HORSE SHOW. THE tenth annual show was held at Conway on Friday, and was well attended. The president for the year was Colonel Gough, Mr. Hugh Jones was the vice-presi- dent, Mr. J. A. Pollitt, chairman of the Committee, Mr. O. Rowland, treasurer, and Mr. J. W. Tosdevine, secretary. The judges were -Messrs. W. Thompson, Chester; Conway Bell, Hhyl; Button, Sut- ton R. Jones, Brynrhydd; G. O. Jones, Merchllyn J. Evans, Llanrwst, and J. T. Davies, Mochdre. The following is the prize li-it:-Sliiye stallion :—1, J. Barrs, Nuneaton highly commended, D. Williams, Abergele. Roadster stallion Three entries, but not sufficient merit for the prize. I Agricultural team 1, J. Evans, Lianrwst; 2, R. Ellis, Ty'n-y-groes. Agricultural mare or gelding: 1, J. Foulkes, Conway 2, J. T. Davies, Mochdre; 3, G. O. Jones, Conway. Agricultural gelding or filly, rising three years 1, J. T. Davies 2, G. O. Jones. Ag- ricultural gelding or filly, rising two years: 1, R. Hughes, Eglwysbach; 2, H. Roberts Llanfairfechan; 3, D. Roberts, Eglwy-baeh. Agricultural colt or filly, foaled in 189G 1, J. Jones, Glan C-mway; 2, J. Stott, Con- way 3, W. F. Jones, Conway. Roadster, 15 hands and over: 1, G. O. Jones 2, the Hon. Mrs. Ward, Old Col- wyn 3, R. Owen, Brynsiencyn, Cob, 14j hands and under 15 hands; 1. Mr. Dutton, Bodfari; 2, the Hon. Mrs. Ward 3. Mrs. M'Laren, Prestatyn. Cob, 131 hands and under 14- hands: 1, R. Ellis, Conway 2, J. Jones, Colwyn Bay 3, Dr. Thomas, Bangor. In-foal mare, over 14 hands, adapted for breeding purposes: 1, J. Jones, Colwyn Bay: 2, the Hon. Mrs. Ward. Pony not exceeding 13J bands: 1 and 3, 2 J. Jjnes 2, H. H. Roberts, Eglwysbach. Welsh mountain pony, not exceeding 12 hands 1, T. Roberts, Llanrwst; 2 and 3, J. Jones, Colwyn Bay. Shire Stallion and two of his offspring, born in the district of the show; 1, J. Hughes, Llangerniew. Agricultural mare or gelding in the show, of any age 1 and 3, J. Evans, Llanrwst; 2, D. Foulkes, Penmaenmawr. Trotter, shown under saddle: 1, Mrs. Dutton, Bodfari 2, R. Ellis, Conway; high- ly commended, the Hon. Mrs. Ward. Half bred colt or filly, sired by any thoroughbred horse in North Wales J Jones. Agricultural mare, exhibited in any class by exhibitor resident in "Vv ales or England J. T. Davies, Mochdre. Silver medal, presented by the Shire Horse Society, for the best mare or filly entered, or eligible for entry, in Shire Horse Stud Book; J. T. Davies. Turnout, in single harness: 1, Mrs. Dut- ton 2nd J. Jones 3, the Hon. Mrs. Ward. Turnout, in double harness: the Hon. Mrs. Ward. Tandem turnout: the Hon. Mrs. Ward. Heavy horse and cart: G. O. Jones. Daring the afternoon a man was arrested on a charge of pocket-picking. He refused to give the police his name and address un- til he had seen a solicitor.
[(jopysiaiiT. j TWENTY SHORT STORIES, j 16. THE HOUSE WITH ONE LIGHT. I iY EVELYN EVERETT GREEN, (Author of Fir Tree Farm," Two Enthusiasts," etc. etc.) No, Miss, there's nobody lives there now. It's all shut up-which seems a pity for a fine house like that. Bat old Squire, he's a bit queer in his head and if he chooses to shut up the Hall and live in a bit of a cottage with two old servants- why nobody can stop him, you see." "Is he mad, then? I didn't know you had a Squire here?" 0 yes-old Squire Hardcastle. We've had Hardcastles here as long as anybody can remem- ber but it seems as though this one would ba the last," and the woman sighed as though sorry about something, Is there a story about them ? I asked, for, as it was a'wet evening and I had not many books, I was rather glad of a bit of gossip with my land- lady, who was a pleasant old soul of the sort one only meets rarely now-a-days. Get another cup, and I'll pour you out a cnp of tea with me, and you shall tell me the story to pass the time." 11 Well, Miss," began Mrs. Muffler, when this arrangement had been carrledout vo our mutual satisfaction, I don't know that it'll sound much to you, coming from Loudon and furrain parts and hearing so many odd things; but we country- folks thinks a deal of what happens hereabouts. Squire Hardcastle was always a bit of a miser, and he never kept open house as his fathers had done, and they do say he and his wife had scenes together, ^nd that she pined away out of chagrin and vexation. However, I don't know if that's true. But, at least, she died when Master Geoffrey was twelve years old and after that things were meaner than ever, and the poor lad had a sad time of it when he came home for his holidays. His father did send him to school, and he got to college too, for he touk a scholarship, and the old man see;ne as though he couldn't foroear to let him use it, even though he did have to help him with an allowance which folks said was very miserable and mean for a I-iiaa in Master Geoffrey's position. However, ho did well at college, ana we were all fond of him here but he came less and less; till one time when he had done his course, and wanted his father to do something for liiri-we, don't quite know what; but at any rate the old Squire wouldn't do it, and there was a dreadful quarrel,, over it, folks say." Was that, before the Hall was shut up ? "Yes, just before. Old Squire was living in one wing then with the same queer old j.airof ser- vants as he's got still. They are as near in their ways as he, and suit him. Well, Master Geofirey, he came home, and there was a great quarrel about something—everybody says it was money—and then he went away ¿ty in hot anger, and the old Squire shut up the Hall and went to live at one of his lodges, and there he's lived ever since, letting everything go to rack and ruin, and folks say it's just to spite Mr. Geoffrey, who will have to come into it by and'by, as it's all entailed but they say tie old man buries all the money he saves year by year, so that his son shall never have it and t ey say the old n. •& and woman know where it is and will get it all when he's gone." "What av<ryodd story," I said, "and where is Mr. Geoffrey gone? and what is he doing ? That's what nobody knows, Miss. Mr. Geoffrey tco much away to make friends here bouts, and when he went there wasn't anybody to tell us about him. They say he went to furrain p rts, and that fee had brains enough to get on anywhere. I'm sure I hope he has. It's a crying sh.nic, as we all do say, that a fine promising young men and an only son should be driven from home and made to eara his own living, witii this hue property going to pieces for w. nt of somebody to see after it. But wnen you've got a half-cracked old miser to deal with, what are you to do ? "And nobody lives in the Hall?