The Merthyr Express

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HER VENGEANCE BY E. R. PUNSHON. Author of "The Choice," "The Spin of the Coin," etc., etc. CHAPTER XXV.—EIRA RIDES. Eira sat quietly in her saddle, smoothing hei horse's neck and looking back towards the crowd of lynchers, sweeping on towards her grandfather's farm. What awful thing would happen when they got there? That mob, with a:l its passions roused, under the sway of a fanatic like Keene, its suspicions already given an object, would it stop to listen to the story of two disguised Englishmen, or would it not sweep that away as a mere fable put for- ward to baulk its desires? Would it pause to vffer its victims even the semblance of a chance to defend themselves? One might as well ex- pect the tiger searching for its prey to inquire bt its victim whether it wants to be eaten or cc). Yet only a little delay would save them. Delay That was the one thing necessary. J3ut how to win it? "Mr. Fear," she said, "you must listen to tne, please. There is something I want to lell you. Something very strange. These two inen who are suspected of this murder are not negroes at all. They are white men." "Oh, no!" said Frear, "it is two strange jiggers the boys are after "Yes, but they are really white men," ex- tlaimed Eira; "only they have disguised them- lelves as negroes." "Oh. you don't say!" returned Frear incre- dulously. "Ah. you don't believe me!" she cried. "Well," said Frear, "it ain't a too likely tale, is it? White men are not in the habit of letting on to be niggers, are they? Besides, this here Hetherington has played that trick before. Editor Keene was telling how he got out of the hands of a lynching bee down in Kansas some. years ago by letting on he was really a white man got- up as a nigger. By the time they had scrubbed him well, and made sure he was the kind of colour'that don't come off, the Sheriff had turned up. So Hethering ton escaped that time, because when the Sheriff brought him to trial his lawyer got him off ci some trick or another. But that is not a game he can play twice. Editor Keene told us all about it just to le us know what a smart nigger we had to deal with." "But that is all nonsense," said Eira. "I know the man. I met him in Europe when I wai there." "They've been stuffing you up, miss," said Frear. regarding her pityingly; "why. Editor Keene published his photo in his paper three months ago, and how could you know him in Europe when Keene had him photographed here? It is some other man you are thinking of. miss." He took out of his pocket, ae. he spoke, and showed to Eira, a copy of ftiat day's "Athens Clarion." There, under- flaming head lines, was an account of the Bryan murder, a wild denunciation of the negro race in general, and a fervent, frantic appeal to the American peo- ple 'to rise in their might, and inflict "a just, a sudden, Wld an awful punishment" on the murderers of Mrs. Bryan, in order that "the r honour of our women may be made secure" And adorning all this rigmarole was a large photograph of Mr. Hetherington, but repre- senting him as a negrc and in clothes similar to those he now wore. Eira knew this photograph at once. It was one that had been published in one of the London illustrated papers on the occasion of some public meeting in which Mr. Hethering- ton had taken a part. She herself had cut it but. and forwarded it to her grandfather, who had asked her for such a photograph, and evi- Hently he had had a reproduction prepared from it, preserving the millionaire's features, but representing him as a man of colour A Cold dread seized upcn her as she began to realize how wide flung was this net in which her grandfather had taken his enemy; how wide flung, and yet of how small a mesh, en- closing everything, and permitting nothing to escape. Even Keene, the fanatic, his supposed pnemy. even of him he made use! "This has all been planned on purpose," said Eira, very pale. "What?" asked Frear. "But don't you worry, miss; if this Hetherington is really white, he can easily prove it by the aid of a little soap and water." "No, no, for it won't come off," said Eira quickly. "Yes, I've often noticed that with ooloured folks," said Frear drily. "Anyways, white or black, if he is guilty of murdering Mrs. Bryan, he will deserve all he gets. They have just been stuffing you. miss, but a yarn like that ain't good enough for us. Of course, be only wants la few hours' delay, so that the Sheriff can come up and lodge him comfortably in gaol. and then they will try him, and then he will feppeal, and so on, tijl he gets off on some lawyer's trick or another. No, miss, that won't do for us." Eira took out her handkerchief, and put it to her throat. It seemed to her that all hope was escaping her. Everything had been pre- pared, everything had been arranged. This mob of lynchers, under the domination of that half-crazed fanatic, Editor Keene, would never pause to listen to any defence or to consider anything. The plea that the twfc suspected men were really white men in disguise had been carefully discounted, and would now only be greeted with ridicule as a clumsy trick to gain time. Her brief glance at the paper had been enough to show her how carefully the story had been prepared to throw suspicion on Mr. Hetherington and Hugh, and in such a case suspicion was equivalent to condemnation. Her grandfather, whose hand she recognised in all this, had thought of everything, prepared everything; she did not understand how, but it seemed to her that everything moved and went as he desired, that he