The Glamorgan Gazette

THE STING. (Translated jrom the French.) In autumn, when thePyrcnneeseomimnccfo envelop* themselves in snow, the shepherds leave lie mountain with their troops of shivering sheep, their indoieii asses, and their faithful, shaggy old dogs. After sav- ing good-bye to their wives and kissing iheir little ones, they go singing toward the plain?,"where there is always plenty of grass, and the sun shines foi weeli., at a time. Toward Saint Michael's Bay, the countrymen s^e eomincr down the white roads shaded with yellow plantains the shepherds, in their tawnv capes, driving then- sheep before them. Then ihtse shepherds coin- men rv to gossip with the planters, who lodge and feed them for a portion of the milk during the time they are there. They often prove valuable acquisitions, for they generally fashion a pair of wooden shoes for the master of the hor.se. and something else for the mistress, perhaps a pair of woollen mittens, knit during odd periods. They remain until the first days of ^i;iy. he time for sowing. Then the sheep begin to bleat in an extraordinary way, the asses bray with impatience, and the dogs look longingly to the distant. mountains, and on some sunny morning the flocks start instinctively hy the white roads, where the budding plantains show their first leaves, toward the blue peaks. T/¡;]:i each autumn the shepherds come and go. always stopping at the same farmhouse if possible; I one sees them arrive a little more bent and a little greyer each year. The farmers who wait for old i men often see the same flock returning guided bv a i strange young boy, who will tell them bet ween the verses of his song that his father, the fonner, shepherd, died over there in the mountains, near Saint Louis' or Saint John's Day. On one of the first days in October, a pretty young girl was gathering chestnuts before a white house, when looking up she saw almost in front of her a long troop of sheep conducted by a vigorous donkey. Vt ill you be so kind as to tell me where I shall find the farmhouse of Jacques Duval?" asked a young shepherd, appearing with trouble behind the ears of the active donkey. "This is it," responded the girl. "I should have guessed it: my ticck haveall gone in the direction of your Held. I am Pierron, the son of i your old shepherd, Matthew, who has been dead now since Saint Lawrence's Day." '"Very well, I'ierron. Come, and I will take you to my fatller." Pierron was welcomed in the farmhouse as warmly as his father had been before him, and the sheep! nibbled in the familiar fields the barbs they had loved so much. j He was a good-look ing young fellow, this Pierron very small and very dark, with such a fresh voice that when he sang it seemed as if he gave pleasure to the echoes." He was not more than twenty-two, and knew the most amusing stories, which he told during the long evenings to the old women of the house and to the pretty Marie. And Marie, a smiling girl with e3'es as sweet as the clear light of the moon, loved to listen with the young people of the village to Pierron's stories of bugbears, witches, and of his sheep. She loved, too, th e blue mountains crowned with white of which he told her. But better st illshelovod the beautiful knitting needle, skilfully carved, that he gave her on a holiday, the pretty mittens he knit for her at Christmas, and the gentle fleecy lauib that he gave her when she was eighteen years old. It was with great sadness that Pierron discovered, one evening, some white flowers on a cherry tree. The spring had arrived. The sheep commenced to bleat in the fields, now covered with daisies, and the donkey, straightening his head, pointed his great ears toward the mountains. God be with you, Marie said the shepherd, in saying good-bye, after the fashion of his country. I must go." Marie bent her head a little and blushed a deep red. And then Pierron said, taking her hands and gazing into her face "Marie, if you think as much of me as I do of you, marry me when I come back in the fall. I love !rou wilh all my heart and soul, and I would like to ead you to the foot of that mountain to my good mother, who will love you well. It is true I am not very rich, but-" here his voice fell to a half tone— I think I know a way of procuring a fortune for one I love." "What is it, Pierron?" said Marie, raising her eyes. I have an uncle who was as poor as we are a short time ago; he has bought a house each year for 20 years now, and no one living with him has ever been sick. I also know an old servant who, without inheriting anything, has amassed twenty thousand francs in several years, and his wife has the most beautiful children of the country." "But how do you explain this, Pierron?" "It is because both my uncle and the servant, i carry with them a snake's sting which brings good luA." And does the sting of a serpent carry good luck with it ?" Yes, the stings of a certain kind, which I know." Why have you none on you then?" Oh, that would not prosper me any. It is necessary that I should not know I carry it some person must hide it in my clothing. It was my aunt who hid the sting in my uncle's coat and it was also the servant's wife who slipped one into her husband's. Sometimes when we play tenpins, on Sunday, at home, the women put stings in theii husband's pockets, and when they don't find theru they always win." Marie dared not smile at what he said she herself believed as much in these mysterious things as any of the old women who told her of them in a low voice, while crossing themselves. I must go now. Marie, you will reflect on this during the summer, won't you?" Yes, Pierron.' The weather wa s mild; the fields were full of little shepherd girls, and the apple trees covered the ground with a white sheet. The sheep of one will turned toward home, Pierron had to