—not even a caretaker ? No, Miss, not a soul. Old Squire won t have it. He's got 11 t"ie keys himself, and not a soul is allowed in. It's one of his crazes. He won't let a creature cross the threshold, and all tse doors and windows are barred or boarded up/like, as if it "On. was a prison." Now, the reason why I was curious about the deserted old was that my bedroom window looked straight across at it. Trees shut it in to a very great extent—so much so that I had only realised quite lately that there was any house there at all: but through a small gap between two limbs of a giant oak, a shaft of light came streaming by night straight. across from that lonely house to my window--the .only one. it so chanced which looked out that way. I had seen it first by chance, drawing up my blind to admire the effect of the moonlight on the trees, and since then the strength and brilliance of the light had prompted me to look for it regularly. It must come from some very powerful lamp I decided, and I was curious to know the meaning of that solitary light. I had discovered by day the neglected-looking old house with its many closed windows but I was not prepared to hear that it was altogether shut up and deserted. That night the rain ceased, and I announced my intention of going out for a moonlight stroll. I was five and twenty, and considered that I was quite able to take care of myself. I was almost alone in the world, and had a sufficient, although not a large, fortune. I lived in London for the most part, in pleasant rooms of my own but from time to time I enjoyed burying myself completely for a few weeks in some quiet country place like East- bury, and seeing nobody of my own class during the whole of that time. Some people called me eccentric, but I don't know that I was. I was like many other women, lonely rather from choice than necessity. I might have changed my lot more than once, and have either married, or found, congenial companionship with nica women of my acquaintance, but I had never made up my mind to the sacrifice of my independence. The memory of a certain brief episode in my life a few years back always deterred me. If he had asked me—perhaps I would have yielded. But our meeting was brief, a sudden breaking-up of plans separated us without a fare- well. I believed the page closed for ever, but somehow its memory hindered me from opening any other like it. The house dog followed me I instructed my landlady not to wait up. I had been cooped up all day, and a long moonlight walk had attractions for me! I started off at a good pace, and .soon left the village far behind, As I returned some hours later my thoughts had strayed back, I know not how, or why, to that little hotel on Lake Letnau, and my friendship with Mr. Castleton there. I remembered how bright everything had looked to me then, how I had pictured-but then had come his temporary departure with his friend for a few day's moun- taineering, the sudden scare of small-pox in the hotel, the rapid and determined flight of my aunt, whom I could not desert; and the sudden and com- plete breaking off of that friendship which had been so much more to me than any other I had ever known. My thoughts were far enough from Eastbury as I turned my steps back thither at length, when suddenly from the crown of a lonely little eminence far away from the high road or any building I saw the strong gleam in that deserted house, falling in a long bright ray right across the sleeping meadows. Jo; And the house was ■empty—not a soul living there. Suddenly the longing after an adventure came lipon me. I had no fear of ghosts before my eyes. I began to suspect that the old miser himself re- turned to his deserted house at night perha to secrete some gathered hoard, or perhaps to remove some hoard to the nearer proximity of his own home. Could it be possible to get a peep at him at his work ? I was light of foot and active, and the old house was clothed in tangled ivy. Might it hot be possible to climb up as far as the window from which the light sfrofeiued out,lanJ see what it :'l trieaiiu ? t Cariosity and the desire t > solve the mystery got upper hand, and i/d n the direction the old house as fai t n> fef t wo aid carry me, ■And as straight as the c As I noted the extreme loneliness oft country I was not sur- prised that the light had n ly remained un- noticed by the village t J fv o aid s- e nothing *t from their cottages or from the high r;. It as only visible here and there through 0. n e trees or from a hillock on the wild. com. might burn there a month unobservedi, thought, but all the same I would myself try and find out what it meant. With cautious steps, I approached the house through a gap in the hedge made by boys desirous to obtain fruit and nuts from the neglected gardens. The whole house seemed to lie sleeping in shadow and silence, and only from that one upper window did a thin shaft of light shine out strong and clear. I looked up at it and saw that it came through a' round hole in a shutter, a hole that might possibly be unknown to the inhabi- tant of the room. The room was in a sort of tower, and the tower was draped in tangled ivy. But there was a better and easier way of mounting to the window than by the ivy. A little outer spiral staircase wound up to the very top just in the angle where the tower jutted from the house itself, and to each of the upper tower-rooms was a balcony, so that by standing on this balcony I felt sure that I could look straight through the hole and into the room. I think I felt a good deal more nervous now that I was really creeping up the cra.zy little stairway than I done in planning my more precarious ascent by the ivy, but curiosity drew me on, step by step, and at last I reached the level of that room from which the light shone steadily out. My heartbeat fast, and I stepped with extreme caution upon the little balcony, and then holding hard by the ivy, I raised myself on