The Merthyr Express

POET'S CORNER. EDWARD VII.THE PEACEMAKER." To-day we mourn the loss of one Who did our joys increase,— Whose thoughts were led, whose life was spent Along the ways of peaoe: Whose geniaJ face and sunny smile, Whose goings to and fro, Whose gentle touch, and kindly word, Subd'ued the foreign foe. His country was his one concern, Her welfare he sought; His country was 1ms daily care,— His one absorbin- thought; No effort did he to keep His people free from strife: His kingship Was to him a trust, That meant for him his life. Whate'er the cause that made for peace. That nations might agree, That cause would 1;01:) his full supporti What-o'er tho cauc: might be; So well ho knew tli^ price of war, To subject and t- State, That he, for i)-cac- did surely feel No sacrifice too great. Kings have come, and kings have gone, But never have we seen A king whose heart was bnt on peace As muoh as his has been His life was full of ways and means, Of this we have no doubt, To get the nations of the world At peace, both in and out His work is o'er, his course is run. We've laid him down to rest; The King of Kings lias called him home He sleeps upon His breast. The peace of God be with us all— Be with us to the end- That man to man, throughout the world, May be a truer friend. Gellifaelog. Edwabd Williams.

THE PEARL NECKLACE (A Story of a Mysterious Robbery), BY ARTHUR APPLIN, Author of "The Chorus Girl," "The Stage Door," "Van "Dylk Diamonds," "The Butcher of Bruton-street," etc., etc. CHAPTER XI-(Continued.) Descending the stairs she caught sight of Sir Reginald Villette sitting where she had left him ;n the corner of the oak settle, crushed and broken, his head between his hands The horrible thing which she had done she would do again if necessary! There was no- thing she would not do for love's sake, to win and to keep the man on whom her heart was setnothing, nothing. She found it necessary to reassure herself on this point, to remind herself that. even though it were possible, she would not undo what she done acne. But—she v.oulJ make amends. She reached th3 hall, and then she saw the ma.n for wltoru she had sunk so low, lower than she herself realised. He was standing a little distance from Sir Reginald; hia face waa not pleasant to look upon. Its no use talking," Villette waa saying in a tired, broken voioe, as if replying to Harvey. "It's very kind of you-I know you are trying to convince yourself as well as me, but it's use. less, my dear fellow, useless." There was a pause, and Miriam's heart seemed to stand still for an instant; the o!d man was shaking with sobs. It was terrible, and Miriam had never heard a man cry be- fore She stood on the last step of the stair- case shivering at the sound And then her lips parted and she almost cried aloud and confessed what she had done. The words hovered on her lips, bu" there thev died. Sir Reginald, with an effort, controlled him- self and spoke again. "You have behaved finely, Harvey," he s'i jched out. one trembling hand towards Har- vey "Though you tried hard to hide the truth from me, though just now you tried to take all the blame upon yourself." Again emotion smothered his voice. "But I see it all to clearly. My boy gambled—^it's in the Villette blood; I can't blame him, but if he had only told me! But h3 preferred to steal! Ruth must have known. Oh, my God At that moment Miriam came forward, if she listened longer she knew she would shriek aloud. She went straight to Sir Reginald anrj knelt by his side and put her hands on his shoulder, she dared not raise his head for she would have been afra'd to look into his face. I Judas!" her conscience cried, but she re- fused to listen. She was not acting; her heart; bled for the old man, and though she had brought this wreckage into his life, she wa. able honestly to pity that which she hurt so grievously. "Sir Reginald !"—he shuddered at the sound of her voice, but otherwise made no movement nor gave jMy sign—"If you are thinking evil thought! of either of your children you ale j doing them a terrible injustice." He laughed stupidly, and Harvey stepped forward as if to take Miriam away, but she waved him back. "You, too," Villette mumbled, "you have come to comfort with me lies." "No, it's the truth," she cried, quickly. as if to unburden herself and silence for a mo the voice of conscience which now seemed f i) shriek loud epithats at her. "I am to bkj; and I a.lone. I dropped my necklace last • night Sir Reginald tried to stop her. and Harvey made a gesture as if to warn her it v/as hope- less, but she refused to keep silent, e-he had .to speak, she could. not watch the old man's sufferings. "You know how horribly careJess I am," she continued. "It's possible last night when I went into Ruth's room that I put my ii!t necklace into her jewel case. That's just what I must have done," she cried, as if sudden!v inspired. She jumped to her feet. "It will b;i &U right, Sir Reginald, of course I knew it would be all right." But John Harvey stopped her. laying a hand heavily on her shoulder. And the colour flood- ed her face. Because she loved him she iVored him; she bowed her head waiting for him to speak. "It's useless," he whispered: "besides, it would be dangerous to say or do anything fur- ther now. It's best to leave it just a mystery for the present—that is to say, if you have no objection ?" "I?" she stammered. "What do you mean?'' "The neoklaoe is yours; you are the onlr sufferer." "I, the only