follow. For a long time Marie stood under the chestnut trees and watched the retreating figure of the shepherd who turned often to look at her. For a long time she heard the bells of the leaders, and thought she could distinguish the figure on the donkey, high on the near hill. After that she saw nothing except the distant blue mountains. ° When Pierron came back to the farmhouse the following autumn, he failed to find the beautiful, happy light in the eyes of Marie. The village maids, without doubt like those of the mountains, preferred often a tall, muscular man, who gained eighteen dollars a month in some large city to a lank Bhepherd with nothing but snakes' stings in his pockets. That is why Marie had promised to marry a young man of her own country, the happy Joseph Tauzia, who was coachman to a rich merchant from Bordeaux, and who meant to take her, covered with ribbons and cheap jewellry, to the city as soon aa they were married. Pierron's songs were sad that winter. But he was a very young man, and had never yet wished any one any harm, so he forgave Joseph. As the year advanced he gave Marie a pair of beautiful white mits, a pair of sabots, and on her nineteenth birthday the fattest and most beautiful of all his sheep. He spoke with respect to Joseph, that grand coachman, when he came to visit the j farmhouse at Easter. Marie never heard an unkind j word from his lips, and never saw an unforgiving light in the eyes of her old lover. But Pierron cared no more for his old joys he ate without the same relish the chestnuts cooked in fig leaves that Marie offered him as well as the other men of the household. He looked at her from a distance without saying a word, and if she addressed him he lowered his head, stammered a reply, then said good-night to his host and went to sleep in the granary with his sheep, where he could hear their peaceful breathing. One day Marie came to the field to speak to him. It was bright and sunny. and the poplars were open- ing their buds in the breeze. All the countrymen were planting their maize. Pierron, I am going to be married in three weeks, the first Tuesday in May. If you want to please me, you will stay in the country until the day of the wedding. I would like you for one of my groomsmen." Oh, thank you very much, Mademoiselle Marc," he stammered, "but I shall not be able to star so long. My sheep will want to go before your wedding, and if they do, I must follow them." c But he did not soon depart, though he several times made up his bundle and washed his donkey for the journey. One of his sheep became sick, a lamb was lost, and he had to stop and find it before setting out for home. Little by little the days grew warmer. Already the grasshoppers had commenced to sing. On all the bushes the caterpillars crept over the ieaves, and one stormy day Pierron saw a long viper on the border of a little stream. Meanwhile the dav of the wedding approached. What are you doing there, you ragamuffin?" It was Joseph, the coachman from Bordeaux, entirely dressed in black, who said this. It was his wedding day, and he had surprised Pierron in the chamber of the bride. Tell me what you are doing here ?" Pierron remained quiet. He quickly put some- thing it, his pocket that looked-like a needle-case, and looked at the groom, reddening to the roots of his hair. A coat of Marie's lay on a chair; the shepherd Appeared to tve searching this and JiCtf lit tiiruw biamelf in treat of iu "Y ou vagabond! Tell me right away what you were doing here." Joseph suspected him of some theft Pierron saw this in his eyes. I have stolen nothing," he cried, fiercely. I swear to you I have stolen nothing!" What are you doing here, then ? Tell me quickly!" The shepherd looked at him in perplexity. I command you to tell me why you are here." "Icannot,"answercdPierron. So, I cannot." The coachman made an aogry gesture, and taking Pierron by the ear, sent him out of the room with a blow from his foot. Get out of here, you jail bird Marie was dressed all in white her dress had been sent lioIllC froiii the city, and she looked so beautiful in it, with her sweet mouth and blue eyes, that few could refrain from telling her so. The bridal baggage had gone, and already the bridesmaids were impatiently taking the arms of their cavaliers to go to the church. But Marie went to her room first, after hearing from her lover what had happened an hour before. She saw her window half open, and her coat thrown on a chair. She became very pale. She quickly examined the garment: under the cape she found a little opening in the lining, and in this a tiny white paper in which was something long, black and sharp, that seem to terminate in a fork. A sting! Marie became paler yet, and her eyes filled with tears. She threw her coat on the chair, left her room and escaped into the garden without being seen. She went toward the granary. She heard the sheep bleating, and saw the shepherd, enveloped in his red cape, leaning against the fence .And then, very white among all the white sheep, she. who had perhaps never kissed a man before, gave a, kiss to Pierron. The shepherd partly closed his eyes and stain- Inerpd-- "You hare found it ? Oh, that is bad I wanted to hide it. Now it has no virtue You will go to live in Bordeaux ? I will never come back here. God be with you, Marie And so he went. The sun was very bright. On the road he turned to look at the bride, who was going toward the church, across the verdant fields, where voluntarily the swallows followed her. Then, from the near hill, he saw for the last time the farmhouse. He stopped there an instant until he heard the b»IIs ringing for the bride. Then, making the sign of the cross, he rejoined his flock, hisdonkev and his dog, and continued his way down tho hillside toward the distant blue peaks.

