Penarth Chronicle and District Advertiser

Weekly Notes by Quirkquequip. The Editor does not hold himself responsible for the opinions expressed in these notes. As a result of "the eternal fitness of things," there was a reciprocity between visitors to Lavernock Camp on Sunday aud certain boatmen who plied between the Beach and the Point. Three denarii per caput was, surely, not exorbitant. 00. A rather irreverent commissioned officer solemnly asseverated to a pressman that at Sunday's al fresco service the text was Fear God and obey the Quartermaster." How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds make ill deeds done." So King John said upbraidingly to Hubert. The late London Mnniripal Authority practically and sensiblv endorsed this dictum by railing in the outside platform at the top of the Monument. Benighted Penarth, on the other hand; puts a premium on felo de se. How long, ye gods, bow long ere the Estate or Council effectively rail the cliffs, fore and aft ? 000 On dit that one of our most eminent townsmen-bas leased Cefn Mably Hall, the residence of Capt. Tint. It may not be generally known that Morristown is built on the Tint Estate through a misunderstanding with the present Lord of the Manor. The Tint's have another name, viz.. Kemeys, which they are supposed to adopt for some family or occult reason* Amongst the penates at Cefn Mably is an oil painting of Sir Nicholas Kemeys, who was a noted wrestler. His prowess having reached as far as Land's End, a famous Cornish wrestler burned to try conclusions* Mounted on his faithful mcke," he hurried off, and finally found himself inside the grounds of, and face to face with, Sir Nicholas, to whom he expressed his wish to try a fall. The burly and doughty knight intimated his extreme felicity to oblige him, but the Cornishman was soon flung over the wall into the road. Picking himself up, he stammered out that he should feel obliged if Sir "Nick" would throw the donkey over, too. His request in this respect was quickly acceded to, and the chronicler goes on to re- late that both went home sadder but wiser men. 000 An oft quoted, but grossly false, saying is, that W1 e: e ignorance is blimi 'Tis folly to be wise." Apart from the pernicious folly of allowing children to indiscriminately eat sweets, thereby causing dis4 ordered stomach, dyspepsy, and bad teeth, it will be rather an eye-opener to know that at a County Court in London, last week, it was elicited by the judge that bad eggs were used for making sugar candy. 000 A Birmingham traveller who was au fait in the sauce line told me sub rosa that diseased livers were no small factors in making the vaunted piquancy of certain sauces. Nothing like hangry-sauce after that, o 0* To arouse Penarth enthusiasm over Major Quin seems to be a garagantuan enterprise. On Monday a certain official bad almost to be carried into a draper's shop to buy a shilling's worth of calico, which was subsequently used as the background for a motto. This was the only decoration hung in honour of the initial visit to Penarth of the would-be ouster of Mr A. J. Williams, M.P.

Original Poetry. JOY IN THE MASTER'S SERVICE. THERE'S joy in the Master's service, 'Tis sweet to do His will Then patiently let us labour Till death our voices still. And when the journey is ended, The prize we've sought for, won, How gladsome will be His welcome: Well done, my child, come home There's joy in the Master's service, E'en though the billows roar, The lightnings flash, the thunders ciash, The waves lash wild the shore, There's joy in the Master's service When all is calm and bright, When earth is clad in fairest garb, And darkness yields to light. There's joy in the Master's service, The old man cried, as he, With hoary locks and bended mien, Passed to eternity. There's joy in the Master's service, Quoth he in life's glad prime, E'er the waning sun of summer Yielded to winter time. There's joy in the Master's service Enter it while you may Come ye, the sweet buds of promise, Why do ye still delay ? The lamp of life is now burning, The Saviour's saying Come Oh list to His voice most tender, Nor from Him longer roam. Penarth. 5 J. F. P.