tip-toe, and found that I could just look comfortably into the room. And what did I see? Nothing at all dreadful. A table strewn with papers and with a number of vessels and tcstubes suggestive of a laboratory, a very powerful lamp burning overhead and shedding a strong light upon everything and the figure of a man—with his back toward me—mixing, with extreme care, some ingredients in a mortar, and pounding them together gently, bending from time to time over his papers as he worked, or added some fresh ingredient to the compound. Not a grizzled old miser after all. No secret hoard or mystery to excite the imagination, (just an ordinary young man—for the figure was power- ful and muscular, and the hair crisp and dark and curling—working out some chemical problem, having probably hired this old laboratory from the miser for a few gold pieces. I felt rather as though I had had a slap in the face, and was preparing to turn away and creep home again when the young experimenter sud- denly walked s ound to the other side of the table towards a red powder, which lay there on a p per. The lifiit fell fall, upon his face—and I drew in my breatli with u quick gasp that was almost a cry, for the face was that of the man to whom I had so nearly lost my heart two short years back-tho face of Mr. Castloton. I stood gazing at him, fascinated and unable to move. There "was no mistaking the handsome, rather haughty face, the intellectual head, the keen, quick eyes, the square chin, and reso- lute mouth. A should have known him anywhere. I think; but with this strong light upon his face a mistake was impossible. I stood gazing spell- bound, and when a sudden, loud noise smote upon my ears I almost gave a cry. It was only the church clock striking twelve. I counted the strokes mechanically as they fell upon my ear, and still I stood gazing, and gazing at that well-known face. Then suddenly remembering that I was no better than a spy, and that I had no business to be there at all, I quickly descended from my coign of vantage, and slipped down the little stairway to join my faithful canine comrade who had remained patiently below. Mr. Castleton there! Mr. Castleton at East- bury I was so stunned by the revelation that I hardly knew whether or not I was dreaming. In. stead of making straight for the gap I wandered aimlessly about the old garden, still feeling the charm of being near to him and that light, until the dog gave a low warning growl, and 1 heard the sound of a stealthy footstep approaching. In an instant, and with a beating heart, I slipped into a little nook between two great yew trees near to the garden wall,, where I was completely con- cealed, and the dog came with me and obeyed my whispered command to keep silence. The moon was bright enough to show me the approaching person. It was a bowed old man with a wizened face, and he was wheeling some- thing with him in a barrow, which proved to be a, very heavy case. He paused so near to me that I was in mortal terror of being seen, but he stopped short under the yew tree and began scraping about, and finally moved a great piece of board which I then saw concealed a deep hole, into which, with no small difficulty, he lowered the heavy iron box. Then he covered up the hole, quickly, but very carefully, pushed the wheelbarrow out of sight in the bushes, and hastily hobbled away, leaving the place just as the chime struck the first quarter after twelve. I knew the old man. He lived at the lodge, and to-night I had just heard that he was servant to the old miser who owned the Hall itself. I sup- posed he was hiding away some treasure chest of his master's, and was rather surprised that the miser should entrust this task to any hired per- son. However, it was no business of mine, and my heart was so full of Mr. Castleton that I could think of nothing else. I went home, and as I was undressing I heard an unwonted sound of footsteps under my window tramping along the road in the direction of the lodge, but I thought little enough of it, and after lying awake thinking over my adventure till far into the night, I fell asleep, and slept so soundly that it was past nine o'clock before I opened my eyes again. When I got downstairs I found my landlady in a state of the greatest excitement. 0 Miss she cried, What do you think has happened last night ? The most awful thing. IPoor old Squire was murdered in his bed at twelve o'clock—just when old Mills had gone out to look for the dog which was missing—and folks say there's no manner of doubt but that it was his own son as did it: for it seems that Master Geoffrey has been hiding away these two weeks past up at the old Hall, and last night he murdered his father in his bed, and took the money chest off with him and has hid it nobody knows where." A sudden thrill ran through me like a powerful electric shock. I sat down to the table and asked my landlady to tell me more details. She was only too happy to comply. It's an awful thing, Miss. I heard all about it from Bobbins, who got it straight from the police- man. Old Mills came running to him close on half past twelve last night, to say he'd found the old man murdered in his bed. It seems he had been in to look to his master at a quarter before twelve, because he rang his bell sharp like. The dog wasn't in the house, and he always slept in the old man's room by the box which folks sup- pose held his money, and the Squire wouldn't rest without him, and sent Mills out after him. He says he was hunting about, maybe the bes part of lialf-an-hour, but couldn't find the creature any- where. Then he goes back—and finds the old Squire lying in the bed with his throat cut from ear to ear-awful to see. Off he sets for the police and when they question him he says tlut he knows Mr. Geoffrey is hanging about the place, because he's seen him more than once. He believed he was hiding somewhere up at the Hall; and that he'd decoyed the dog away on purpose, and was watching his chance to get in and kill the old man. That's what he said, and the policeman went straight to the Hall, and there was Mr. Geoffrey, sure enough, in a queer place he used to be fond of when he lived at home,—what they called a laboratory, or something of that sort,—and there were queer red stains on his