TUX A\I) FAXCY. AN Irishman, swearing the peace against LIT? three sons, thus concluded: The only one of my children who shows me any real affection is my youngest son, Larry, for he never strikes me when I'm down." "tOGR handwriting is very bad indeed," said a gentleman to a young college friend, who was more addicted to boating and cricketing than to hard 6tudy. "Ay!" returned the young man, "it is all very well for you to tell me that but if I were to write better, people would be finding out how I spell." A CHEMIST says tears are fimpiv "phosphate of lime, chlorate of sodium, and water." Now that the thing is understood, if a man's mother-in-law dies he can co to a drug store and get all the tears necessary for the occasion for about sixpence. Two men at. a club were suggesting the paternity of a picture on the walls, when one of them remarked, 111 wager you a guinea that that picture was painted by Sl>ee." I beg your pardon," said Lamb, in his driest manner, but would it not be more grammati- cal to sav painted by her t" MR. MAOCFFIS braced himself against the lodging- house table, and tried once more to cut the steak. The of the knife turned, but the meat showed no mark. Then he called to the waiter: Thomas, has the ceok used the axe much to chop wood 0101 the cellar doorsteps?" "I don't know," said Thomas. "Why do you ask, sir?" "Because," said Mr. Maguflin, if it ain't too dull, I'd like to try it on this steak." Grtzor once made a joke-grave and serious-as became him. A lady requested his favour, when he was a Minister, on behalf of a young gentleman, who wanted an embassy. "But," said the lady, naively, it must not be more than 2.) leagues from Paris." "Madam," said the Minister, "the first embassy vacant at Paris or the environs shall be given to your friend." A woopZN wedding: Marrying a blockhead. A golden wedding: Marrying for money. A crystal wedding: Marrying a "glass-eve." A tin wedding: Marrying a milkmaid. A paper wedding Marrying an editor. A plain wedding Marrying a carpenter. A silver wedding: Marrying It maid of CO. The worst sort of wedding: Marrying nobody. A glass wedding Marrying a toper. A cKitTArx chemist's shop keeps periodicals for 6ale, mid one day a young lady came in and asked for a paper for a week back. The proprietor, who has but little to do with this branch of the business, thinking only of medicine, gave her a plaster, and the poor girt fainted. THEEK was a parochial side-school in a remote nmirland district of a southern Scotch county, at which the attendance had, from various causes, atone time dwindled down to a single self-reliant boy and one forenoon, in a lull of school-work, the little fellow looked up with a reflective air, and said. Maister, a' think there'll bo nae schuling the morn." What puts that in your head, sir?" haughtily inquired the master; to which the callant immediately replied, "All no be here "—inferring that Othello's occupa- tion would then be gone. HKKB is the copy of a curious bill found among the ruins of Went worth Abbey: Nov. 1st, 1G05.— Rev. J. Maguire to J. Jones, joiner, for repairs to Roman Catholic Chapel.—For solidly repairing St. Joseph, 4d.; cleaning and ornamenting the Hoiy Ghost, Gd.; for repairing V. M., and making a new child, 5s. 6d for making a new nose to the devil, one new horn on his head, and glueing a piece to his tail. Cs. 6d.; total, 12s. lOd.—Settled. J. Jones. Tim young women m the Halifax works, savs a London correspondent, are certainly not pretty, but, they seem to have a fine flow of spirits. I am told that they have a remarkably fine taste in dress. A lady in Halifax having occasion to enter a milliner's shop had her attention attracted by a beautiful and very expensive French bonnet, and inquired the price she was told it was soW. Oh, I had no idea of buying such an expensive bonnet," said the lady. Upon which the milliner said, It is a joint- stock bonnet-that is, it belongs to three factory girls, who wear it by turns on Sunday." A GOODLY parson complained to an elderly lady of his congregation that her daughter appeared to be wholly taken up with trifles and worldly finery, instead of fixing her mind on things above. You are cer- tainly mistaken, sir," said she. "I know that the girl appears to an observer to be taken up with worldly things, but you cannot judge correctly of the direction her mind really takes, as she is a little cross-eyed'' A Rux of Luck—Winning a race. I WAS showing my watch to my nephew, who wa* about six years old," says a celebrated writer, "when he pointed lo the face of the old dial, and said, 'Why there is another little watch.' I said,' It is called the second hand.' He tossed his head contemptu- ously and walked off, saying, I wouldn't own a second-hand watch. I HAVE come for my umbrella," said a lender of it on a rainy day to a friend. Can't help that,' said the borrower. "Don't you see that I'm goinc out with it ?" Well, yes," replied the lender, astonished at such outrageous impudence; yes, but ■—but what am I to do?" "Do ?" said the other, ap he opened the umbrella and walked off, do as I did -borrow one." TllB family is just about sitting down to the mid- day meal, and some of little Frank's especially favourite dishes are already on the board. At that moment a letter is brought announcing the death of an aunt. "Papa," suggested the lad, apprehensively, "instead of crying over it now, don't you think we'd better oat dinner first ?" STBA-N-GUR, entering a loan office, in which he noticc3 he is the only