sufferer She was trembling, and was it shame which made her cheeks so red. Yet she kept her lips closed. She loved; the man she loved was standing by her side, holding her tightly. And th--ri was no looking back, no regretting what bad done or any thought of confessing it. She could win him now; indeed, she bad almost won him-and she knew it. And so she waited. Harvey turned towards Sir ReginaJd. "I suppose it would be impossible for you to join the guns before luncheon ?" Slowly the old man raised his head and looked at his guest with startled eves. "What are you talking about? The gu" —his eyes roamed around the deserted hall- "the guests, where are they? I don't suppose my guests ever want to see me again ? They've all gone. And you had better go, too, Harvey, and you, Miriam! This house is no plaoe for either of you." "You had better go to your room and lie down, then," Harvey continued, speaking in an even steady voice, as though nothing untoward had occurred. "With your permission, I'll get the men together and we'll start the shoot at once. Miriam. will you find the ladies-e" He used her Christian name unconeciously, then hesitated and apologised. But. smilingly, she stretched out her hand, and he took it-and held it tightly. And she thrilled at the touch and her eyes filled with tears, she knew not why. For joy and sorrow, shame and delight, were fighting for mastery of her soul. "When you have found the women," Harvey continued, "you'll- get them to carry out the usual programme—drive or walk across the hills and meet us with luncheon." Miriam nodded, and her eyes were bright now. She dared give him one quick glance; joy was winning, she refused to admit shame or fear. Already he had turned to her, was asking for help and suppcrt. She nodded: "I understand. But what abcti* Michael?" Harvey glanced at Sir Reginald and frowsed. "Wait for me hare." he whispered; "I wjn't be long." Bending down, he helped the old man to his feet, and taking him by the arm led him away towards his room. And Miriam waited in the hall until he re- turned. She walked up and down nervously. It was curious how she had spoken a moment ago without thinking, and unconsciously con- fessed the truth. She bad said that she put the pearl necklace into Ruth's jewel case! She had only to tell that story everywhere, to insist on it whilst she laughed at the absurd scene which her carelessness had caused, for everyone to believe her, everyone except per- haps the one whose opinion mattered. And her conscience would be purged. "What are you going to do?" Harvey was standing by her side, holding o.it both hands to her; timidly she took them, and lie led her to the o!d oak settle, and they sat down side by side, alone. "You have no idea how this happened?" Har vey asked. Miriam nodded her head. "I have told you. When I undressed last night I-or Ruth—must have put my pearls into her case by mistake. Our rooms cdjoin, you see; it would be so oasy. That's what happened. And so Michael this morning.* quite unconscious of wh:j he was doing, too!: ihem awav with liis s'r-rl jewels. It's terrib'c thnyou. were U.;u' as not to rea'ij.e thij bvore," she ing more quickly. "Is i likely h:) would have opened the box at the gamekeeper's lod!Ta and shown Lila my necklace! The idea's absurd!" "For God's sake stop," Harvey cried. Don't you sec every word you If,T tn&ktt tht cuo worse, a thousand times worse. I wish to h:avcn Michael had stolen them-rather than she!" Miriam had edged further away from Har- vey. "You don't mean that you think Ruth she stammered. "What else can I think?" he groaned. "And you—you know. Oh, yes, you do; though you a.re trying to deceive us all." She started guiltily and moved further away until she was sitting at the far end of the settle. "Mike found those pearls last night; the footman saw him pick them up outside your door; he must have given them to his sister, and she-" His voice broke; he buried his face in his hands. The silence was unbearable now, even though it lasted but a few seconds. Miriam was foited to say something: "Wait until you've seen Michael. Besides I've told you, I put them into Ruth's jewel- case myself." John Harvey raised his head and looked at her. Then be came closer to her, keeping his eyes on her eyes, and she was frightened. The blood roddened her cheeks one moment, and the next left them white. She looked at- him even as he looked at her, though her two hands as he held, them shook as with an ague. Then presently, to her surprise, to her shame, and to her great joy, be bent his head and kissed both her hands. "Thank you for that lie. It's magnificent of you." "It's not a lie," she faltered, "and everyone must know." He till kept his eyes on her face; he pulled her closer to him; and her strength had gone now and she lowered her lashes, afraid lest he knew it was the truth which she spoke! Though her own were hidden, she knew his eyes were devouring her, hungrily and eagerly. "Are you prepared to tell everyone what you've just told mo?1' be whispered. "Of course." His grip on her hands hurt, but she was grateful for I he pain: "Miriam, you're magmfioent. Thank God. But we ni): i: manage to treat the whole affair lightly. Sir Reginald and Michael will be the difficulty. If you could only make them be- lieve—" "I'll try," she said. Still closer lie drew her until she felt his breath on her face, his body close to her body "Look at me," he demanded. She shook her head, she dared not; his eyes were