oontrolled events and ordered even the future to arrange itself as he wished, bending men and things together to the awful destruction of the destroyer of his son. A horror grew in her of herself, that she had in her veins the blood of a manwho could plan his vengeance thus, and turn all things to its service. "This is all lies," she cried, flinging on the ground the paper Frear had given her. "A man might think you wanted to save these two niggers," observed Frear. "So I do," she answered recklessly. "Well, now," he said slowly, "if you helped men like them there to escape, the boys would take vou to be as bad as them. A white wo- man help the murderers of a white woman to escane!" and his face showed a stern horror at the idea. Eiro had been holding her hand, her hand- kerchief in it, to her throat. She took it awAy now, and leaned her hand, still holding the handkerchief, on his horse's croup, while, lean- ing over, she looked up anxiously into his face. "Mr. Frear," she said, fixing her eyes en- kreaticglv on his, and moving her hand with thj handkerchief in it towards his horse's tail. "Mr. Frear, will you believe me if I fell you know these two men are white men, and are innocent?" 'Til believe they have been stuffing you with a yarn that won't go down with the boys," bo answered, "but that's all." "Very well, let us go on to town, then," she said. withdrawing her hand. "Right," said Frear, and on a sudden his horse lashed out viciously with his hind legs. "Here, what's the matter?" exclaimed Frear. The animal reared, span rauod on its hind logs, and snorted wildly. "Down, you beast," j cried Frear, and hit it on the nose. At that it took the bit between its teeth and galloped awav like a mad thing, ia spite of all its rider could do to check it. For, under cover of her handkerchief, Eira had taken her brooch out from where she wore it at her neck. and had slipped it under the taii of Frear's horse. As soon as the animal moved, it pricked it; the fastor it moved, the more deeply the pin of the brooch pierced maddened with pain and indignation, the ani- mal was now galloping wildly over the prairie, vainly endeavouring to escape the pain that bit it from behind, the bewildered Frear being quite unable to check or control it. "Pray heaven the brooch docs not 6lip out," said Eira to herself, and turning her own horse's head, she set herself to ride as she had never ridden yet, not even when she had been pursued by the lynchers. just a, little while before. For then she had only been frightened and bpwildered, but now despair had wrought her powers up to the last pitch of her capa- city. She heard Frear shouting from behind, but paid no heed She rode with a wise reckless- ness, coaxing from her horse every ounce of speed he possessed, and not fearing to take such chances down ravines, by gopher holes, over a wire fence that crossed her path. as at other moments she would have trembled at the thought of. At last she came in sight of the mob of lyn- chers, and making a detour she gained a deep ravine by which she hoped to head them un- perceived. In this she succeeded, for they had no thought of danger from their rear; and, indeed, the idea of any man or woman of the white race endeavouring to thwart their purpose would have been inconcpivable to most of them. Along the bottom of the ravine Eira rode her swiftest, and heard as she rode the sound of the march- ing of the lynchers on her left hand. But if she had lost the earlier race, this one she won, and she emerged from the ravine half a mile in front of the lynchers and behind a clump of poplars that hid her from their view. Blessing heaven for the friendly trees, she galloped on, still urging her horse to faster and ever faster peed. Nobly the gallant beast responded, not knowing why, knowing only his mistress had need of his bast services, and wil- ling for her sake and at her call to spend him- self to the death. There was froth at his mouth, and his pace was not always steady, but still his speed never slackened, ahd 80 with a rush they came and passed like thunder through the negro settlement, and on, followed by a low cry of fear from the throats of those who saw her pass, for all understood, that she who rode like this was pursued by some danger be- yond the ordinary. Past the village there was a stretch of bare prairie, of perhaps a quarter of a mile. This seemed to her intexminabie, and yet her horse still galloped with unslackened speed. At last the outer fence was reached, and when she saw the gate was closed she set her horse straight at it, and shut her eyes, and prayed. The horse did not rise to the jump, for he could not. but charged it full. With a great crash the gate went down, and horse and rider with it. The horse lay still, but Eira jumped up and ran. The gate of the inner fence was closed, and she remembered the tales, of how this was charged with electricity, and of how to touch it was certain death. Bu* she had not time for doubts, and she seized the gate ,and tore it open, and passed on unharmed. Run- ning straight forward, she tried the door of the building. That was locked, so she began to beat upon it, and to cry out loudly, and then her grandfather looked out from the window above. "Who is there?" he said. "I," she cried, "let me in, let me in." He seemed to hesitate, and then drew back his head. There was some lever above which lie could touch, and by which the door opened. As Eira beat on it again, it yielded to her blows, and she ran in and down the passage and up the stairs beyond and into the great labor- atory which