customer. The people here must be firetty well to do. Nobody making use of the estub- ishment." "Just the contrary," answered the attendant; they've nothing left they can pawn." You call that a hard winter? Why, I remember when it was so cold that the polar bear in the Zoo broke out of his cage, tore his way into the snake- house, and when caught was found there with one of the biggest boas 'round his neck PEKDtTA Well, Jack and I are to be married at last, and we are so happy." Penelope Did you and Jack have some trouble in getting your father's consent ?" Perdita No but papa and I had an awful lot of trouble in netting Jack's consent." TrrE Princess of Wales is known to be a pianist of no mean capacity, and the other afternoon in the Bemi-privacv of her own home, she played duet with the young Hungarian artist,, Miss Ilona. Eibcnschiitz. It was in the course of a programme given at Marlborough House by Miss Eibenschiit7., whose re- cital lasted nearly three hours, and besides the Princess, the Duke of York and his two unmarried riisters were present. GEORGE," said the fond parent, you took my II overcoat instead of your own, and I found the pockets full of cigarettes and matches." "I dis- covered my mistake, father," replied the eon, dircM 1v I got outside, for the pockets of the coat I had on contained chocolate creams and three pairs of ladies' gJvTSfc"

FARMING NPTES. SWKPH Sowisn.— Swedes should now (nrfufcei Profe&or h tn ile Aarbn<Huml Gazelle) be sown. The beginning of June is an excellent time. On poor, high-lying lands good crops of swedes may be secured by early drilling, and from Mav 20ih to 31st might be named as a good season. On low-lying, warm lands as good a result may be obtained by sow- ings effected in late June or even during the first or second week of July. Even-one knows that yellow turnips and white turnips allow of successful drilling throughout, June and July, and late turnips may be drilled in August. As the season progresses it ii good policy to drill varieties of roots which may bo still regarded as in good season. We should relin- quish mangel vrurzel in favour of swedes, swedes in favour of yellow turnips, or yellow turnips in favour of white turnips, rather than persist in plans made before events fully developed. Till] SEASON.—Whether or not the bottom has fallen out of the finest season on record remains tn be seen. Turning over the pages of an old standard work on farming a few days ago, we derived comfort from the following couplet A cold May and a windy Makes a full barn and a findy. Excellent ryhming, but, like many rhymes, requiring a word of explanation, to the un- initiated. In North country phrase "findy" means something rapable of rewarding search. Thus a good find leads up to the idea of "findy," and a full barn and a findy is clearly a barn which yields or gives well. We were glad to find this piece of folk lore, for a cold Mav and a windv we have had, and we hope the rent will follow. Certain it is that a seasonable check was needed for corn. and we are not disposed to complain. The weather is now growing in character, and heavy storms, alternated with 11 sunshine and accompanied bv softer winds from the west, have again produced a change for the better. HAY ANn OTIIEU CROrs.—We cannot complain of the hay crop, as it is cutting up fairly well all round. The welcome change in the weather is stimulating rapid growth, so that old field and water meadows are now likely to yield heavily. What we shall soon need will be a dry, warm time for securing them in good condition. The prospects of straw and root crops are now excellent, and early sown rape and swedes are coming fast up to the hop..As to straw, barley and oats are undoubtedly thick and heavy, but wheat, is thin on the ground, and needs heat badly. There arc many complaints of the wheat crop, and really it is about time to relinquish its cultivation as far as possible. Straw and hav are both likely to be abundant, and roots also, so that the prospect of keep is as good as last year at this time it was bad. MANGEL WrnxRL.—The season has been too cold and harsh for mangel, and we have many com- plaints of slugs and insect attacks. Germination has been slow and irregular, and in many cases the plant is short and weak. It will be necessary to drill turnip seed over some of the thinner portions in order to secure something on the land. It. seems perhaps unreasonable to speak of the season as cold and harsh, after all the blessings we have ex- perienced for months past, but a period answer- ing suohadescriptMn occurred just at, the time the mangel plants were appearing, and continued almost ■ p to date. A RARE MILKER.—Among the maxims of dairy farmers in the north of England, one probably of great antiquity was (says the Lire Stock Journal) current at the country fairs of 40 or 50 years ago. As spoken in the local diale t, of the Vales of Ribble, Wenninsr. or Lune (varying, but having much in common), it would be, perhaps, unintelligible to the general reader. Translated into the vernacular ton !!n e, it laid down the rule that" the milk goes in at the mouth in other words, if you want a cow to give yon plenty of milk, you must. feed her liberally. In one of the truly rural little towns thereabout (by strangers insultingly mistaken for villages) the May Fair business had begun. when a raw, sawney-looking youth, just beginning life as n gentleman farmer," strolled along the street. What do you want for your cow, my man ?" he asked, addressing a shrewd-faced old chap with a crooked ash stick in his hand, and a quid of tobacco in his cheek, standing alongside a down-calver. Eighteen pund ten, sir," was the quick response, "an' a rare milker shoo is wen sboo's getten coved but I wain't tell ve na less, sir, t' milk gangs in at t'mootli. ye knaw." Won by the frank- ness of the old fellow, the young man secured the cow without much demur as to price, and sent her to his farm. Indue time she calved, and the truth of the old man's warning was very soon evident; she was an incorrigible self-sucker. DRAWBACKS TO PROFITABLE CATTLE FEEDING.