out of this campaign, and I shall patch you up as soon as I can, and you shall go home to them. Indeed, the sooner you are out of this place the better. It is no place for the living." He had me out of it as soon as he dared move me because of my wound, and I was nursed back to health slowly in a quiet, green- shuttered house within a garden, by a kind Dutch Vrouw. I was slow to rnend because of my anxiety to be gone home, and to comfort them, the two who leant on me for all of joy their world held. I had written and before I could hold a pen Andrew Auchterlony had promised to do as much for me but one never knew in those wild times when a letter would reach its destination, or if it would reach it at all. 'Twill be the greater jov," said Dr. Auchterlony when he promised to find me a berth in a ship as soon as I was fit to travel. But the inaction was intolerable since he had confessed to me that he had not written to con- tradict the report of my death, because it was uncertain for a time whether my wound would not mortify as happened with so many and 1 believe I was only saved from that fate by his having persuaded the Vouw, whom he has since married, to take me in and nurse me. So at last I took French leave and slipped away without consulting him, having arranged pri- vately with a captain to convey me to the Essex coast. I knew I was a very poor creature, and only fit to be carried in a litter when I landed at Harwich beach and the kind people at the inn would have kept me if I had not been so pas- sionately determined to push on. I was like a ghost as I saw myself in the green, spotted mirror above the fireplace in the inn-parlour while I waited, fretting, for the chaise to come round. I had a hundred miles and more to travel be- fore I should come to my uncle's house of Weston, but I was determined not to sleep before I should reach for the greatest im- patiencw come upon me. as though I dreaded e fearful calamity which could only be avoided by my presence. The chaise went at a good pace and we were to have relays of horses along the road. I wished I could have ridden, but that was not possible in my weak state and J fumed and fretted for all I could do to control myself, till I was like enough to present a sorry image of comfort to them at home. I urged the driver, and he urged his horses. He did not complain of the fatigue to himself, for I had promised him a golden guinea if Re could accomplish the journey in as little as might be over twelve hours. And he did accomplish it in fourteen, which was good going, seemg that we had to change horses and to eat, or pretend to eat. for it was no more than pretence so far as I was concerned. We arrived at the gates of Weston as the clock of Weston Church struck ten. And now I was glad of the darkness that covered our arrival, for. supposing that they had not heard I lived I was not minded that I should frighten them out of their lives. So I sent the chaise and its driver to the Weston Arms for the night, and myself approached the house on foot, slowly because of my weakness and fatigue, softly so that they should not know before there was time to prepare them. In front Weston Manor was all in darkness, the ivy in which it was clad making it stand out a great ragged pile a gainst the moon. I kept out of the moon's way and stole round the house into the rose garden, where Jessica and 1 had first spoken of love. My uncle's study looked over the maze of tangled sweets. It had not been so neatly kept since Aunt Margaret had died, although it was still beautiful. In the moon now it seemed all one great rose-bush and the scent of it was very sweet. The terrace below the windows was dark ex- cept where one lighted square fell upon it from the window of my uncle's room. In Lady Clavering' s lifetime he had chosen the room because he could sit at his writing and now and again glance down where she moved among her roses. After her death he still kept the room. and would not have the garden below disturbed by gardeners while he sat there in communion with her he loved. Wherefore since the gardeners could only work in his absence the place had become overgrown and neglected. I stole along the terrace like a thief, hoping the dogs would not get wind of me. As I raised myself cautiously to the sill Something small and soft hurled itself through the lattice, which stood open. and fell upon me in an inarticulate rapture. It was Jessica's little Skye terrier, Trusty and when I had lifted the little creature in my arms and held him to me he lay licking my hand and whimpering for joy but other- wise he made no sound. He might have been noisy and not disturbed my uncle, who sat in his chair with his grey head fallen upon the table in an attitude of utter abandonment. At first I thought he was asleep, but as I stood watching him, while a cold feeling of calamity clutched at my heart, he raised his head and sighed most unhappily, a sigh as though there were more burden upon his poor old heart than he could carry. Where was Jessica ? I