she knew well. The three men stood there together. Her grandfather was by the window. Hugh, with his arms folded. leaned against the wall. Mr. Hetherington had been storming, raging, de- nouncing. threatening, and now. somewhat exhausted by the vehemence of the. outbreak to which he had given way, he turned to look at Eira. "What's this he said. "Eira." said Mr. Siddle, reading, her pur- pose in her eyes, "this man is your father's murderer." "I would not be his," said Eira, and turned to the two Englishmen. "You have been taken in a trap," she said; "your only hope is to es- cape at once." "I'll not," cried Mr. Hetherington, "they won't dare touch me." "Come here, and look," said Eirn, and drew him to the window. A mile away the mob of lynchers was visi- ble. coming on very swiftly and silently, and led by a solitary man driving a light buggv. CHAPTER XXVI.—THE FLIGHT. In the upper chamber a dreadful silence reigned Without, the sun shone burningly on the level and quiet prairie, over which there marched the mob of lynchers. Within no one spoke or moved for a space of which it cannot well be said how long it lasted. It seemed to thfm long enough, and yet probably was not more than a few seconds. In fact, it cannot have been really long, for the lynchers did not seem appreciably nearer when Mr. Hethering ton stirred slightly, and pointing with his hand, said: but what do they want?" "You," said Noah Siddle. "Your only chance is to escape at once," interposed Eira quickly. "I met them and they tried to keep me, but I got away to tell you. They believe Mrs. Bryan was murdered by two strange negroes, and you appear two strange negroes; that is enough for them In their present state of mind." "But if we tell them we are reaHy white ■ men?" said Hugh. "They will not believe you," returned Eira; "you are taken in a trap and all that has been arranged, thought of, provided against. For three months past they have been told of a ne- gro desperado, named Hetherington; your photograph has been coloured, and published as his; a story has been told of his tricking other lynchers by pretending to be a white man disguised; you must reach town, and get pro- tection—if that be possible." "You put the case admirably," said Mr. Sid- dle "and, by the way, my dear Eira, do you know our experiment has turned out brilliantly successful? Now diamonds can be made as easily as the latest patent breakfast food. Just think of that—just think of all that means to the man who holds such a. secret as that." They all three looked at them, and all of them understood. This, then, was that malformed old man's revenge, and his noseless face was terrible in its expression of an awful triumph Not satisfied merely to destroy his enemy, he piust first bring him within reach of the fruition of all his wildest hopes, then, at the moment of triumph, hurl him down into the most strangely dreadful fate that any man of his race has ever endured. Putting out his hand, Noah Siddle took up the diamonds Or) the ta- ble and played with them, watching Mr Heth- erington the while. "Absolute success," he said. "What does not the world offer to a man holding such a secret? Eh, Mr. Hetherington 1" "This is your doing, then," said Hugh. "Every step you have taken of late, said Noah Siddle, "you have taken as I wished; the very words you have spoken I have put into your mouth when you slept and when you woke, when you movedT and when you were still, it was all as I had arranged." "Perhaps you arranged the murder of this Mrs. Bryan, too?" suggested Hugh. "Why, so I did," said Noah, with a laugh. "I see you are a bright young fellow, and can guess as smartly as the next man." "Grandfather," said Eira, "have you not done enough? You can save us now, if you will? Will you, grandfather?" she said again, but she spoke without hope, for the look on vthat strange, noseless face was hardly human. "Why. yes, I will," he said, to her surprise, "on just one condition—one small condition— let them give me back my eon, and then I will saTO them." "They are coming, we must escape," mutter- ed Mr. Hetherington, and made a staggering step towards the door. All his violence had left him, all his reso- j lution, his force of will and character, all seem- ed to have gone. He was like a man daunted and broken, his one idea flight; the sight of the swift, ominous oncoming of the lynchers had struck fear into his soul. "It is our only chance," said Eira; "come," and without quite thinking what she did she gave her hand to Hugh. "You are going, then, James Hethering- ton?" asked Noah Siddle. "What! will you not take a diamond or two with you? Diamonds are cheap now, you know." But Mr. Hetherington paid no heed, for he was not thinking of diamonds. Skin for skin— aye, all that a man hath he will give for his life; and Noah Siddle's revenge had been too sub- tie in this, that now it added nothing to the horror of his victim's position that he was leaving behind him all the great secret for which he had endured and risked and'lost so much. He, Hugh, Eira, one after the other, they went out of the room, and Noah was left alone to play with the newly manufactured diamonds, and to listen to the sounds that increased, and told of the nearing approach of the lynchers. At the door of the building, as they came out into the open air, Hugh bent and kissed Eira's hand, and then released it. "If we are able to escape, we may be able to thank you properly later on," he said; "we cannot now." "I must come with you," she said, as pale as death. "Oh, no, no," he said with distress in his voice.