hands, and he seemed put about at being found, and was that upset when he heard his father was killed that all was sure he'd done it, arid wanted .Mills to have the blame. So the crowner's to come to-day, and he'll be committed for tr al as sure as eggs is eggs. O I to think as Mr. Geoffrey we thought so much on, should end his days on the gallows," and Mrs. Muffler fairly wept in her mingling of sorrow, excitement, and horror. I felt that my face was very pale. But I pre. tended to be busy with my breakfast aal asked: "What does Mr. Geoffrey say abouthimself ? "0, Miss, I don't hardly know I'm afraid all's not well with Mr. Geoffrey. When folks get chang- ing their names and calling themselves different like, and living in foreign parts, one never knows where you have them. He's called himself Mr. Castleton these many years, and folks do say that he's a professor or something; but it don't seem right to go on so. But I must get teethe inquest and hear it all. I never thought to hear Mr. Geof- frey committed to take his trial for his life." If Mrs Muffler felt she must go—be sure I did the same. I knew that come what might I must hear the evidence, for if the story I had heard was correctly reported, I, and I alone, might have the power of saving an innocent man from an awful charge. I feared to ask too many questions lefit 1, should hear after all that the murder had been com- mitted earlier in the night, lP -ny. evi" Vjhf go for nothing; but I-pressed into the room by Mrs. Muffler's side, closely veiled, when it was known that proceedings were about to be com- menced and when I saw Mr Castleton standing calm and pale very near to two sturdy representa- tives of local justice, I felt my heart give such a leap that I was afraid it would be heard all over the room. The coroner took his seat. The Jury, who had viewed the corpse previously, were sworn, and proceedings commenced. The evidence of the doctor was taken first, who affirmed that'death had been caused by the inflic- tion of a wound in the throat, and that it was his opinion the wound could not have been self- inflicted. The policeman testified to the finding of the body in the condition described by the medical man; and then Mills was called for his statement. It was in substance just what Mrs. Muffler had told me, and he was perfectly clear as to the time, as was also his old wife. The master had gone to bed at half-past eleven, but had missed the dog last thing. He had rung his bell and then got into bed. Both the old servants answered the unwonted summons, and both saw him alive shortly before midnight. Then the man had gone to seek the dog, and the old woman had retired to bed. She knew nothing of the awful deed done till after the arrival of the policeman, as her hus- band had not stayed to call her up when he dis- covered what had happened. Then came evidence as to the proximity of Geoffrey to the lodge. Mills declared he had seen him hanging about that very evening, and that he was almost certain he saw him looking over the hedge as he went out after the dog. He would not swear it positively, because the light was fitful, and the face dis- appeared so quickly but he was almost sure of it. Another terrible piece of evidence against the accused was that a bloody razor had been found in the grounds of the old Hall that very morning, thrown away behind some bushes. Little scraps of evidence given by one and another all pointed to the fact that Geoffrey knew his father's miserly habits, that there was a bitter quarrel between the two men, that he would come into a fine inheritance upon his father's death, that- But I could not listen longer. It was growing more than flesh and blood could bear. Suddenly I rose up in my seat, and said- "I have some evidence to give. May I be sworn ?" There was a sudden, quick exclamation, in a voice I knew to be Geoffrey's, but. I dared not look at him. I took the required oath, and told my story, which the reader knows. I could see by the absorbed interest on all faces, could tell by the intense hush within the room, what an impression it was making. I was asked several searching questions, especially as to the time of the occur- rence—could I actually swear that I had been watching the movements of Geoffrey Hardcastle for some minutes when the church clock struck twelve ? Was I certain of the identity of the old man I had seen with that of Mills the servant, whose evidence I had heard ? In fact I was cross- questioned with some sharpness, but my story was so simple that there was no fear of my being con- fused or contradicting myself. At last I was told I might sit clown, and an order was given to the two policemen to go and look in the place I had described for the iron-bound box, and for the wheelbarrow, or traces of it. Whilst the men were gone we all kept our seats and waited in breathless expectancy. The time seemed long, but it was not really so, before the men came back wheeling the chest, in the very barrow in which old Mills had borne it to its hiding place. My story was verified in one particular., The coroner was satisfied on all others. Geoffrey stood a free man, cleared from all shadow of sus- picion. The old man Mills was committed to stand his trial, and flinging up his hands in an agony of remorse and terror, openly confessed his sin. Leaving the stifling room, and thankful to be free of the scene still going on there, I stole away into the calm summer evening—to find Mr. Castle- ton—Geoffrey—beside me. Maud," he said in a strange choked voice, Is this how we meet again? it,w can I thank you for what you have done for me to-day ?" "0 don't thank me," I cried with something almost like a sob, for I was terribly unhinged by all I had gone through, "It would have billed me if—if—0 how can I say it? He suddenly gathered me into his arms, and I lay still in bis embrace, a great hush falling upon me. We belonged to each other, I think, from the very first—I. at least felt it. Now you arc mine altogether, my darling. You have given me back my lifc-anrl now that life must be always years. We will let nothing part us any more." "0 Geoffrey 1 cried, "0 Geoffrey S" It wa3 all eouid find to say, but it was enough. He held me close to his faithful heart, and oar lips met in the first kiss.