asked myself, Jessica, who had ever been more tender to him than a daughter in his widowed age. It was not like Jessica to leave him to his desolation alone. Where was she ? With the question I seemed to know every- thing and to lose sense of everything except that she was dead, The room had an untidy, uncared-for look. which she had loved to keep in order. And the old head lying there* among he tossed papers, Why, she might be-unhappy I'n Heaven thinking how she had left him and ne—and me. I forgot everything, and drew myself heavily up by the window-sill over which I used to vault so lightly. I need not have feared to frighten him. Plainly he had gone past fear. Why, Frank," he said. Frank 1 You Have come back to a sad house. Only yesterday I heard you lived. A week ago it might have saved her for you and me." It seemed that I had known always that she was dead, I put my arm round the poor old man who had been tender as a father to me, and tried to comfort him. knowing that there was no comfort in the world possible to me and presently he came out of his trance of de- spair to remember, after his kind and gentle fashion, that I was a sick man and a traveller, and needed food and wine and rest. So he would have me sit in his own seat while he called the servants, and food was brought to me which I could not cat, and wine of which I drank little, yet it revived me so that I could suffer more keenly and hear what there was to bell. She had fretted from the time she heard the false news of my death had grown thin and hollow-eyed, while she strove to be cheerful for the sake of the old man. And then her illness had suddenly became worse. She had been in a fever for two days, during which she had talked to me incessantly, believing me present and in the third night she had died. The funeral was to-day," he said, "and she wano sooner laid to rest than we had yonr message that you lived. I did not know how I was to tell you, my poor boy. She sleeps in the dress she embroidered for her wedding, and there was never a lovelier bride. She smiled as she lay in her coffin and the rose yet kept its place in her cheeks. I wish you might have seen her, how sweet she was," I slept that night because I was wornout, and when I slept I dreamt that I was again in the hospital at Utrecht. Again I saw the glim- mering square of the window,againstit Andrew Auchterlony's shaggy head. I heard what he was saying, the things which till my dreams I never knew I had heard. By some strange trick my msmory had seized them and held them unknown to me, to give them back to me in a dream. But for me," he had said, Sir Archibald Clavering would lack an heir now and Weston Manor a master. I would not have him buried till the signs of death were beyond doubt. Yet many a fine fellow and many a fine lady have been lain underground with less signs of death than he showed. I had applied all the tests. There was no pulse, no heart-beat, no breath. Yet you see 'twas but a cataleptic trance, as I believed it was. There was but one sign infallible The voice droned and died Off and I could make nothing of it. I seemed to be falling down, down, on soft beds of slumber, acd my limbs were possessed by a delicious langour. I was fast falling to sleep when suddenly a cry rang in my dreams which would have awakened me if I slept the everlasting slumber. It was Jessica's voice. Frank, save me, save me, be- fore it is too late." I was up in an instant, broad awake and understanding. I had no more doubt that the voice had called me and that it was no dream thau I had of my own being. It was night-black still, and the twigs of the sycamore tapped against the pane, like im- patient little fingers that craved an entry. And I remembered how Jessica had worn the roses in her check although she was dead. I did not strike a light, I was too impatient to be gone for that and my hands shook as I dressed myself hastily. It was not above three minutes from the time I awoke till I was taking down the house-bolts from the hall-door. Luckily I knew where a lantern was to be found, in a closet off the hall where it was kept for giving light on dark winter evenings when friends were leaving the Manor or any of us had business that took us abroad. There was flint too and touchwood and it was not long, although too lohg for my anguish of impatience, before I had kindled a light. I knew where I should find tools if I needed them in the hollow oak in the churchyard to which the sexton had put a door. Oddly enough I never thought of asking any- one to go with me. Perhaps I had an idea that they might think me mad, and try to detain me by force. So it was that I stole out like a thief in the night to the rescue of mv love. Luckily-it was not far to the churchyard, which lay within the park walls of Weston, in a Secluded grove; and that was lucky for me, lest perhaps I might have been discovered by the villagers and suspected of the desecration of graves for the purposes of robbery, for such things had been known, especially since the wars had