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FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS, WHO MADE THEE? Little laftib, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life and bade thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead: Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voicej Making all the vales rejoice? Little lamb, I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a lamb. He is meek and He is mild, He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little lamb, God bless thee! -Blake. ONLY A BOY. j Only a boy, his noise and fun, The veriest mystery under the sun; As brimful of mischief, and wit, and glee, As ever a human frame can be, And as hard to manage as—what? Ah, me! 'Tis hard to tell, j Yet we loved him well. #| Only & boy with his fearful t, I Who cannot be driven, must be led; Who troubles "the neighbour's dogs and cats, And tears more clothes, and spoils more hats, Loses more kites, and tops, and bats Than would stock a store For a year or more. j Only a boy, with his wild, strange w^ys, j With his idle hours, or his busy days, With his queer remarks and his odd replies, Sometimes foolish and sometimes wise, Often, brilliant for one of his siZè, i As a meteor hurled From the planet world. i On!y a boy, who will be a man, • If Nature goes on with her first plan; IfjHt<ùn;fY-r¡uce, or some fatal snare, CY>ji«*<irc- not to rob U3 of this our heir, Our btes-'os,. our t-ioubie. our reet, our care, Our tcrum.t, VQV! j ft &8JU 1

FOR MATRON AND MAID. OF DIFFERENT GENERATIONS. "Mother and I are perfectly congenial," says a girl, "in almost everything except our ideas of how a house should be run. Of course, I am away all day at work, and it is right that she should have the management. But she is old-fashion-ed in her way?, and tries to run things as she did when my father was alive and we kept a house CD a large scale. We live now in a small flat, but she will havo baking da.ys and company dinners, as she al- ways did, and nearly works herself to death and nearly empties the family purse. "Then she wants me to save on dress. Of courss, it is the differenoe in our point of view. "When I attempt to bring more modern ideas into our way of living, she thinks I am partaking of the restlessness of the age. She r does not care for going out, so I stay at home. Mother's preferences are likely to rule me, and instead of developing jilong my own lines, I am in danger of stagnating afong hers. DAINTY CUSHION COVERS. No excuse can ever be made for the soiled cushions that often grace couches — disgrace might be more appropriate. Never have ex- quisito cretonnes a.nd chintzes been so inexpen- sive as now. Such materials clean and wash with the best results, and cushion covers of them always look attractive. Cases can be quickly run up on a machine; one point to remember is to make the cover a trifle smaller than the cushion, so as to get a good fit. BRASS ORNAMENTED WOOD. So fascinating are the manual arts other tnan needlework, which may be pursued by the amateur, that efforts are being continually made to find some new field in which attractive articles for the house or personal use can be turned out. Among the latest innovations of this sort is the new way of using metal on wood. Hammered brass has been popular a long time as handicraft for women, but this new idea uses the metal to decorate articles of wood instead of having the articles made entirely of metal. NIP "WHINING" IN THE BUD. j If your child is a whiner, break him of the habit. There is nothing so detestable as the young- ster who whines from dawn to daijs. His in- cessant "Why can't I do tn_i",?" "Must I do that?" "I don't want to 1" or "I don't see why," is maddening to a degree. Even the doting parent who is responsible for that whining has periods when she is in- clin-ed to wonder why she was so proud whn her boy or her girl was born, when she con- rkiers her childless friend not to off after all. Cure him of th* habit._ and if the whiner himself does not thank you in after years, be sure that those who must live with him will do so. There is no chance of happiness under the roof of a whiner; nothing you do will please, and everything you do or leave undone is war- ranted to displease. Such being the caM, break up whining before it has become a habit. SPOKES IN THE WHEEL OF FASHION. Some new hats have embroidered velvet crowns. Other crowns are a mass of tulie Jabots worn with coat costumes grow longer and longer. Cactus red is one of the most striking new colours. Many of the new leghorn hats are faced with vel vet. Linens for the coming season are soft, heavy, and pliable. Besides ribbons of gold and silver, very at- tractive ones in copper bind up hair. Many of the new short coats are made to fit loosely and hang in straight lines. Elaborate handwork embroidery is to be seen on coats and gowns of washable material. Square and oblong buckles of gathered silk a an established trimming for smart gowns. Various springtime greens are wall to the front again. White swiss muslin for blouses and dresses show fine coloured dots. The newest form of the long chiffon scarf shows one fine chiffon posed over another of different colouring. Ashes of roses, coral, and what is known as bois de rose are three of