honest, his heart was clean. He would not know tho meaning of treachery. It was the d'shonour of the woman he loved that had won him for Miriam. And if he looked into her eyes he might read her dishonour. "You must love your friend very much," he said presently, "to make so great a sacrifice for her. I didn't know any woman was cap- able of such love." "It isn't that," she cried with sudden passion, dragging her hands away and rising to her feet. "You mustn't say tha.t." "Then what is it?" he aike<J, rising and fol- lowing. "It is-tlio truth I've told you." He laughed scornfully under his breath. "It's no use trying to deceive me; instead, we've both got to deceive the otheri. We must look truth in the face, Miriam; there are no secrets between us now. If you're not telling this lie for t.he sake of your friend and making this sacrifice for her, you must tell me why you are doing it." She hurried to the foot of the staircase, but he would not let her go. "It's for Ruth's sake," she cried, as he blocked, the way. "Now let me pass." She gave him ons quick glance as reluc- tantly ho stood aside, and in that glanoo she threw all the passion which tormented and con- sumed her. And John Harvey stood quite still, and watched her out of sight. A long time he stood, deep in thought, staring -across the hall through the open door, out. into the sun- light. Miriam Egglington loved him. For The mo- ment the knowledge overwhelmed him. Then he commenced to ecarrh his OW" heart. She loved him, yet he had ten the other woman—the woman who carc< little for him as to sell her honour and her cood name on the very night of their betrothal. Shouldering his gun, he went out into the garden and collected the men together, and then, giving Grimmett a message from Sir Reginald, a start was made for tho coverts. To each man in turn be told the story of the mys- tery of Miriam's necklace, believing in his heart that he lied. And each man believed that he lied, too. So rare and timid, a. b<rd is truth that when UI). 0 expectcdiy site comes there are few who recog- nise. her. CHAPTER XII. Miriam had confessed the truth, and, as she h.id foreseen, it had been accepted as a lie; one of those white lies wluch noble natures some- times proudly tell. Harvey was, she knew, busily passing the confession of her guilt-from lip to lip, and .very man and woman who heard it would believe she had made the confession in order to save her friend; and in their hearts they would envy her secretly, whilst with their lips they would noisily praise her But no, one would believe that aforethought she had really placed her necklace in-, Miriam Villette's jewel case. Miriam sat alone in the library, turning over -.n • her mind her conversation with John Har. vey At one moment the thought, which rushed through her brain set her heart beating fur- iously and made the blood. hot in her veins, and filled her whole being with deiight; at an- other momenf she felt icv cold, fear whitened her lips, and sham? made her tremble when she heard the sound of voices from the garden and in imgaination she heard again Ruth's cry of anguish. There was a. certain grim humour in the fact that she had told the truth to eavc herself, and io lay the guilt on her friend. She walked up and down the room, now and. again pausing to iobk through the windows; thoughts swept her brain and flooded her being like waves on t.he sea shore. She would have stoppe<f think- ing if she could, and have just waited for time to complete her work, but she was impatient a.nd nervous. She looked at the clock and was horrified to 5ndit was only half-past twelve; the past three ht>urs. had been like the half of a lifetime. Miriam began to realise she was very tired, physically and mentally. Half the day had yet to be lived and the major portion of the night. She would have to face the guests, to faoe envy and malice whilst she smiled and played the pan. of heroine. .Most difficult task of all, she would have to faco Ruth. and that at once Fear increased, surrounding her on all sides, until the library seemed full of ghostly shapes threatening her Even Jove was ousted, and shame no longer taunted her; only fear lest she was found out, and nausea of the work which lay before her, the evil which she still had to tio.. She had forgotten how the tempation first came. She had done the deed on a mad im- puke, driven to it by a mad love, refusing to think of the consequenoes; but now she saw th.?m all. they stretched out before her in a long, long line. She had thought that the dod once done, and the man lured from her rival's side, there would be no more to do; the episode would soon è3 forgotten, and she would find sonto way of making amends. But she had bean wrong. The hideous thing she had done a handful of hours ago was micro- scopic .in comparison,to thebidoeolA; things she would "have to do durimg the netft few days— perhaps during the next few weeks or months. She dared not think further. It was not just the lie she had acted that appalled her, but the lie she was living, the numerous unrehearsed lies she would live and act hourly 1 A dozen ghostly characters strutted before her-parte, waiting to be played—Judas, De- lilah, Jezebel. She had not yet won John Harvey, and the betrayal of her friend had only just commenced The real work had yet to be don. "I can't do it-I can't do it," Miriam cried aloud in anguish, suddenly contrite. The family portraits of the Villettes looked coldly at her from the wall, their