AN AUSTRALIAN NATURALIST'S STORY. The Melbourne Argus publishes the fol- lowing paragraph — The Spectator's sto- ries about the sagacity of domestic animals have gained a world-wide reputation, and this ha,,3 elicited from a Queensland squatter (Mr. R. Maitland, of Westwood, Marybo- rough) a remarkable narrative of a battle he once witnessed between two old men kan- garoos. On the occasion to which I refer,' writes Mr. Maitland,51 was riding along one evening near sundown, when the black boy who accompanied me, and who happened to be a few yards ahead of me at the time, suddenly pulled up his horse just as he top- ped the crest of the ridge we were rising, held up his hand in warning, and then beckoned me to join him. As we were on a cattle-mustering expedition at the time, I thought he bad caught sight of a rowdy mob, but when I had crept quietly up along- side him, and could look down into the gully below, 1 stared in amazemsnt at tbe scene before me, for there, grouped in a circle of about » hundred yards or so across, stood some fifty or sixty forest kangaroos, every one of them erect, and looking on with evident interest at the spectaclo of two im- mense "old D-i e ki,' who, in the middle of the ring, were engaged in deadly combat. Clas- ping in fierce embrace with their short, mus- cular arms, they swayed to and fro in their efforts to lorce each other to the ground, every now anll agam dealing ferocious kicks at each-others stomachs with the long knife- like toe. of^their bind ieet, lacks which they avoided with vrondemil agility by a sort of backward jump, without, however, releasing their grip of ea^h other's bodies for a mo- ment. The whole scene, the two combatants with their upright figures gripping and swaying in the centre exactly as two wrest- lers might have dene, with the ring of erect, grey-bodied onlookers, was singularly in- teresting, and for some ten minutes or more we stood and watched them, until a snort from one of our horses gave them the alarm, and they were oft 111 all directions in a mo- ment. On riding up to examine the spot we found tufts of fiif and blood marks upon the grass in several places, and the state of the ground for some yards round about showed very plainly that the struggle had been a fierce one. Neither of the comba- tants, however, had been disabled, for they bounded away amongst the others, and we saw them no more.'
Milk baths to improve the complexion are amongst the newest ideas conceived for the women of New York, and a magnincent bathing establishment for the purpose is being fitted up. Each bather will he supplied with twenty quarts of milk. Mathias Sether died near Dacatur, Ind., after fasting for eight months. He had selected his burial-place, and designated his tombstone. He left word that photographs of him were to be taken after death and distributed among his friends, and this was done. At a meeting of Parnellite members held at the House of Commons, under the presidency of Mr. John Redmond, it was resolved to re- quest Mr. Kedmond to eutn'tioj conference of the Pamellit« s in Ir.' ? 3der ihe pos itior f the tuiiue a-Vioi?