— Apart from the competition of States-fed beef, which reduces prices so that only a bare profit remains for English enterprise, feeders (" W. G." writes) have to face the drawbacks consequent upon the high values of store cattle in proportion to fat ones, and, worse still, the underbred, unthrifty character of a large proportion of the stores introduced by dealers to meet the requirements of graziers. All the year round, but especially in the spring months, great droves of store cattle, a large proportion of them light-fleshed, coarse-hided, underbred animals, no better, if as good. as the scrub cattle we read of in foreign lands, are brought to the weekly markets of North Shropshire, and taken on in like manner into Staffordshire, neither county breeding anything like sufficient for its needs, the graziers proper as a rule rearinl, no calves, but trusting to others for their store stúck, while the dairy farmers, intent upon keening up the number of their milking cows, only rear suffi- cient heifers to fill up the yearly vacancies. Thus the dealers, and the stock they have collected in dis- tant markets, have largely to bo depended on for feeding beasts. But why, I would ask, should so large a proportion be of such a miserable character? As a nation we boast of possessing the finest flocks of sheep and herds of pure-bred cattle in the world. Foreign nations send to us and pay high prices to secure animals that will effect an improvement among their own. and yet in the very midst, of all our wealth of hich-dnss cattle we find thousands of low-class animals without. a redeeming feature to show, raised venr after vear, and scattered about the country to aid in making beef-raising still more unprofitable than outside conditions combine to make it. I presume the cattle to which I refer are chiefly raised bv small farmers in the poorer districts; some of them do, in fact, show traces of a Hereford cross, and these prove by their superior thrift the influence of good blood, but a large proportion show all the signs of unmitigated poverty, alike of pocket, of land, and of all ideas of progressive farming, and this, to mv mind, is very lamentable, considering how much even the introduction of a few well-bred bull calves each year into a district would effect. Might not au effort iii this direction be made, as it has in horse- breeding in the congested districts of Ireland? It would not need the introduction of valuable and high-priced pedigree stock, so much as that the calves should be pure-bred and fairly good of their race. I often see such sold at 30s. to 40s. each, which of* necessity would exert a vast influence for good, if they had the chance, upon inferior herds. It mav be obiected that it is only the common hardy- native cattle that can exist under the conditions in which many of them are reared: but if the Here- ford or Shorthorn cows were found unsuited for the exposure and scantv food of the hill farms, surely the offspring of the North Devon bull or the Black Poll, when mated with the native scrubs, would be able to stand the exposure, and with a better class of beasts to seli would come better prices, and a greater ability to supplement the innutritious food by something better. Knowing the capabilities of our land, and the superior qualities of our herds, it is very sad to see year after year these thriftless, wretched animals bandied about from fair to fair, for neither to the farmer who breeds and rears them, nor to him who essays to feed them can they afford either satisfaction or profit. To the presence of so large a proportion of stores of inferior quality is also due the fact that the few well-bred ones for disposal realise prices out of proportion to the value of those that have been fatted. It is a general complaint that store cattle of fair type are costing as much per cwt. live weight as the fat ones sell at. with the added disadvantage that the carcase weight of the former is much less in proportion to its live weight than is that of the latter, so that the grazier pavs considerably more per pound for the lean flesh he buys in than he is able to realise for the ripe flesh he sells out. In my younger days it wns always pointed out to me that. the most profitable method of beef-producing was to purchase half-fed or three-parts-fed beasts, because they could be bought at less per lb. than fat ones, and would afterwards pay twice over for their food, once by the increase in weight, and again by the increase in value of the prime beef over the half-fed, and I have found the advice sound but this nowadays is not to be done very easily, and there can be no doubt that when a feeder has to pay cs much or more per I b. for his store cattle as he can get for his tat ones he is labouring under a great drawback to profitable feeding, while even a greater drawback is experienced when only animals of unimproved, underbred type are procurable.