eyes followed her wherever she moved, sho oould not escape them. They knew her secret and the evil she bad wrought upon the family whose honour in the past they had so proudly upheld. Remorse drove her from the room; and though now she would willingly have turned back, it was too late; she foutnd herself being driven forward, blindly, to complete her evil work. Once again she listened outside Ruth's bed- room door, and she heard the voioes of brother and eister clearly. A long time she hesitated, her hand on the handle of the door waiting to enter, yet afraid. At last she knocked and entered. MicEael was still kneeling by the bed, but directly he heaird the rustle of Miriam's skirts he jumped to his feet, and, turning, faced her. I "You can't come in," he said bluntly; "we want to be left alone." "Then I'll go," Miriam replied, gently. But first there ig something I must say to Ruth." "Ifs too late," he laughed hysterically; "or too early. Nothing that can be said now will make any difference." "Wait a moment," Miriam continued. She "took a deep breath, and the flickering lashes veiled her eyes. She dared not open the gates of her soul when once again she turned truth into a lie. And this would be the final test; unless Ruth's faith in her were indeed built upon a rock she might suspect. "Well?" Michael said, impatiently. "I'm entirely to blame Jor what has happen- ed. And I have explained to your father and to Mr. Harvey; indeed, all the guests know now." I Again Michael forced a laugh, hard and bitter. "I understand; it's very good of you, but, as I said, it's too late." "It's not too late," Miriam replied, quickly. "Everything is going on just a? if nothing ex- traordinary had occurred. The men are shoot- ing; tj^py expect you to meet them at lunch. Thoy all krow now-that in a fit of absent- mindedness I put my nccklaco in your sister's j :wel ca. ? last ni«*hr." Micha«! fippror.ched her, 1 -il Mirai.i held out ,r lx, ..I to step Slic fr't si > wo,il(i never bear anyone near her again, lest they "aw the nak-=rl truth through the cloak of lies with which sha had cleverly covered it. "Is that what you've told them?" Michael ,f 11)2 y thnik ioys iH" He shrugged his shoulders. "I thought hard thoughts and evil things of you, almost believ- ed—perhaps I misjudged you; I am sorry!" He held out his hand, and though Miriam made an effort she cou'd not take it, her own were unclean, and, if she clasped his, he might see the stains. "You won't shake hands," he said, between his teeth. With a great effort she raised her hand, he took it, and she quivered at the contact. Then she stumbled from the room downstairs and out into the rarden. Collecting the guests, she started them on the road to the hill where luncheon v/as waiting, whilst laughingly, yet with many apologies, she told them how the mystery had been solved, and how the extra- ordinary affair had arisen from her own care- lessness. And the women chorused approval, laughing and chattering appreciation that the tragedy had been turned into comedy. "Yet it was embarrassing," said one. "In fact, I was just going to tell my maid she had better pack my boxes!" "I thought it was all a joke from tho start, chirruped another. "I mean, though Alicht,. is only a boy, he is much too well-bred to mak. a scene. Still, when Ruth fainted I didn't know what to think!" "But, my dear, it is really unpardonable of you," a dowager yawned to Miriam, "the way you leave your jewels about—enough to tempt anyone who's hard up. Upon my word, if I found them I should keep them! If you're as careless with your jewels when you're married, you'll probably find your husband will send thorn to the bank and keep them there." Miriam laughed, and walked quickly ahead to hidfe her embarrassment When she was married? That was the goal for which she was aiming; that was the goal to reach wihc? he must now use every en- deavour-to r it quickly, quickly, ere it was too ]at? to win him, John Harvey, whether through love, pity, or admiration. Directly she was his wife they would hurry far away to strange lands, where this horrible nightmare would be forgotten, wiped out, ob- literated for ever. And she would start life afresh with the dreams that had once been her's, and the love which she had desired to passionately and for which she had paid so high a prioe. (To be conttinued.)

FOR MATRON AND MAID. I DON'T ALWAYS GRUMBLE. I You may be a terrible sufferer, but once get a reputation for being a grunter, and not the agonies of appendicitis or an exposed nerve will win you sympathy. A grunting child, as a grunting adult, is such a nuisance that parents cannot be too care- ful in breaking up the complaining habit be- fore it is fairly started. Such things are, after all, more or less a matter of training, and it should be just as easy for a child to bear a mo- derate amount of pain in silence as when howl- ing at the top of nis voice. No mother need frown upon complaints so that a child can become dangerously ill before attention is paid to its needs, and no one need go to the length of ridiculing hurts until a little one fears to mention when things are wrong. HER REAL TRAININGr The average mother is so busy trairung her children that she forgets what an important matter she overlooks when she neglects to train herself. By a sort of preconceived idea! handed down from mother to daughter, little girl-children look forward to marriage as the end and aim of their existence. From the time they are in short frocks they talk of what they intend to do "when they get married." The feminine in them sees nothirig but a de- licious blank the other side of the deciding day. But it does not always work out that there it, nothing but a delicious blank the other side of the wedding day. On the contrary, the green grapes only just begin to ripen vrhen the young girl enters for the first time the kingdom <?f j her own home, and under the shadow of sur- roundings built and created by personal toil will the true wine of her nature gradually become matured. 