made so many despairing and desti- tute, so that they lived how they could, and some of them would prey on the dead as well as the quick. Nor if they had found me would they have waited to discover who I was, so that a blow from a peasant's spade might have completed what was begun at Utrecht. However, the little churchyard was quiet amid its yews and cypresses, the great vault of the Claverings towering in the light of the moon which had risen just above the small graves of the peasants. The gate was not locked but I knew when I came to the vault that I should find the iron gate closed against me. Of the lock I would make short work with the sexton's hammer, and then there were but the scews of the coffin to release till I should look upon her face. When the thought came to me that she might already have come to life I was like a madman. I shattered the lock with a blow of the ham- mer and flung back the gates of floriated iron- work, which some say wer$the work of Quin- tin Matsys himself. I was grateful for the vault that they had not laid her in the earth. Ah! there was her coffin, the pall of purple upon it, laid on the svone table in the cen- tre of the vault as the new-comer is left to lie, according to our custom, a year and a day. I was not long in flinging the pall aside. Close by the entrance of the vault a night-bird hooted. Something pressed against my feet and whimpered, and I knew without looking that it must be her little dog that had followed me. And so it was. I set my teeth as 1 unscrewed the coffin lid. Then I lifted the lantern in one hand while I flung back the lid with the other. I dieaded what I might see. Suppose she had awakened before I could come and save her! But there was nothing, nothing, only a vision of beauty such as angels in heaven might pause to gaze upon. She had not yet waked. Her face had the sweetest peace, the sweetest joy upon it, where it lay bet,ween the bands of dark hair, the bridal veil framing it around, the bridal blossoms above it. Her hands were folded. over her heart; the train of her satin gown was laid across her feet. She was so tender and so beautiful that if she had been dead it would have killed me to see her. But I knew she was not dead. While I looked at her a sudden agony shook me to think of her in that place of the dead. All at once I was conscious of the damp and mouldering atmosphere and the dim shapes of the coffins in their niches. What had she to do with these, whom God had made beautiful for life. for love 1 I lifted her in my arms and taking her out into the blessed air I laid her on the grass while I hid as well as might be the traces of my visit. Her little dog was licking at her hand when I left her, and when I came blck he was lying contentedly on at fold of her gown as often he had done before. I said to myself that I and the wise beast alone out of all the world knew that she was not dead. I carried her in her bridal finery by the light of the moon through the dark avenue to the house. She was heavy in my arms and her sweet cheek against my cheek was as cold as the dead yet I knew she was not dead. Why if she were dead I should be dead too or mad. Though all the world should tell me she was dead I should have known she was living. The house was quiet as I had left it, Not a creature stirred. I made the house-door fast as I had found it, and I carried Jessica upstairs to my room. I was not going to run the risk of their saying I was mad and returning her to that charnel-house. I was going to watch her as Andrew Auchterlony had watched me till she should awake. I laid her on my bed with the pillows under her head, and smoothed down her satin dress. There was nothing to do till she could come out of her cataleptic sleep. I opened the windows so that she should have air to breathe, and then I sat by her watching her, and making my plans so that no one should enter my room but my- self. I prayed as 1 had never prayed before that I might keep well, for already my wound ached and emarted and I felt the fever in my veins. Supposing I were to fall ill, and they to come and find her! Why they might think that I had snatched her from the grave in a madman's im- pulse, and return her there while I lay helpless. When morning came I locked the door upon her and went downstairs. Never had I longed in all mv life for anyone as I longed for Andrew Auchterlony now. If only there had not been those miles of sea and land between us. We sat at breakfast, my uncle and I. making but a poor pretence of eating food. My mind was working, working hard, grinding upon it- self like the stones of the quern when the corn runs low between them. I did not dare have a doctor to her lest he might look at me com- passionately and tell me that it was a delusion of my fever that she lived. So I could do nothing for her only wait till she should awake and pray that I might be at hand when the mo- ment came. The day passed, and there was no change in her, and the evening came. I had kept to my room all day, and had refused