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LITERARY EXTRACTS. CoAL.—That the vegetation entering into the com- position of coal grew on land is proved by the fact that, no matter what variation any sean; may present, it has usually an underclay, which underclay-or fire-stone, fire-bricks being made from it—contains the roots of the plants of which the coal is composed. In short, it was the soil in which they grew. In this 9 underclay also are found great quantities of Lepitlos- trobi, which dropped to the ground from trees on which they grew, while athwart the coal-seams are the trunks of the Sigillnrifc converted into sandstone. Unnumbered eons ago these ancient trees crashed amid the tangled vegetation of which they formed a part. Yet, as if showing how eternal are the laws of Nature, every now and again a miner is hurt, or killed by a coal-pipe," as he calls it, dropping on his head from the seam on which he is working. It came under the influence of the law of gravity millions of years ago; the pick of the collier loosens the, fossilised vegetation a/ound it, and instantly the arrested law resumes its operation by the trunk fall- ing to the floor of the coal-pit. Sometimes, within the area of a quarter of an acre, as many as 73 frees with their roots attached have been found, showing how dense were the jungles, the decay of which gave origin to the coal-seams. The coal is covered with shale formed of the mud which gathered over the fallen vegetation, and yet, though some coals are worse than others, the abseuce of earthy particles and sand from their substance is remarkable. This purity, Sir Charles Lyell suggests, may be due to the upper layers of t he fallen vegetation filtering and clearing the muddy waters which overwhelmed them of any mechanical impurities, just as the Mississippi floods are strained of sediment when they invade the dense thickets of vegetation on each side of the river. Hence, when a fire is lit in a dry portion of a Louisiana "cypress swamp," pits are burnt into the ground many feet deep without more than a small amount of earthy matter being left behind. At, the bottom of all of these swamps a bed of clay is found with the roots of the tall cypresses permeating it, just as the underclays of the coal-beds are filled with stigmaria*. The varied qualities of coal which render it suitable for so many purposes depend, no doubt, on the varied composition of the vegetation which originally entered into its mass. Hence, one team is good for the gas manufacturer, another is in favour for raising steam, a third immediately over it is in demand for smelting, while a fourth is of commercial value mainly for burning in domestic grates.—OUT Eari/i and /is St,n--il. TIM LUXURY OF PLAYING THE FOOL.—I remetnbei a friend of Douglas Jerrold telling how he and Dickena and Tom Hood and Leech and Lemon played leapfrog after a game of bowls on Jerrold's lawn, and how draughts was a favourite pastime of Dickens and Jerrold. By the way, do you remember the story of Cardinal Mazarin, who used to shut himself up in a room and jump over chairs? He would arrange them in varying degrees of difficulty, and end in n y kind of solitary steeplechase. One day he forgot. t4: lock the door. A young courtier entered. Equal tc the embarrassing situation, he exclaimed, "I'll bet your Eminence two gold pieces I can beat that jump." Says Mr. Thistleton Dyer, who relatee the story in his "Great Men at Play,' He was wise enough to lose his two gold pieces, but before long he gained;1 mitre." Then there was Dr. Samuel Clarke, who played with his boys at swimming on a table." Oiikt day, on the approach of a pedantic acquaintance, lit closed the frolic with the remark. Boys, be wise. Here comes a fool." A favourite indoor pastime of Dugald Stewart, the philosopher, was the balancing of a peacock's feather on his nose. The other night, at a classic music-hall in a provincial city, I saw a man balance two feathers on his nose, toss in the air a continuous stream of balls and catch thein in r. cluster of cups, while he was whirling n imd a some- what narrow stage on a bicycle. Patrick Eraser Tytler often competed with Stewart in the pcaeoek's feather business. Bicycles were not in vogue at that time, or the philosopher and the historian mic-ht have extended their rivalry to feats on wheels. Faraday, after a game of romps at the Royal Institution, once sallied forth into the street on a velocipede which he had been riding round the theatre. Lord Eldon bought a house in the country that. his indoor and outdoor games might not be disturbed by sudden calls to councils and consultations. You don't know the luxury of playing the fool," h3 said to a family party, before whom he had indulged in a jump into the drawing-room and a little dance to a tune of his own composing.