1 BE ENTHUSIASTIC. Just look at it'in this way. If your circum- stances can be changed by any effort on your part, then change them, if not, resolve to face bravely the inevitable. The «nrl who is trying to rriake the best of things should cultivate above all enthusiasm and interest. She will find herself in touch with interest. She will find herself in touch with others almost before she realises the changc. Tact and sympathy, too, are valuable assets. Did you ever notice that the morbid girl is not only selfish, but that her selfishness often leads to lack of manners? CHILDREN NEVER FORGET. sometime., the process of growing up and of becoming the mother of a family destroys a. woman's sense of humor. That is bad enough for those who have to live with her. but, if she loses her sense of fairness, that is a real calamity. It is a great mistake to think that a child is an unreasoning being. Little ones are very wise. They size up, their ^arent$^r*jhiu £ h 'tfcie- same way as do grown-up acquaintances, and thev act accordingly. ,ly. Nothing so turns a child against its mother as injustice. Too many women console them- selves when they have acted unfairly with the thought that the child will forget when it is older. But the child does not, and many a 16- year-old daughter will not confide in her mo- ther at the time when she needs her mot.be- cause that mother. destroyed her confidence when she was a tiny tot. Mothers no longer stand on a pedestal as if they could do no wrong. That. happy time has passed away. In order to receive love and re- spect nowadays they must be good and worthy mothers.. DRESSMAKING. Neatness is always a requisite of erood sew- ing, and besides the fact that durability is in creased, there is a satisfaction in .knowing that the inside of a garment need not be vith- held from a critical eye. Binding seams is a little thing, but most effectual in the attainment of the neatness that marks the careful fewer." If it is. difficult to adjust binding, the edges of seams can be pinked-a method in favour with tailors. There is no fraying of the edges, and the bulky line 'is obviated. Hems of heavy material can be successfully and neatly finished if the raw edge of just one turn be stitched down underneath a pliable tape. Two row3 of stitching are necessary, but the schema is worth a triaL HINTS FOR THE HOME. Keeping Rooms Dry.—To keep a room dry when not in use, stand a baking tin or bucket filled with dry hme in it, and keep the room airtight. The lime will absorb all dampness, and there will be no need of fires. To Rid a Room of Flies and Insects.-If you are annoyed with flies in your room, soak a sponge in oil of lavender, and tie it to th^ top of your bed. or on something where it will not mark. Flies hate the smell of lavender, and will not approach it. Polish that has been Used for Yea.ra.-l oz. beeswax and oz. white wax. Cut into thin shreds and dissolve in one pint of turpentine. It will require to be stirred occasionally while dissolving. Apply with a piece of flannel and polish with a dry soft duster. To Clean a Black Bowler Hat, the brim of which is very greasy, is very simple. All that is necessary is to hold the Drim of the hat in front of the fire for a few minutes, when the felt will become soft and absorb the grease. Care must be taken to keep the brim of the hat in proper shape while tho hat is cooling. This has been proved a success on several oc- casions. CAKES AND PUDDINGS.—No. 28. The following recipe makes a delicious cake, very rich and suitab!e for icing. RICH GENOA CAKE- 1 packet of Calceoma, "I.. 6 ozs. of Butter. L'I 6 Eggs. 8 ozs. of Currants, 8 ozs. of Sultanas. 8 o of Candied PeeL METHOD. Rub together the Cakeoma and butter until a,3 fine as bread crumbs. Beat up the eggs and lightly mix them with the, flour and butter then add the fruit and peel, and complete the mixing lightly but thoroughly. Bake in a mod- erate oven. ftext week a Genoese Cake recipe. Recipe book will be sent post free on request to Latham and Co., Ltd., Liverpool. Cakeoma is eold only in 3d. packets by Grooore and Stores everywhere.

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS, ONLY A BABY SMALL. Only a baby small, dropt from the skies; Only a laughing face, two sunny eyes; Only two cherry lips, one chubby nose; Only two little hands, ten little toes. Only a golden head, curly and soft; Only a tongue that wags loudly and oft; Only a little brain, empty of thought; Only a little heart troubled with nought. Only a tender floifer sent us to rear, Only a life to love while we are here, Only a baby small, never at rest, Small, but how dear to us, God knotvoth best. TO DO THE RIGHT. Do no sinful action, Speak no angry word. Ye belong to Jesus, Children of the Lord. Christ. is bnd Ild gntIe, CiiriM b pure end true, And Hij Utile children Musi Lo kcly. too. Ye are new-born Christians. Ye must learn to fight With the bad within vou, 9 tQ S H+. Ûih.!