admittance to anvone. All day I had been in pain, and now I burned, and now I was cold and at times I was deadly sick. I had delusions Sometimes that she was awake and speaking to me, and I would answer her fondly and then would come to myself with a start, hearing my own voice as though it had been the voice of a stranger, only to find her smiling gently on her pillow, cold as before. I was going down the great staircase about I five o'clock of the afternoon, having left her a light lest she should wake in the dark. I was on my way to my Uncle, whom I knew I should find in his study, doing nothing as he had been doing nothing since I came. I had seen him look at me once or twice as we sat together at board, as though he were frightened for me,' and for further calamfty to himself. If only I might share my hope, my certainty with him but I did not dare. There was only one man, and he was far away. Was it a delusion of my fever that. as I de- scended the stairs, there was the bustle of arrival in the hall; and above the other voices I heard the voice I most desired to hear on earth except hers ? I stood in the darkness of the gallery above peering down and hearing that voice. Impos- sile that he should really be here Unless he had followed me unless he had followed me With that light upon the voice I went leap- ing down the stairs, although my head reeled and I caught Andrew Auchterlony in my arms as though I loved him. There is no man in all the earth I need so much as you," said I. Although you gave me the slip," said he and while I followed as fast as I could 1 was expecting all the time to find a sick or a dead man on the road." As he spoke he was feeling my pulse. My poor lad," said he, and I knew by his face that he had heard what had befallen us— my poor lad Lam glad I have come up with you at last. There's a long rest due to me. and I'll take it at Weston and look after you. Don't you know you'd be a dead man now, if it wasn't for me." I gave the servants orders about his room, hardly knowing what I said. Then I drew him away with me to my own room. He glanced keenly at me as he saw me pro- duce the key and unlock the door and I gues- sed that he thought I was a bit mad, like the rest of the world. But when I had ushered him within, and having locked the door behind us, proceeded to light all the candles I could find, he stood a little pale, watching me, for at first he did not see what lay upon the bed which was in the shadow. But, when the lights were lit and I drew him over that he might see he called on God under his breath. I thought she was buried," she said in a stupefaction. Why so she was." said I, but I have cheated the grave of her. Last night I carried her here in my arms." I saw that he thought that he had to deal with madman. I am as sane as you," I said," and she is no more dead than I was in the dead-house at Utrecht. Look and see." He bent over her, and I saw him lift one of her eyelids. Then he felt for her pulse and for her heart. In a dream," I said, "if dream it was. I heard the things you said while I yet lay but half-conscious in the hospital. You spoke of cataleptic trances." You could not have known it," he said. staring atine. You were dead asleep while I talked." Nevertheless, my brain received if," I re- plied, although I did not know it then. Also between sleep and waking I heard her voice in a sudden terror, calling to me to save her. So I broke into her vault and carried her here." I would not say 'tis not cataleptic," he said to himself. And then he began to do things, things I should not have known how to do, against her awakening, if awakening there was t) be. He and I kept watch by turns, but it was in my watch, towards the dawn of the new day, that she awoke. And when she had awakened she stretched her arms to me as though we had never parted. I dreamt you were dead. Frank," she said. How glad I am that it was but a dream." And then she closed her eyes like a tired child against my breast. When we brought the trembling, weeping, rejoicing old man to see her, she was asleep in her own bed, in that nest of her girlhood, so white, so innocent and fragrant, that it seemed a holy place. It was but in time, her coming to life, for it had scarcely happened before there was a terrible hubbub, a number of the village folk coming shouting to Weston with the news that the grave had been desecrated and Jessica's sweet body stolen away. I think the shock of that story would have killed him if he had not known first that Jessica lived. It was long before she knew of her burying alive, not till she was my wife. When I told her, she had a strange fleeting memory of hav- ing somewhere been in deadly peril and calling mc to come to deliver her. Andrew Auchterlony and his Dutch wife live close by the gates of Weston. Sir Archibald Clavering is still with us to t.ake joy in his grand-nephews and nieces, and to spoil them, says my Jessica. Long may it be till 1 come into my title. (The End.) Next Week- THE MUTINEERS' TRIUMPH, By Oswald Wildridge.