the favourite pink shades this season. A wide ribbon bow or a fancy buckle is the usual finish to dancing slippers of satin. The puff on a sleeve may be in almost any position to be smart, but a favourite placing is when the sleeve presents the puff at the back, it comin-g out full over tho elbow, and drooping slightly over a deep cuff. FICHUS AND SLEEVES. When it comes to artitic owning, the clever home dressmaker can often hit upon effects that are charming and wonderfull becoming to her. With many women, the fichu and fichu draperies are always delightful, and invariably can someone adapt their favourite sty,h to the fashion of the moment. Just now the small sleeves aid the- would-be fichu wearer for the slight arm coverings and shoulder drapery can b all in one. A charming gown that lias been made up over paile green satin that had figured as an important gown and seen very hard wear, shows a fVhu of a peculiar dul! heliotrope tone in net. This net veils the who!? dress. and is held in position to the waist with phs. trons of embroidery showing green and heE" trope silk and beads among other colourings. From either side of the flat embroidered piece at the back emanates the fulness of the. fich i. which is drawn up over the shoulder and round the arm, fastening down on to the front with rosettes and two dangling ends. A PRETTY MODEL. A leading dressmaker who makes a speciality of children's things had a great number o* modol costumes and dresses in amethyst and mauve shades of frieze and cloth. One which particularlv took my fancy was in Parma mauve cloth, and suited to a girl of ten O a little more. The skirt was of the simple pleated type, but pressed and stitched perfectly, and the little coat, loose-fitting and double-breasted, had a square collar falling over the shoulders of mauve and white washing silk in the tiniest of checks, and cuffs to match. • A little blouse of the same, simply tucked from neck to waist with box-pleat, and killted frills at each side, was provided to wear underneath, completed with a dainty little turnover collar of em- broidered white muslin.—Leaoh s Children's Dressmaker" for April. HINTS FOR THE HOME. Toast can be made over a gas stove without soorching or blackening by putting a thin piece of sheet iron or tin over the burner When it is hot hoJd the bread over it on s bread toaster. Potatoes when boiled, if not a good colour, can be made beautifully white by adding a little milk and a small piece of butter, not forgetting to wash wall in the opef air. Tried and always suooessful. To be rid of mice.—The simplest and most effective way is to get some mint (fresh or dried), and put in the mice holes or about the place. The mioe obj-act to the smell, and, find other haunts. The mint wants renewing once a week, as the smell has all gone after a week. This has been tried and proved effective. Fruit Jelly.—Get a pint jelly (pineapple, apri- cot, or any other preferred), have ready tin of apricot or pineapple. Make jelly, using instead of the usual pint of water the juice from tinned fruit, and make up to the pint. When dissolv- ed, pour over the pint already laid at bottom of dish. A very nice jelly is made by using different kinds of fruit in same way, such as oranges, bananas, pineapple, cherry, straw- berries, or anything in season. CAKES AND PUDDINGS.—No. 19. The recipe below gives a very nioo plain Cake which will not harm the most delicate coneti- tiufeion, yet which will be very appetising. RICE CAKE. 1 paoket of Cakeoma. 5 ozs. Butter. 2 Eggs. Half a glass of Milk. Half a teacupful of Ground Rioe. METHOD. Empty the Cakeoma and ground rice into a mixing bowl and rub in the butter until quite fine. Beat the eggs, and together with the Milk add them to the other ingredients, and mix thoroughly but lightly, and bake in a moderately hot oven. A Bunlo&f recipe next week. Cakeoma is sold only in 3d. packets by Grocers and Stores everywhere.

FAMOUS HUMORIST'S DICTUM. "The longer I live," says Sidney Smith, the famous clerical humorist, "the more' I am conv inced that half the unhappiness of mankind arises from little stoppages, from food pressing in the wrong place. Old friend- ships have been destroyed by toasted cheese, and .hard salted meat has led to suicide." The importance of keeping stomach or liver in good working order cannot be over-estimated, for, to again quote the great humorist already referred to, "unpleasant feelings of the body produce corresponding sensations of the mind, and a great scene of wretchedness is sketched out by a morsel of undigested food." If your health has been undermined by failure to digest your food, rest assured that Page Woodcock's Pills will set you right, for what they have done for others they will accomplish for you. Page Woodofrck's Pills cure Dyspepsia, Con- stipation, Flatulence, Nausea, Sick Headache, Acidity, H*lrtburn, Nervousness, Irritability, I and nil forms of functional difecrdcr cf thoj stomach, or the liver. Of all elumu3isat Is. Ed. and 2a. 9d.; can be taken safely by the i youngest or the. oldest, and by persons of either; sex. Renowned for sixty years, Mayo cuica j cure ywfc i

Y Fsrdd Llyfrau Cymraeg i'w hadolygu, ia danfon i'r cyfeiriad canlynol: —Mr. E. T..iolm (Ieuan Dvfed), "Glantaf," 33, Brynheulog, Penydarren, Merthyr.