Y 60L0FN_ 6YMREIG. CYWYDD "Y BOREU." -Oywydd tra rhagorol. Y mae ei gynlluniad a'i weithiad allan yn glir, naturiol, a chanmoladwy. Hyny yw, y darfel- yddiad yn chwaethus, a.'r mynegiant yn syml a choethedig. D. LLOYD GEORGE, Ysw., A.S., etc.—Cyfan- soddwyd y pennillion hyn gan Mr. J M. Jones, Oakland, California, pan ar ei wely angeu. Cyflwynodd hwynt i'w hen gyfaill, Mr. Thomas Jenkins, Oakland (gynt o Ddowlais), yr hwn a'u hanfonodd at ein cyfaill, Mr. E. Oartwright, Dowlais. "IFOR MORLAIS" YN Fi FEDD.-Chwith lawn oedd genym glywed am symudiad sydyn rjin hen gyfaill. Yr wythno6 flaenorol buom yn oael ychydig ymgom ag ef, fel y byddem yn ami yn arfer gael pan gwrddem, ar ein gwib- deithiau. Byddai ganddo rhyw ddyrys-bwnc yn myd awen a chan, neu ar randir llenydd- iasth, oisiau ei egluro bob amser pan gwrddem. Achwynai ar sefyllfa ei iechyd ers tro, ond i ychydig feddyliem fod y diwedd mor agos. Hoffem ef yn fawr. Cawsom ef bob amser yn: siriol, yn foddlongar, ac yn ddi-hooed. Pe. cawsai "Ifor" ragorach addysg a diwylliant yn moreu ei oes, diameu y buasai wedi disgleirio yn fwy arolwg yn myd lien ac awen. Fel yr. oedd, ffrydiai ami i ddernyn tlws a thoddedig aUan o'i galon haelfrydig. Y BRENIN IORWEBTH.- Y mae beirdd fel pobl eraili yn hyn-wedi marw'n teyrn y gwelwn eii <iaiau. Y mae yna agwedd arall l'r pwnc, er ifyny, 6ydd yn gwireddu yr adnod, "Oni syrth y gronyqn gwenith," etc. Nid bywyd wedi ei golli ydyw bywyd ein diweddar Frenin. Ctfarchiad i MR. D L. W.- Y T ydym bron a'ch credu nad ydych wedi "derbyn yr alwad" at y gwaith o brydyddu, os oes "galwad" felly i'w chael. Neu, ai nid ateb allan o'L-h tro wnaethoch? Mae'n bur sicr fod rhywbeth allan o le, onide buasech wedi cael rhywfaint o gym. wysder at y gwaith. Gwell fyddai i chwi JIII- dawelu am dymhor, a bod yn barod i ateb yr alwad pan ddaw, pe na ddeuai am fil o flyn- yddau. -:0:- IORWERTH Y SEITHFED. Ein por uniawn, pur ei enau--ydoedd "Edward," ami ei riniau: Astud hwn oedd gwastadhau Ynfydawl anghydfodau. Abarcwmboi. ALAW SYLEN. -:o: MAI. Diweddu annedwyddiad—ydyw myg Fwriad Mai yn wastad; Hyddewr fynn roi'r ddaear fad Dan haeddol Edeneiddiad. Gollwng wna'n ddilesg allan-hael anrheg Boddlonrwydd i bobman, 1 Rhed i'w gyrch fel hyfryd gan, Rywiog hudlef o'r gcedlan. Cwmtaf. Aeronydd. — o: IFOR MORLAIS YN EI FEDD. Mawrlef am Ifor Morlais-drfiddia Drwy huddol fro Dowlais; Bu a'i folawd heb falais Yn ein tref yn erbyn trais. 'Parodol fu fel prydydd-i esgyn Fel ysgafn ehedydd; Gyda'i gan hyd dorian dydd- Hlawdd ocdai yno'n ddewydd. Ffrwyth ei ddawn yn llawn er Ilos-brofwyo H3b ryfyg na rhodres: Ar ci daith deorai des, A'i ganiad oedd yn gynes. Dianaf a-th drwy'r afon—o'i dywydd Yn davrel a boddlon O'r hylif dwfn, yr olaf don A'i gyrodd i gael ef. goron. Nid tewi yn y tywod—wna y bardd, Mae'n bur a di-isorod; Ei yrfa nid yw yn darfod-,viiia. Ar frvniau Gwynfa mae'i freiniog hanfod. Penydarren. R. G. o;—7— DEIGRYN HIRAETH Ar ol Mr. John Jenkins (Ifor Morlaifk- Llawn o ofid yw fv nghalon Ar ol colli oyfaill g-wir, Fu'n fy 'ffoTddi mown treialoi Chwerw, llym, yr anial dir: Dyro, awen fwyn, enneiniog, Gymorth imi seinio can, Fel bo'm henaid prudd, 1 mlwythog, Yma'n trechu'm dagra 'an. Pwy o feirdd y cylch, dy--odwch, Sydd heb ddagrau ar on vrudd? Cydymdeimlad a dyngarwch Ffrydiant allan yma'n