CLOCAENOG. A correspondent writes The annual parish meeting was held in Clocaenog as in many other places, on Thursday, March 18th. A fair attendance of parochial electors as sembled in their parish parliament, in a genial and friendly mood, indicating that the excitement of novelty so prevalent two years ago, has not degenerated into morbid indifference, or transformed into the pro phetic pictures of the time—the blacksmith swearing at the parson-or the labourer creating a row by coming intoxicated to the meetings of the Council. The Local Government Act, 1894, is an experiment, and even within the severe li mitations placed upon the powers of the Council, the knight of the horny hand has proved beyond dispute, that he is no mean citizen. It is a high compliment to the Councils and meetings, that so little has been heard of them for the last two years. Had there been the blundering; and incapa- city, the continual scenes of ignorance and strife, the matter out of which starling newspaper copy is made up, the experiment would have been a failure by now, and the Councils doomed to non-existence. On the contrary, the Local Government Act, 1894, has awakened a sense of existence and per- sonal responsibility in the administrative affairs of the parish in a class of men hither- to treated in society as cyphers in arith metic. The meeting commenced soon after seven o'clock in the evening, by electing Mr Evan R. Evans, Nantycelyn, the member for this parish on the Distict Council and Board of Guardians, to preside. As a rule a chairman is selected from among the few, who com- mand the village platform, and flatter them- selves to be persons of note and great in- iluence, and with authority command atten- ¡ tion, and fix every ear to the sound of their trumpets. ¡ But, however, the chair was filled with dexterity, worthy of the select class, and to L the satisfaction of all parties. The election of members on the Parish Council for the coming year was the next on tha programme, having for the last two weeks heralded the length and breadth of the parish.. The Chairman having announced to the meeting that the nomination of members on the Parish Council was the first and principal business of the meeting, it was all in excite- ment for a few minutes. Nomination papers demanded and delivered to the parties; questions uttered, and answers returned; writing pens and ink moved to and fro from one to another along the desks-the loud talking subsisting into whispers, and in the end settling down into silence. Moreover, shortly the nomination papers began to re- turn, one after the^ other^ until all had re- ceived the mark of the chairman in its fore- head. Following the rules and regulations of the Local Government Board, the chair- man declared the following gentlemen to be elected members of the Clocaenog Parish Councils for the coming yeâr: Messrs. John Davies, Cruglas; Rev. Ed. Meredith Griffiths, Rectory; John Hughes, Pencoed isaf; John Jones, Plas; Thomas Owen Jopes, Penypare; Thomas Jones, Caewgan Griffith Jones, Foty'rheudre Richard Jones, Tyisa'rcefn; William Roberts, Maestyddyn isaf; Edwin Roberts, Maestyddyn canol; and Thomas Roberts, Llanerchgron uehaf. The attention of the meeting was next called to the restoratidn of the cottage' Hen Ysgoldy,' and the consent of the ratepayers solicited to charge rates to cover the expense to be, påid by instalments extending for a number- of years The meeting approved of the movement, and granted the application of the Parish Council. The last business of the meeting was.^the reading of the accounts of the Parochial Charities. This new stage in theParoehial Charities hasv: awakened the interest in a certain class. > The meeting terminated, and all dispersed to their homes, satisfied in their work and friendly among themselves.
ST. DAVID'S DAY IN SOUTH AFRICA. A correspondent writing from Natal states that the representatives of' gallant little Wales' resident in Durban dined together in celebratien of St. David's Day. A few of the more patriotic Welshmen felt that some effort should be made to celebrate the anni- versary of their patron saint in a fitting manner, and mainly through the exertions of Mr. R. Ellis Jones, the dinner was ar- ranged. He was assisted by a committee composed of Messrs. J. P. Mumford, Rev. J, 1. Jones, J. E. Evans, J. Richards, W Davies, and T. W. Francis. Mr. J. P. Mumford pre- sided, and Mr. J. F. King was vice chair- man. A telegram was received from the Cambrian Society at Capetown, which had been sent in Welsh. The English transla- tion was given as c Wales for ever. Stick to it' (applause). The Chairman proposed' the toast of St. David, our Patron Saint,' the anniversary of whom they were met that night to com- memorate. They could claim St. David to have been a thorough Welshman, as having been born, lived, worked, and died in Wales (applause). Mr. G. W. Humphreys gave 'Waies, the land of our fathers.' As an illustration of the pluckiness of the Welsh, he instanced the methods they adopted to drive out the French on their landing in Pembrokeshire 'I in 1797. Mr. T. Francis proposed the further suc- cess of the S. African Eisteddvod.' The Chairman, in reply, said when the S. A. Eisteddvod was started, about five years ago, it was pretty well pooh-poohed, inasmuch as people were all sure that it would not succeed, owing to the difficulties in the way. Consequently, it had to be started by a single individual, without a penny piece of guarantee. He (the speaker) had started the Eisteddvod, and it was his intention to see it through until it had been established throughout the length and breadth of South Africa. He had not the slightest doubt but what it would succeed. The Eisteddvod would be the means of ad- vancing music, literature, and arts in South Africa, as it had done in Wales. Mr. T. N. Hughes proposed the Visitors,' but dealt chiefly with the land of Wales in his speech. He resented the imputation that Wales was in England. Wales had a separate -nationality. Its people were