Holland's Royal Baby. CHRISTENING CEREMONY. QUEEN IN A CARRIAGE ACCIDENT. The Hague, Saturday.—As Queen Wilhel- mina and Prince Henry drove up to the church where the christening of the Royal infant took place this morning, their carriage collided with another which had just been brought to a standstill in front ot the church. There was, says the VasDiaz Agency, a. scene of confusion, but it was soon seen that their Majesties were unhurt and able to descend from the carriage. After considerable trouble the carriages, which had become interlocked, were disen- tangled. Her Majfsty remained quite calm throughout the mishap, and descended from the carriage amidst cheers from the assembled crowd.—Central News. The Hague, Saturday.—The baptism of the infant Princess Juliana took place this after- noon at the Willemskerk. Queen Wilhelmina apd Prince Henry pro- ceeded to the church, where they were re- ceived by the Grand Master of Ceremonies and a committee of high dignitaries of the Netherlands Reformed Church, who conducted them to their seats. In accordance with the Queen's wish the decorations were very simple. At the moment when the august couple entered the church the Royal Excelsior Choral Society sang a canticle, after which the religious ser- vice began. An anthem was sung, and then Dr. Gerretsen, the Court chaplain, offered up a praver, and delivered an address. taking as his text Luke VII., 15:" And he delivered him to his mother." The infant Princess's cortege to the church left the Palace a quarter of an hour after the departure of the Queen and the Prince. It was composed of two carriages, conveying the Master of the Ceremonies and the Court Chamberlain, while Princess Juliana was in a third carriage drawn by six horses. Her Royal Highness, carried by her nurse, was accompanied by the Grand Mistress and the Grand Master of Queen Wilhelmina. The guard of honour consisted of a squadron of cavalry, half at the head, and half bringing up the rear of the procession. At the entrance of the church her Royal Highness was received by the Grand Master of Ceremonies and the committee of church dignataries. When the Court Chaplain had concluded his address, and the christening service had been read, the Grand Mistress. making a deep obeisance, placed the infant Princess in the hands of her mother, who held her during the brief ceremony at the silver Gothic font. The service was brought to a conclusion with prayers and hymns, the whole congrega- tion singing the 134th Psalm. After the Benediction had been pronounced, the Grand Mistress received the Royal child from her Majesty.—Reuter.

ABERAVON THEFT CHARGES. At Aberavon Borough Police Court on Mon- day Esther Lewis, married, Green Park-street, was charged with stealing a pair of shoes from the shop of A. Woodward, boot and shoe dealer, 64, Water-street, Aberavon. P.C. Enstone said he arrested defendant who, in reply to the charge, said I did not intend stealing them. I was only going to try them on." Defendant was bound over as a first offender and ordered to pay costs. Alleged Theft at Port Talbot. Wm. Davies, Margam-terrace, Port Talbot, was charged with stealing a lamp from the premises of D. Jenkins and Sons, furnishers, 33, Station-road, Port Talbot, on the 29th ult. Mr L. M. Thomas for defendant, appealed for the clemency of the Bench. Delendant was fined 40s and costs. I Thomas J. Walters, aged 19, Reuben Waiters, 16, and William Evans, 14, all of Green Park-street, Aberavon, were charged with stealing a quantity of lead, the property of Miss Talbot, from stores at the Old Forge Works, on Friday last. Mr L. M. Thomas defended Evans. Defendants were bound over under the Probationers Act for 12 months.

XTFRE ALARM. Some mischievous boys were the cause of a turn-out of the Cardiff Fire Brigade on Saturday evening. Superintendent Geen re- ceived information about 8.40 that smoke was issuing from the oid Electric Power Station in Tyndall-street, the property of the Great Western Railway Company. He immediately went to the spot with the brigade, and on arrival found that boys had got into the premises and lighted a fire on the floor. This was the cause of the smoke and the alarm. It might eventually have proved dangerous, but, as it was, the brigade soon accounted for the fire. No damage was done.

BEER FOR BABY. A mother who gave her baby, age four years, intoxicating liquor without a medical certi- ficate," which is now a punishable offence under the Children Act, was fined five shil- lings at Old-street Police Court on Saturday. The defendant was sitting on the steps of her house with another woman,both of whom were drinking black beer from glasses, and a constable wfeo was passing saw the defendant giving her bhby, who was in her lap, a drink of beer. She told the magistrate the child began to cry and she gave her only a sip." Mr Rose: You ought not to suppose she was crying for beer.