rhydd; Nid oes un na chydymdeimla A phi ant hoff fy nestyn gwiw; 'Hedodd ffwrdd em Pencerdd anwyl— Pruddaidd destyn imi yw. Yma bu yn ymarweddu, Gan ddioddef cystudd blin Ond mor siriol oedd tra'n taenu Ei gynghorion fel y gwin 'Nawr yn fud y mae yn gorwedd— F' hen gyrtghorwr, yn y gro; Ond nid a ei fri a'i fawredd, l Na'i pyrnghorion, f £ th. o'm (CO*. L "ÓgYD dlawd ei amgylchiadau, Gwir g.vfoethog oedd nieswn dawa I brydyddu-plethaj eiriau Mewn pennillion disglaer iawn; Pkthodd aml'i englyn gloew, Canodd beunydd ar ei rawd, Am y nefol wlad, yn hoew, Ac am lesu'n Ffrynd a Brawd. Huno wnaeth mewn poen a b'inde' Ond deffrodd cyn huno'n hir- Y11 y wiad He 'roedd ei hyder, Drarr ar fryniau'r Ganaan glir. Gwn oi fod mewn cwmni breiniol- CT/mni'r Ocn—ei lesu mad— Ac yn pnoli'r lor tragwyddol, I Uwch prb seraph, gyda'i Dad. Penydarren. J. Faim o: D. LLOYD GEORGE, Yaw., A. S. (ALrhydddUl) Ganghellydd Trysoriys Prydain Fawr.) DeT7r Lloyd George sydd hardd gad-flaenor A r ei dalgryf fapch, Egwyddor, Chwifio wna ar dwr y gad-ddor, Fanor Cymru'n un. Pwy yn awr, ar lawr Seneddol, Geidw gadarn fri gwaredol p"vdain Fawr i lwydd sylweddol, Faner Cymru'n un? D-ewr Lloyd George yw'r gwron, Teyrngar, frawdgar lrrython. Gwr a'i fron fel ffynon gr?\ Rydd ddoniau'r Nef i tluvuion. Bloeddiwn! bloeddiwn chwi awn fenyr, Wele nerth ein Brenhin Arthur: Ysbryd concwest leinw'r awyr- Baner Cymru'n un! Aeth y gof a'i 'sgwyddau llydain Gyda'i bum' cant dewr i Lundain: Clywch y nen o byd yn adsain Baner Cymru'n un! Weie arwr y Gyllideb- Dringo wna i anfarwoldeb; Gallu ozsoedd yn ei yneb- I Banor Cyomru D un! Rhaid yw lief yr angel, Rhiid call UODgaU rhyfel: R.b.aid i r cryf roi nawdd i'r gwan, A gwneyd ei ran yn ddiogel; Rhnid yw concro Mcunmon 3.c:06- D. L!oi,d George yw'r ren.o ..dfridog: a- geidw yn a,-cidercho.- Faner Qymru'n un! Oakland, Calif. J. M. jAn £ s. — o: Y BRENIN IORWERTH VII.. Pan i'r orcedd. angau ddringodd, Gan ddadweinio yno'i gledd, Iorwerth Frenin a darawodd— -R,boddodd arno nod y bedd; Tywallt chwerw ddagrau hiraeth Wna y deiliaid yn mhob g-wlad; Hir y ceidw pob llywodraeth Iorworth Frenin mewn coffhad. "Brenin heddweh" g&'dd ei symud, E-r mawr ofid dynol ryw: Rhoddi'r gwron yn y gweryd- Dwyn y da o dir y byw; Da a (beth yn ei frenhiniaeth, Mawrion byd ro'ent iddo ba.rch- Un fu'n eang ei lywodraeth, Heddyw'n gyfyng yn ei arch. Bu yn chwifio'r deyrnwiakn Lawer teyrn dros Brydain Fawrs Ond ni welwyd un mor addien Yn eu mysg ag Iorwerth fawr; Doeth a da fu'n llyipodraethu Dros ei ddeiliaid ar bob pryd, Miloedd, bellach, sv'n hiraetnu Ar ei ol 'mhob rhan o'&byd. Bu yngymorth i'r rhai gweiniaid, Cywir gyfaill i'r tylawd: Noddfa ddQogel i estroniaid— Barnai'x truain megis brawd; Gweddsvon lu a phlant amddifaid A dderbynient o'i ystor: Clywodd gri rhyw fyrdd trueiniaid Yma a thu draw i'r mor. Yn ddidramgwydd a diduedd Bu fel b:-cnin trwy ci oes; I'w hardd gorcn rhodd anrhydedd, Ac i'w deiliaid ddysg a moee; Yn ei deulu bu'n ddylanwad, Yn llawn cariad mogis tad: Priod hoff, a phur ei rodiad, Fol y gweddai i'w ystad. Ei ddaearol goron euraidd Wisgir mwy sran un o'i had, Fel y tad yn fab tangnefedd, Er dyrchafiad a mawrhad; Bydded iddo hir frenhiniaeth, O'i ragflaenydd caed ci 'stor: B'ceddi'H deiliaid ei lywodrz-,etli- "Byw yn hir fo'n Brenin Sior." T-'i^rar. W. LL.