the best commercial and best educated people in the world, and they were the most indus- trious. They had the greenest fields and greenest lanes, and the most lovely women in the four countries. In the battlefield Wales had never yielded. The Romans who conquered the world had to stop short at Wales. They wanted to be treated as a distinct people from England, and they ought to be represented on the national flag. Mr. J. King gave the toast of The land we live in.' He stated that he had been in the country about 20 years, and he believed there 1 was every opportunity for young men to get on in this country. Mr. Ellis Jones gave the toast of the Durban Cambrian Society,' which, he re marked, was as yet a myth, there being no such thing in existence. He hoped, how- ever, that the Society would be in existence within the next three weeks (applause). He had been made secretary, but if he retained the office, he would leave no stone unturned until the Society had become thoroughly organised. The objects of the Society would be to hold out a helping hand to their fellow- countrymen who happened to land here without sufficient capital, and also to ar- range a series of social and musical evenings. He thought there was sufficient material in Durban to organise such an association, and although he was sorry to say that Welshmen in Durban were not in unity at present, he in Durban were not in unity at present, he hoped this would soon be overcome (ap- plause). I
I THE NEW DEAN OF ST. DAVID'S. APPOINTMENT OF AUG fi DEACON HOWELL. THE Queen has been pleased to approve the appointment of Archdeacon Howell, B.D., vidllr of Gresford, to the deanery of Sb. David's in succession to the late Yery Rev. Dr. Phillips. Dean Howell, as a preacher, speaker, and worker, has well been described as 'a living peer amongst the Welsh.' He is a typical Welshman. He understands his countrymen perfectly, and they understand him. They have been known,' says the Rev. W. Hay M.H. Aitken, to leave the hayiield in the harvest in the middle of the day to crowd to a church to hear him preach, exhibiting a fervid enthus- iasm of sympathetic admiration that carries one's mind back to days long gone by, when Wales was, #we may almost say, ruled by its preachers, and the religious feeling was perhaps stronger and more generally diffused there than in any other part of the Cambrian world.' The Dean was born in the parish of Llan- gan, near Bridgend, in 1831. His father, Mr. John UoW'll, Pencoed, was a, representative layman, deeply interested in Evangelistic movements. After receiving his education in a school at Cowbridge, Mr. Howell became acquainted with Archdeacon Griffith, of Neath, who, finding in him unmistakeable marks of genius led him to prepare for Holy Orders. Subsequently he eniered the Diocesan Theolog- ical Institute at Abergavenny, where lie pro- secuted his theological studies. In toe year 1855 Mr. Howell was ordained to the curacy of Neath, where his old friend, Mr. Griffith, was rector. Here he remained IS S e months, and was then appointed Secretary for the Principality for the Church Pastoral Aid Society. At the end of three years, he was presented by the Bishop of Bangor to a living in Carnarvonshire, and he remained there for a similar time. For several years in the early part of his life he engaged largely in literary work, and was for some time connected with the press in South Wales. He contributed largely to the Welsh monthly publications, and became the founder and promoter of the Cyfaill Eglwysig,' a Welsh Church monthly. For many years he was a frequent competitor at the Welsh Eisteddvodau, but for some years past he has been principally engaged as adjudi- cator and speaker at such gatherings. In 1864 the important living of St. John's Cardiff, which, for nearly fifty years, had been served by a non-resident vicar, was given to Mr. Howell. His ministry at Cardiff was suc- cessful beyound measure. When he came, there were two services held at St. John's and two at St. Andrew's, which had just been opened, every Sunday. There were two Church schools containing a little more than 200 scholars. When he left, after eleven years' ministry, instead of four weekly services there were 13; in the place of two schools, there were six; the children attending them were 1,755, against 200 and at the Sunday School, which was practi- cally a new institution, there were 1,800 scholars, ranging in age from five years to 70 years of age: 'Dean Howell, indeed' (writes one who knew him well at the time), 'won here the hearts of all—the en mifcy of none. Eloquent as a preacher-^aetive as a pastor, there were few speakers of. the day who were his equal, and crowds attended the parish church.' The Dean's work at Cardiff, however, was too much for his bodily strength, and in 1S75 the then Bishop of St. Asaph offered the living of Wrexham, which he accepted and held for sixteen years, a C:tnonry being incidentally offered him aiid Tn IRÇlO h" appointed Archdeacon of Vvf&Ajuam, and n, appointment was ever made which met with more favour. His ministry at Wrexham was filled with active work. In a pamphlet dealing with the story of Welsh Church Extension in the four Welsh dioceses, it is remarked that no better example and no more truly realistic instance of the progress and success of the Church in Wales can be provided than the parish of Wrexham records from Easter, 1875, to Easter; 1891. Within the area of the parish of Wrex- ham, as it was at the time of the Archdeacon's appointment in 1875, more than £100,000 had been expended for distinct purposes of Church work and extension during that period. In the year 1875 there were chree churches and two mission rooms. There were live clergy with nine Sunday services, five celebrations during the month, 128 Easter communicants, and "ix Sunday Schools. At Easter, 1891, there were nine churches and live mission rooms. The clergy were 10, with 21 Sunday services, 22 communions during the month, 835 Easter communicants, and 14 Sunday Schools.