—Idler. DEAN SWIFT says the common fluency of speech in most men and most women is owing to a scarcity of matter and scarcity of words; for whoever is a master of language, and hath a mind full of ideas, will be apt, in speaking, to hesitate upon the choice of both. BE checked for silence, but never taxed for speech. —Shakespea re. WONDERS OF THE BACTERIA.—The most interest ing facts of science are sometimes concealed under hard and repellant names. Who would suppose, for in- stance, that such words as phototaxis" and cbe- miotaxis" really cover very fascinating discoveries, for the enjoyment of which no profound scientilic knowledge whatever is required. Phototaxis means the influence of light on the movements of the simplest living organisms. The facts that it includes are as surprising as they are interesting. There is a kind of bacterium, shaped like a minute rod, and of a purple colour, which exhibits this influence of light in a beautiful manner. Indeed it, has been named the light-measuring bacterium. If a drop of water containing these bacteria is placed under r. microscope, and a narrow beam of light is thrown upon any part of the field of view, the organisms immediately flock to the illuminated spot until by their great numbers they turn that part of the water to the colour of wine. Then, too, they discriminate between colours; for when Engelmann threw instead of a beam of white light a microscopic spectrum into such a drop, the bacteria avoided the purple ana crowded into light of that colour which is absorbed in passing through their bodies. Just so another bacterium, the euglcna, which is red or orange- coloured at the forward end, always advances towards blue light when a choice is given to it among the colours of the spectrum. Chemiotaxis is a simila, phenomenon, depending not upon light but upon the presence of chemical agents. An instance of this is furnished by the behaviour of the common bacterium termo when in the water-drop containing it a little oxygen is disengaged. Immediately the organisms flock to that part of the water where the oxygen is being liberated. Similarly other orgnnisms are attracted by sugar or by some acid. One of the most wonderful cases is that of a kind of plasmodium, called Badhamia, an organism that consists of trans- parent, structureless, living material which spreads itself along a wet surface. When near the edge of this flat, shapeless, yet living thing, a bit of fungus is placed, that part of the Badhamia which is nearest becomes excited, and streams of living material begin to flow through the mass toward that point. Then the organism commences to grow out toward the fungus, and gradually envelopes it, and the operation ends with the absorption of the fungus. These curious phenomena assume a new interest when we learn that what we call inflammation is a result of chemiotaxis. Whenever disintegration takes place through injury inflicted upon any of the living tissues of the body, certain organic cells which exist in the blood and other fluids congregate ut the in- flammatory centre and feed upon the products of disintegration. It has, therefore, been suggesred that these chemiotactic cells are like scavengers in the blood, which tend to free it from infection.— Youth's Companion.

THE WOMAN'S WORLD. THE reappearance in public life of the Princess of Wales is welcomed by the World, which remarks: The possibility of her Royal Highness's more or less permanent withdrawal from Court, from the supreme leadership of society, from presiding over those high State functions in which she so admirably replaced the Queen, has always been viewed with something like consternation. No one liked to pro- test. Her sorrows were sacred a mother's poignant, grief can never be assuaged. Still, her prolonged re- tirement, during which the brightest afid most. brilliant side of society was practically eclipsed, has acted most prejudicially, and has tended mosfc materi- ally to maintain adverse conditions. Nothing, roaliy, could compensate for the disappearance of the Princess of Wales from the social life of .England. By her beauty, which seems perennial, and her natural grace, her Royal Highness is eminently fitted for the position, and she has even won golden opinions as the cynosure of Court circles ard the accepted leader of fashion. It is not too much to assert that. if her Royal Highness can bring herself to reoccupy the high position which is hers by right, by especial fitness, and by tlie cordially expressed wish of all, if some show of gaiety, however sober and sub- dued, can be revived at Marlborough House, the whole country will benefit by it, and will unite in grateful acknowledgments to the Prince and Princesa of Wales."