AWELON FY NCWLAD, JOHN PENEY, etc.— Costiodd eich llythyrau i ni geiniog yr un. Gellwch anfon cynnyrchion ar gyfer y Wasg drwy y llythyrdy hvd bedair wns am ddimai, mewn amlen agored, ond peidio gosod ynddo ddim o "natur llythyr"—dim ond yr hyn' fwr- i-edir i'w gyhoeddi. Gall yr awdwr osod ei enw priodol ar gefn un o'r lleni fyddo yn cymvys y mater fwriedir i'r Wasg; ond dim arall. Os anfonir nodyn cyfrinachol cynnyrchion, fel y gwnaethoch chwi, caiff y derbynydd y fraint o dalu yn ddwbl am y cyfryw. Onid yw yn syndod na fuasai "beirdd" yn gwybod hyn bellach? Y cwbl sydd eisiau wneyd yw goeod "MS. for Press," ar gwr yr amlen agored, a. pheidio gosod ynddo ddim o natur llythyr. Pan na chydymffurfir a'r rheol semi hon, gelwir arnom yn ami i "dalu yn ddwb," a hyny am bithau digon di-werth iawcr pryd. PENNILLION CKOESAWOL MR. R. G. T.—Pen- nillion dawnus, gwresog, 0. tharawiadol; am- lygant yni, brwdfrvd^dd, a serch y galon roes- awgar ar vr amgylchiad dyddorol. SALM YMWABED.—Salm farddonol, obeithiol, bsrt, ac hydems. Teg yw cael anadlu weithiau yn awyrgylch gobaith a. mwynhad. Gormod o duedd sydd ynom yn ami i edrych ar yr ochr dywyllaf. GwYN AWEN UWCH BEDD "HATHKEN."— Dywenydd genym ydyw cyhoeddi y pennifiion tlysion hyn ar ol ein ben gyfaill, y Parch. J. Hathren Davies. o:

MAWRTH (MARS). Mawrth a. nawf yn mhyrth y nen,—hi wrida Yn berhudol addien; Heibio hwylia yn belen—ufelawg, Lewych "'rhyfelawgl" Lamp lachar felen! Dowlais. W. H. D. -:0:-

SALM YMWARED. Chwyth, auafwynt, fel y mynnot, Rhwyg y derw ar y graig: Chwyth yr ewyn ar y tonnau Pan y berwo bron yr aig; Minnau lechaf dan gysgodioa Tawel heddwch Salem lan, Lie mae cariad yn pereiddio Craith fy mron a'i beraidd gan. Gwg a gwawd y maith flynyddau, Cwpaneidiau chwerwon iawn, Boed eu hewyn fel wermodau, Bytb ni Dwyfol ddawn., Swyn yr oriau per, nefola'-dd, Drecha. rwvsg daearol fyd: Nis gall urddas aur goronau Luddias rhai'n i loni 'mryd. Llifa chwyrn afonydd ainser Tua thragwyddoldeb maith: Chwyrn raiadrau ylch y glannau, LIe. mao ffordd fy nghamrau Uaith. Clywaf' uwch eu gorddyfnderau Saih broydd pur, Ar adenydd dwyfol awel Hedant hwy i cur. Trwy gyfnodau maith y croad, Dwyfol ras Anfeidrol lor Leda'i aden fawr, waxcheidiol, Dros derfynau tir a mor; Dwyfol yni nefyd ddyry I'r ffyddloniaid gwrol sydd, Trwy nosdiroedd gorthrymderau, 'N dringo rhiwiau serth y ffydd. Cefncbed. GWILYU THOMAS. -:0:-

CWYN AWEN UWCH BEDD "HATHREN." Diffoddodd, haul a'i berlog fflam, A cliiliodd lloer a seren; Goboithion plant a chakrn mam, Pan y machludodd Hathreo. t Dros Iwyni'r Cefn taen galar mawr, 0 Ferthyr ffodd yr hculwen: A daeth y nos i byrth y wawr Pan y bu farw Hathren. Yr Eglwys fel amddifad sydd, GTiddfana fel colomen; Daeth canol nos i'w chanol dydd Pan cauodd llygaid Hathren. Yr enwad b yg fel gweddw flin I gwynfan is yr ywen Mae cmyn dwyster ar ei min Uwch sydyn feddrod Hathren. Da th storm o drallod dros y wlad, Mor ddu! mor wlyb ei haden! Mae oalon osnedl mewn pruddhad Wrth orfod claddu Hathren. Mae dvmhesti gref Yn rolchi y dywarchen: Orchuddia wyneb prophwyd Nef—> Yr ardderchosaf Hathren. Ond trwy'r ystorm dduaf nos, Fe glywaf eos lawen Yn pyncio nodau alaw dlos Uwch coffadwriaetb Hathren. Nid marw vdyw prophwyd Duw— na," medd pob briallen Sy'n curo porth pob gwanwyn byw, "Nis gellir bedd i Hathren. Cysgodai ef y llesg a'r tkiwd :.or. Fel cangau nerthoi dderwen I'r briw ei fron bu ef yn frawd— Twr gobaith ydoedd Hathren. 