The Rev. J. Pollock, of St. Gabriel's Church, Swansea, is suffering from an attack of pleurisy. It is believed that he has serionsly overworked himself in connection with the secretarial duties of the Swansea Church Congress.

WORKMEN AND WAR. International Amity. REFUSE TO KILL EACH OTHER." Railwaymen'Meet at Cardiff. Jingoism feeling and the desire to creot6 animosity between nations is to receive "0 support. from English workingmen, j from the note struck at the mass meeting railwaytnen held at the Park Hall, Cardiff, Sunday, under the auspices of the Associa Society of Locomotive Engineers and \Tg men. The object of the meeting was to welc? Mr W. S. Carter, the president of the Railway Brotherhood, on his visit to WsS There was a large attendance, presided over i Mr W. Williams, the chairman oi the Card, Trades Council, who was supported on j"*v platform by Mr H. Parfitt, the organiging secretary of the society, Mr A. Fox. Scnej, secretary, Leeds, Mr W. Warwick, -Mr ,.ai Bromley Southall, and members of the and Newport Trades Council. The Chairman, in the course of his remarks, observed that such an attendap went to prove that the bonds of Labour do twined the world, and would eventually a away with the militarism so much about to-day. Some people had an idea to the day of Trade Unionism was matter of fact they had only just started Labour politics, and there were stormys before them. A Menace to Labour. Trusts and big monopolies were a iriienace t. La hour, and in order to fight these Unionism would continue to exist, and in ° .jjj to become a power Labour must be linked politics, so that they might have a say in the making of laws. (Applause.) He was glad ø find that since 1901 the Associated Society bld increased by 9,000 members. (Applause.) Mr H. Parfitt, in formally welcoming W. S. Carter, said that Wales had been call ad the stronghold, of combinations, and bb8 always been able to hold its own in t struggle between Capital and Labour. greatest difficulty the Labour heir had in South Wales was to hold tb men back. Wales was undoubted^ to the front in the recent all-grade and if it had come to a fig»ht Cardiff and i neighbours would have been in the front oi ,iat struggle. Wales was the home of the As-,or Society, for though Monmouthshire was cajj the birthplace of the society, it had Ot"; dropped down there by a wise Providence order that Wales might rock the cradle. fit members now were scattered all over and Scotland, and in their guest they ha& rZ American member of the society. They looked to America for guidance, for Am was the home of thousands of oppressed men and Englishmen and millions of Irishd^ One of the objects of the gathering ff33 bring the workers of the various count' together in order to foil the attempts °h tp Yellow Press, which sought to drive tbe apart. The Interests of Workmen. The interests of the workmen in all county were identical, and they had nothing to by killing each other. If the workers to kill each other, then Kings and Empe^ and Presidents and others in authority tire of the game. (Applause.) Thus jf they do away with war between nations. the workmen of France and Germany America refused to fight, it stood to that there would be no need for standing a,rCPlat and Dreadnoughts and airships. (Laugh and applause,) They aimed at the broth hood of men, and extended to their brot^ from across the sea a hearty welcome gallant little Wales." (Applause.) Mr Carter, who received an ovation on rlS^ to reply, said that he understood the welcov^ to be extended to the gfeat mass of America who were engaged in the same cI?ti It was from the Mother Country that they gained their knowledge of Trade the beginning. All the unions in America international, for they knew no line of dew ation between workmen, and there distinction in the combinations of capital 0 labour of the United States and Canada. £ organisation of Canada was identical with-tgf of the States, and the Associated Society Engineers and Firemen numbered 65.000. 0 whom a very large proportion owed aüegleø to the British Flag. There was a killS õ between the working people of the States d the working people of other countries, among all classes there was a feeling of for England, the best evidence of 0( could illustrate by saying that when Japa» 0 Germany built one Dreadnought it 8 yj them more concern than if built twelve. (Hear, hear.) They yj their Jingoes and' their Yellow Press America, but he never knew a man ye?. f0t preached war but that he preached ll> profit. (Hear, hear, and applause.) B°ff. wars had they in the past that were not t'oi gain of the few ? Men Who Made War. The men who made war never fo^/g^ (Hear, hear.) They took the profit, and e%VeC^ the common people to yield up their lives | their comforts in order that they migh" £ 3 land or gold. (Hear, hear.) When a class ( actuated by such motives in jj affairs it behoved the people to be wary- ejf they sacrified men's blood and lives for own gain in wars, what could they expect them when it became a question of the sion of the profits of the industries, of j, nation? (Hear, hear.) Protective made it possible for manufacturers in AUleít to ask their own price for their goods. plea when making tariffs was that they to protect Labour, but he had never hearC*)j}t the working men getting any part of the P?