f R EC TO WOMIN, BROWN'S FEMALE SYRUP has ob- tained wonderful- results in the cure ci all fe- irale irregularities. I will send any woman a trial bottle free on receipt cf two stamps to pay postage and packing, if "Merthyr Express." is mentioned. Do net neglect this offer, but writo ,,me tgpi.L-- l. StMiog JPpfpde, "2YtU,J Q9"

THE QUESTION > OF JJEALTH. This is a matter which concerns you surely at one time or another especially when Influenza. is so prevalent as it is just now. It is well to know what to take to ward off an attack of this most weakening disease to ccmbat it whilst under its baleful influence, and particularly after an attack, for then the system is so lowered as to be liable to the most dangerous of complainta. G WILYM. jgVANa1 QUININE JglTTEks. Is acknowledged by all who have given it a fair trial to be the be-st specific remedy for dealing with Influenza 111 all its various stages, being a Prepara- tion skilfully prepared with and accompanied with other Blood Purifying and enrichrng agents, suitable for the Liver, Digestion, and all those ailments requiring Tonic strengthening and nerve increasing properties. It invaluable when suffering with Colds, Pneumonia, or any serious illness of prostration caused by sleeplessness or worry of any kind, when the body h a general feeling of weakness and lassi- tude. JJOIFT JJELAf* CONSIDER IT INOW. Send for a copy of the pamphlet of tes- timonials, which carefully read and consider well, then buy a bottle at your nearest Chemist or Stores, but see when purchasing that the name "Gwilym Evans" is on the label, stamp, and bottle, for without which none are genuine. gOLD EVERYWHERE. In bottles, 2s. 9d. and 4s. 6d. each* Sole Proprietors— QUININE BITTERS MANUFACTUR- ING COMPANY, LIMITED, LLANELLY. SOUTH WALES. I WATCHES OF PRECISION & QUALITY LIKE THOSE MADE BY J.W. BENSON, LTD., ARE A PURCHASE FOR A LIFETIME. The best principles of horology, the finest materials, and the ÏtJ- herited skill of 100 years of WatcH work all tend to make them the Most Perfect Watches of the day. BENSON'S rcc JB WATCHES contain Int' A|p provementsall JfF l|k conducing to lL Jp ^m*CCU.raC^ and ^jjjpr sive upkeep which should be the main features in Watch work, and no other firm can equal them. Owners write that the "Field," "Ludgate," & "Bank Watches arc of "INCOMPARABLE EXCELLENCE." mmm RINGS OF BEAUTY MADE BY • t. W. BENSON, Ltd., Show great origin' ality of design COIn" bined with taste; they demonsL} the' possibility Of securing the most exclusive alta beautiful work at I strictly moderate prices, and they stand pre-eminently above all others in the essentials of quality and value; the range of prices and variety of Gems is immense. Like all the Co's stock, Watches and Rings are priced with a keen regarSto value and are sold either for (fash, or on "The Times" System of MONTHLY PAYMENTS. Fully Illustrated and priced Books, No. i, Watches from 2, Expanding Bracelets, Rings from Cl, Jewel- lery, &c. No. 2, Plate, Clocks, Silver Goods, &c., will be sent post free, or a selection will be sent to intending buyers at our Risk and Expense. J. W. BENSON, LTD., Factory: 62 S 64, LUDGATE KILL, E.C- 25, OLD BOND ST., W., AND ::8, ROYAL EXCHANGE, E.C. d*lf\ There's many a on# lost who would be "j1 to-day if their Mothers not neglected them. jjLkJ pitiful screams and reet\ld ness by day and night pain which can be stopPfi jHBHBpaV and the danger removed '0 RED DROPS HgO The^ Famous Specific jl9 etc. They are JHHkhI 1 tM soother and healthi-vvi MB&BH/B J Kh Where there's a babv tbe]l mSB/lflI ft ■■ should be Jones' Red Jr BSm, to Save Fain and Sorro^j i Chemist, 3a, Victoria St folJowing i Chemist, 3a, Victoria St A BOON TO 1 D^lais: Mr" .EVANS, BACKWARD I Che^:lSt• Un,on st,eet „ DADirc 1 ■ Troedyrhiw, Messrs. J. A f BABIES! B J0NEg S0NS CaDWH House. •••Mr. Price. Post-office. P^liard, Chemist. p^nf u .Mfcstes Mr. Howells. Chemist. T^nvna"^ M -V'- From 311 Chemists. Tonypandy.Mr. Emrys Richards, Chemist. rirWa Mr- J- w- Richards, Chemist. Mr. Prothero. Chemist- ,SIr- Daries. Chemist lerndale— ..Mr. Burgess. Chemist. Tylorstown..Mr. W. R. Williams, Chemist. Abercynon. Mr. W. C. Williams, Chemist. Mountain Ash.Mr. Williams. Chemist. Mountain Ash Mr. Jones, Chemist. r'" From all Chemists. JONES & SONS, Manufacturing m Mountain Ash Mr. Jones, Chemist. B Porth From all Chemists. B JONES & SONS, Manufacturing Chemists, LLANIDLOES.^ PRESERVE YOUR CLOTHES And WINTER WEARING APPARElI by placing amongst them DONOVAN'S DUBOIS SACHET. These Sachets keep away all Moth and superior in every way to Camphor Balls »U such old methods, each Sachet being de. igiit.Ill.Y perfumed, supplied in three varieties, White Iiose» Sweet Pea, Violet De Parme. The • ?oar of Camphor changed for one that is frar'anC' refined, and lasting. These Sachet? prepared bf an entirely new process. Prices, 3 packets, Id.; 7 packets, 1s. Pest Ftf* AII¥P DONOV iN, 14, Mervy» Screed Aberfon, South Wfrlea, f