'Roedd ei deimladau tyner ef Fel dail y gedrwydaen: 'Roedd clychau iawnder yn ei lef,. A'r Nef yn nghalon Hathren. s, 0 dywed, angel gwyn fy Nuw, d'est ar aden mollten I gipio i'r Baradwys fryn Y caredicaf Hathren? A wyddost i dy eangiad di Gynliyriu Gwalia addin ? 0! cofia di mai gyda ni Oedd angen dyn fel Hathren.' "v Mae'r gwanwyn heddyw yn y glyn Yn siarad yn mhob deilen; Fel cododd Crist o'i fedd yn wyn Fe gyfyd nerthoedd Hathren. O! oofia'r plant, fy Nhad! fy Nuw I 0 dan y ddwys helygen, A chofia am y weddw friw Sy'n gorfod byw heb Hathren. Bydd Di, 0 Dad! yn Dwr i'w dal A'u cynal yn mhob angen, A chymorth ni i gvd-ymddwyn Er mwyn y ffyddlon Hathren. Gelhonen. ALFA. -:0:-

PENNILLION | A ddarlleawyd yn nghyfarfod croeaawol y brawd ieuanc, Mr. Roger G. Thomas, mab Mr. W. R. Thomas, Y.H., Treharris, ar ei ddych- weliad o Awstralia, yr hwn a gynaliwyd yn Mrynbyfryd, Treharris, nos Fercher, Chwef. 9, 1910, Croesaw gartref, Roger Thomas! Daeth y dyddiau maitb i ben, I ddychwelyd o Awstralia Eto'n ol i Gymru wen; Hiraeth blin oedd yn Nhrebarria Wrth ffarwelio i fyn'd ffwrdd, Ond llawenydd pur, digymysg, Heno sy'n sirioli'r cwrdd. Am wlad bell gadawodd gartref, Ond nid fel 'r afradlon gynt- Yn gwasgaru ei feddiannau Yn ddiystyr gyda'r gwynt. Fe fu Roger yn gwasgaru A'i holl egni mewn gwlad Wl- Gwasgar rhinwedd a daioni, Er gwneyd pawb o'i gylch yn well. Ami bolid trwy'r gym'dogaeth, "Sut mae Roger 'n dod yn mla'n?" A'r attebion am ei lwyddiant Wnelent ein sirioli'n lan. iod Roger yn pregethu- Dyma newydd braf, on'te? Ond daw cwestiwn arall wed'yn, "Y dy' e'n son am ddod tua thre'1". Todda.i'r teimlad oer o'i goili, 'Nawr yn llyn o hirafeth byw Am ei weled yn dychwelyd Etto'n ol i Walia i fyw; I/iifai'r dagrau dros y glannau 'N ffrydiau gloewon dros y lie, A phob ffrwd furmurai'r cwestiwn, "Pryd da.w Roger tua thre' ?" Mae llawenydd cyffredinol Trwy Treharris heno'n wir; Pawb yn estyn Haw mor gynes I roi iddo "welcome" pur; Hen ac ieuainc yn Mrynhyfryd, Quaker's Yard a Forest Road, Welir am y mwyaf siriol Am fod Roger wedi d'od. "Welcome home!" a glywir yma, "Welcome home!" a glywir draw: "Welcome home yn llawn cynesrwydd, Gyda eel o wasgiad lIaw; "Welcome home, my Christian brother," Yw dymuniad teulu Duw; "Welcome home" i frawd deilynga Ein croesawiad cynes yw. Ond beth yw llawenydd ardal, llawenydd yn y Bryn, At lawenydd y Tymhordy Ar ddycbweliad Roger Glyn? Tad, a mam, a chwaer sydd yma 'N gorfoleddu'n ddedwydd iawn; Ar ol myn'd trwy for o bryder Y teulu etto'n Uawn. Nawdd y Nef f'o etto'n aros I gysg-odi'n hanwyl frawd: Heulwcn glir, ddigwmwl Ilwyddiant Weno arno trwy ei rawd; Y spryd Duw f'o yn ei arwain Ar y ffordd wrth fyn'd yn Gras y Nef f'o yn ei nerum Yn ngwasanaeth Iesu Glan. Treharris. CEIBIOBYDD. I

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POET'S CORNER. THE TASK. Once Joy came tapping at my door, And gaily forth we went our way; But Joy would loiter far behind While I gave all my thought to play So then I bade Joy follow me Where waited task, and, side by side, We went with burden light between Uplifted, through the world so wide. Then Sorrow crossed our onward path; I set the burden down and wept, And Joy trailed far behind, while I With Sorrow lonoly vigil kept. Then back I crept, and once again Life'? task took up with grieving eye, While Sorrow lagged, and with God's help Joy may come nearer by and by.