HENRY TATE'S MUNIFICENT GIFT TO THE NATION. One of the many public functions that will form a part of the Diamond Jubilee celebra- tions in June next will be the formal opening of the National Gallery of British Art at Miii- bank, now in course of completion. The cere- mony will be performed by the Prince of Wales. The building is erected on the site of old Mill- bank Prison. The architectural style is purely classic, freely treated with Greek feeling. This is chiefly noticeable in the capitals, friezes and mouldings. The basement, to a height of 10ft., is formed of rusticated masonry of Portland stone, which is the material used throughout the building. In the basement good accom- modation is provided, storerooms, picture-cl wan- ing rooms, rooms for students' easels reoms for the reception of pictures, furnaces, lavato- ries, &c. Access to the interior of the building from the Thames side, upon which the iront entrance is situate, is obtained by means of a fine flight of 24 steps, which are 40ft. in width. In designing the building the architect, Mr. R. J. Smith, F.R.I.B.A., aimed at enabling the visitors to enter and proceed right through all the galleries, without retracing their steps. On the first floor of the new building is the vesti- bule, which is about 50ft. long by 25ft. wide, and from which the central octagonal sculp- ture hall is approached. Thisliab is3Sft. across and is surrounded on the outside by a corridor 15ft. wide. In the lefb wing is situated the long gallery, the length of which is 93ft., atnd the breadth 32ft. Next to it is the flanking octagonal pavilion, just 32ft. across. A pavi- lion of like dimensions is placed on the rl,-bt wing of the building, in a simitar position. A smaller pallery, 60ft. by 32ft., completes the left wing. On the rightiherearetwogalleries, each GOft. by 32ft.,and the flanking octagonal pavilion already referred to. Tv.-0 Villus of stairs, composed of Silesian marhie,T*)ported from abroad, lead up to the corridor on the first floor, which, like that on the ground floor, is also 15ft. in width. On this floor there is only one gallery. Its dimensions are 50ffc. in length by 26ft."wide. Overhead is the dome, supported on a very handsome arcading, light in design, and composed of coupled Ionic columns with arches. The portico is supported by six Corinthian columns, 30ft. in height and 3ft. in diameter, with pediment on rop. Placed upon one end of this pediment is the figure of the British lion, and on the other the unicorn. In the cantre is a large figure of Britannia. The frontage on the river is aln:0 5 300ft. in length, and the facade presents a very line appearance indeed. There is considerable ground surround- ing the structure, which will be laid out in gardens, and enclosed by a-massive iron railing. The building is provided for the nation yy the munificence of Mr. Henry Tate, wlio, wi addi- tion to giving the sum of £ 100,000, has promised to present a large number of valuable pictures to form the nucleus of the collection to be housed there in the future.
COLWYN BAY AND COLWYN URBAN DISTRICT COUNCIL. THE CLERKSHIP. Mr. Thomas Parry (chainnar) predicted at a special meeting on Tuesday, iaine ap., plications had been received for the office of. clerk, vacant through the resignation of Mr. J. Porter. The following were considered:— Mr. J. H. Roberts, assistant, clerk, Rhyl; Mr. H. Parry, senior assistant, borough accountant, Banger; Mr. J. E. Hayes, Rush ton Urban District Council offices; and E. Houlding, Lytham. Mr R. Evans moved and Mr. H Davies seconded that Mr. J. H. Roberts be appointed. This was car rid unanimously. The salary is E130 a year. The Chairman complained strongly of the state of the gas la,mps in the town and the supply. He moved that a letter be sent to the Gas Company on the subject, and this was carried. The Clerk called attention to the approaching Cowlyd Board arbitration, which would be either on the 14th or 21st April. He should like the Council to depute the chairman and surveyor (Mr. W. Jones) to attend the arbitra- tion and give evidence if necessary. He had no doubt that the Cowlyd. Board wouM cal Mr. Farrington. On the motion of Mr. J. Roberts, the chair- man and surveyor were deputed to attend. The Council then resolved itself into a cele- bration committee of the Queen's reign. The Chairman advocated the erection of a cottage hospital, to whieh the whole district would subscribe, and he read a letter from Llan- ddulas in support of this suggestion. This would involve, no charge on the rates. The money would be raised by public subscriptions, and it would be a good thing to have collections in all the churches and chapels. It was suggested that Mrs. Frost (Minydon) 9. be approached with respect to giving a site. Mr. Blud supported the hospital suggestion, and believed it would get subcriptions from a very wide area. At the same time he saw no objection to the idea of completing the church tower and getting a peal of bells. He believed Canon Roberts would have the support of many Nonconformists in that movement. Mr. J. Porter was glad to hear Mr. Blud speek in such a broad-minded manner on that subject. The Chairman said he believed if the Council did inaugurate the hospital movement it would be well supported. He moved formally that the Jubilee or the Queen's reign be celebrated in that district by the opening of a subscription list towards the erection of a cottage hospital for Colwyn Bay and district. Mr. J. Porter seconded, and it was carried. It was decided that the three local banks be a.sked to receive subscriptions. I It was further resolved to hold a public meeting on the subject. Mr. J. Porter consented to be treasurer to the fund. It was further resolved to celebrate the reign by having a demonstration at the opening of the new promenade, and to give a treat to the old people.
The gunboat Skipjack from the Mediterran- ean has been ordered to pay off into the B Di- vision of the Chatham Fleet reserve as an em- ergency ship. Mr. L. V. Harcourt, son of Sir W. Harcourt, was elected by the Political Committee of the Reform Club as a member in recognition of distinguished service to the Liberal cause. The Rev. Josiah Adams, curate of North Meals Parish Church, was awarded at the Liver- pool Assizes £ 1,500 damages against the Lan- cashire and Yorkshire Railway, arising out of the collision at Preston Junction. Just she and I, all all alone beneath the stars so calm and bright; I told her that to me her cheeks were like twin lilies pure and white, But in the morning, as I brushed my powdered vest for half-an hour, I realised the lilies must have been am other kind of flour. '1.¿i."I..iííÎjlft'1f