^- save that which they wrung from the cs, P, ists by means of their Trade Unions. bear.) If men told them that the _L»D Unions of America were not effective* would point to the fact that in almost all within the past 35 years the wages 1;1 been increased from 40 to 100 per cent. y) layers got iEl a day, and carpenters from lits 14s. Out of the wreckage of the great of labour the present American Trade U11 gjr had sprung. Mr Carter then went on plain the working of the American Rftl Brotherhoods, and said that by these ta they had practically doubled the wages o» 0i men since 1875, and had increased the waf? engineers by 50 per cent. Clerks and the of the permanent way had not combined %60 consequently had not enjoyed similar advo, ages, but engine drivers earned from 32s for six or eight hours work, locomotive men would be disappointed if they did °^e^' ceive 12s at the end of ten hours, and t> men, guards, and shunters received month. (Hear hear.) Proceeding he urg^gS British raiiwaymen to combine, but ?a. would only come by the union of indi^1 trades being afterwards federated. Wise Combination. old By wise combination their conditions be greatly improved without a strike or of a strike. All their great victories had won without strikes, for general manager9 came to recognise that they were dealing sJsO business men. (Hear, hear.) I^et theni study military history and learn never battle when the enemy invited them, t°oj all their progressive movements in tU^^ld prosperity, and in times of adversity to what they had won. (Applause.) A* Speeches were also delivered by MeSS^jje Fox, W. Warwick, and J. Bromley, course of the proceedings Miss Ethel rendered a solo which was much appreci*

THE ROMANS IN WALES- f At the Montgomeryshire village of o' there was ended on Saturday the first interesting and important excavations. V. taken jointly by the Powysland Club Liverpool Excavation Committee, thisreS- jjW forms part of a scheme to gain more information concerning the dark h>s period between the departure of the and the beginning of documentary bis^of The work is being supervised by o>- Bosanquet, assisted by Dr. E. Davies Caersws, and Mr Eyre Evans, of Abe S t Caersws stood at the junction of no fewe" five Roman roads.. The excavator3 began operations south-eastern corner of the encampmeP*t a very satisfactory result. The first two o* I revealed under the surface soil a thick .7ets0^ clays, whose artificial character was e tfro by the stone cobbling, which separated 1 the subsoil. Three cylindrical holes through this clayey rampart, and the P + tit remains of decayed wood suggest Romans here used large timbers or tall which were perhaps continued upwards f watch-tower, such as is described by estiø This discovery at Caersws has an iote parallel at Castteshaw, near 01dhaca» two years ago similar traces of timbe found in connection with a clay rampar clue to the date when these Caersws » were constructed it is worth noting tha {0ul> depth of ten feet there were also embedded in the clay some of Samian pottery of an early h*^ which was in use during the secon of the first century. Outside the clayeJ^g^oiJ^ part there was traced a wall of red which could not have been quarried miles of Caersws. ligh^ tv- Saturday's excavations brought to c°*\ south wall of a building, apparently cfoSS^ siderable size, adjoining a road whicii 0 the camp from east to west, and ,D -^to \,e toad previously found, which runs • camp from the south gate. These roa^(j j been cut across in five or six places, a poB- which was dissected shows several road surfaces of different dates. Considering the important posi^ ec&t*°rC the camp occupied archa;ological exp in Montgomeryshire are running high tl> vided a sufficiency of funds is avaua ? explorations will throw much new hg Roman Wales.

,_u_u_ njbi On Monday morning, as Mr manager at Vaughan's lodging houses fo<^ Swansea, was going his l'oun. 'vJ>d. Thomas Clark (50), navvy, dead in ceased had been staying at the lodg for about a month.