"It is my only chance, too," she murmured under her breath "they saw me, and if they find me here and you gone, they will know I warned you. And they will have no mercy on a white woman who has helped negroes to es- cape." "Ah, this is worse still," he muttered, trem- bling violently, and yet understanding as in a flaili the position in which she had placed her- self in order to help them. "There is not a minute to lose, he said, giving him her hand again. "But your grandfather," he still argued; "he will save you at least?" "He would not have the power," she answer- ed "these are lynchers, and lynchers ere not men, but wild beasts. They cannot be reas- oned with—they destroy; that is all." "Can we get horses?" he asked "No," she answered, "they are all. in the pature, and that is in full sight of the lynchers. Oh, everything has been thought of, down even to preventing their being horses for your es- cape." "It has been well arranged," he said; "1 think there is no hope." "Nor I," she answered. After that, they said nothing, but went, with such speed as they could, towards the south- west, the opposite direction to that whence the lynchers were coming. They soon overtook Mr. Hetherington, who had hurried on, and Eira directed them, so that they took a path screen- ed by a bluff which was bigger than most, and contained a row of tall poplars that for a long time would hide them from the farm. Then, when they were within eyeshot of the farm again, she showed them a ravine, whose course they followed. It was not very deep, but it was enough to save them from being seen. Far behind them they heard a sound of shout- ing and the screaming of women and children. "They are searching the negroes' shanties," said Eira; "I don't suppose they will hurt anyone, but the people are frightened," They hurried on 2.t the best of their speed, Mr. Hetherington always a. little ahead of Eira and Hugh, who followed hand in hand. Behind them a colmun of thin smoke rose to the cloudless blue of the sky. "They are firing the hay," said Eira, "and perhaps grandfather'? house as well." The ravine they were following turned abruptly at right angles; end they, going straigkt on. had to trust themselves to the open prairie. j "The pursuit will have begun in earnest now," said Eira, and, pointing ahead, she add- ed "You see that hill where the bush begins? If we can reach there we may be able to hide among the tuees, if they have no dogs with them. Perhaps we hall be able to reach the railroad track beyond. If we do reach the rail- road, we may perhaps stop a train by showing a danger signal Then we shall be safe, for j we ca.n ask ;0 he given in charge of the police at Bismark Pant" "They wiii u- fhrst." said Hugh. "Yes, I tliirsir so she agreed. "What will tasr do to us if they asked Mr. ■Hether.in.<r>>:>. • [ "Oh, they rot hurt us," said Eira, but she looked over her. shoulder at whero the smoke hung hsavT over Siddle's farm. j "When we io the bush." said Hugh, think you mnsfc .?« us. You will be safer alone; and I »:ctay a little behind, and if they catch mo up < mav give them a littls to think about fo; t., tiraí! "Can you Scht a thousand?" she asked. "It j would be folly to try." but she liked bim the j better for his hcacl thrown back and his o-ear flashing eye. "Oar only hope is speed." the said. On the open prairie there was no deienon j from the beams of the sun. They toiled and i panted on, every step an effort, with labouring j breath and strainirur muscles, but yet urged by such a fear M would not allow them a se- cond's pause.. Behind them that thin column of smoke they had seen first had now grown } into a cloud thick and dark and heavy, like a black canopy of threat between the land and the blue depth of the sky. Of the lynchers shemsolves the^e was as yet no sign, but in front the hill and the trees to- j wards which they toiled seerhod as far distant as ever—seemed even to reoede. j The cruellest thin of rill was the barreness of the prairie that afforded these poor fugitives j no shelter or conoealmcnt anywhere. They J felt themselves conspicuous upon it, and knew | that miles away they could be seen with' per- i fect clearness: When at last, an hour later, { they came to another ravine, they blessed it as j they entered it. But this ravine, too, came to an end. and there lay yet another stretch of bare prairie be- tween them and the bush, that was compara- tively near now. "We must rush it," said Eira. "Can we run again ?" "I can't," panted Mr. Hetherington, and then pointing at Eira, as if her presence h"d just struck him: "Why is she with us?" he asked. "She brought us warning," said Hugh, rather angrily, "if we escape we shall owe her our lives. She would have been quite safe if she j had not tried to help us." "More fool she." grumbled Mr. Hethering- j ton. "I'm going to run." j He set off at a run accordingly—a clumsy, awkward run, with lurches sidewavs at times, as though he could hardly keep lib balance, j He never once looked, back at Hugh and Eira, j who followed after him at their beet speed. I It was like a nightmare, this wild rush over the prairie towards the bush that promised I them at some chance of safety and con- ) cealment." The sun was now iaoving towards its setting, but its slanting rlys still struck fiercely; the distance seemed; interminable nothing moved or stirred save themselves; their haste seemed an insult to the silence and soli- tude of the untroubled prairie, and even to stir up against them on its part a malignity it showed by making them plain from afar to their enemie=. Mr. Hetherington reached the bush a quarter of a mile before t.hem. and vanished within it. At last Hugh and Eira reached it also, and paused panting beneath the shade of a clump of poplars, the furthest flung outpost of the wood. I "At last," Hugh said. Eira turned and looked behind them. There. I just emerging from the head of the ravine they had themselves followed, was a light buggy driven by one man. I "Has he seen us?" Eira asked. "God know- said Hugh. Eira looked again, and then slid softly to the ground. J "I can do no more," she said, "they must find me here." Hugh looked down at her. It was plain she was far too eshausted to be able to carry out the plan he had formed, of her making her es- cape alone, while he stayed to draw the pur- suers on his own scent. He looked again over I the prairie. A man on horseback had now followed the buggy from the ravine, and both were coming towards the bush There issued from the ravine another man on horseback, and then another, and all took the same way. Huorh stooped and picked the half unconsci- ous Eira up. and then he kissed her, and hold- ing her in his arms he plunged into the depths of the bush. (To be continued.)