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COEDWIGFAB AR El HOLIDAYS. Meusydd Caradog, Salisbury Plains, Mehefin 4ydd, 1894. Mr. Gol.,—Nid yn fynych y byddweh yn clywed o'r lie hwn leallai; ac ondodid na fyddai gair oddiyma am unwaith yn ddarbyniol gan ddarllenwyr y Glorian. Daethum i'r lie hwn ddoe er mwyn cael golwg ar orchestwaith y Derwyddon o'r hen oesau, set Gwaith Emrys, Stonehenge; ond gan ei bod yn rhy hwyr ar y dydd i fyned hyd at y meini L)erwyddol, penderfynais letya mewu lie a elwir Amesbury, taa dwy filltir oddiwrthynt, ac aethum allan yma yn mrig yr hwyr i gael trem ar y gymydogaeth. Wedi cerdded tu haner milltir o fy llety, cyfarfyddais a dyn o ymddangosiad boneddwr gwledig ar yr heol, yr hwn a drodd allan i fod yn un o gentlemen farmers Lloegr. Cyfarchodd fi yn serchog, a dechreuodd siarad ar unwaith fel pe buasai yn falch o'r cyfle i gael chat gyda rhywun, ac wedi iddo ddeall mai amaethwr oeddwn ymdaan- gosai yn fwy wrth ei fodd, a siaradodd yn rhydd ac yn rhwydd ar bob cwestiwn o amaethyddiaeth, a gwahoddod, fi i ddyfod gydag sf i weled y fferm; ond nid oedd rhaid cerdded yma nac acw, yr oeddem yn ei chauol eisioes. Yr oedd y meusydd, neu yn hytrach. y lleuyrch mawrion a elwir Plains of Salisbury, ar bob Haw, heb na llwyn na pherth rhyngddynt a'r heol fawr, ac nid oes ond ffiniau bychain inegis o wellt rhwng tyddyn a- thyddya yma. Ar un Haw yr oedd tua thri ugain erw o wenith rhagorol o hyd pythefnos i dori yn y dywysen, ar y Haw until, tua'r un faint o haidd eto; yn nes yn mlaen, cnydau rhagorol o geirch, rhug, a gwair ac hadau, ac yr oedd yn amlwg ei fod yn amaethwr o'r radd flaenaf. Ac yr oedd fel amaethwyr yn gyiiredin y flwyddyn hon, fel yn molianu am y toraeth gwlaw eydd wedi disgyn i fwydo'u daear. Cyferehais ef am ei lwyddiant o fod yn amaethwr da, a chydnabyddodl yntau finau yn serchog am hyny o foesgarweh. Ond y gwaethaf yw ebe fe, nis galiwn gael dim am ciu hamser a'n cyfalaf (capital) y dyddiau hyn wrth amaethu. Rhaid, ebe fe, i'n llywodraeth osod toll ar nwyddau tramorol, neu yntau i'r tirfeddianwyr ostwng y rhentoedd a pha un fyddai oreu yn ol eich bam obwi, ebe fe. Ateb< ii iuau wrth gwrs iy mod yn credu mwy yn yr olaf. Ie. ebe yntau, ond pa bryd y gwnant hyny, beth a fyddwn gwell iddyut ei wneud ar ol i ni fethu i gyd. Y mae yma ddwy tiirm, eisioes, ar law un arlwydd, a methu cael deilad. Ceisia genyf fi edryeh am un iddo a ddymunech chwi gael un ebe fe. Siglais inau fy mhen ar hyny, ond gofynaia iddo os oedd y ffermydd yn rhai mawr. Atebodd nad oeddent yn fawrion iawn, 1m bod tua mil o erwau yr un. Fferm fechan sydd genyf fi ebe fe, nid yw droa bed war cant a thri ugaiu a deg o erwau ond telais £4,060 wrth ddyfod i mewn iddi, gan fy mod yn cymeryd y stock a'r cnydau a phob peth, ac nid yw yn werth ond prin oymaint lieddy w, ebe fe. Wel, ebwn iuau, mae'n debyg oni bai eich bod yn ffermwr da na fuasech wedi dal eich tir cystal. Chwarddodd gyda hyny, ac ebe fe wedyn, ai ni hoitcch chwi gael fferm yma r Siglais inau fy mhfn wedyn. Weiebs fe, yr wjf finau yn aros hob briodi i gael gweled os gwella'r amser i tioriuu. Felly, Mr Gol., chwi welwch fod amser drwg yn cyrhaedd yn mhell. Gan ei bod yn awr yn hwyrhau, dymunwn fyned tua'm llety, ond cymhellodd fi i ddyfod i fewn gydag ef i'r ty, lie rhoddodd imi roesaw teilwng o'r boneddwr, a phan aethum ymaith hebryngodd fi yn garedig i'r heol. Yn wir byddaf yn meddwl yn well am fy nghefnder, y Sain, o hyn allan. Y mae dyn cauedig yn Lloegr yu debyg iawn i ddyn caredig yn Nghymru. Boreu dydd Mawrth eto, myned. i fyny o bentref Amcsbury, am tua dwy filltir, drwy feusydd Caradog (Plains of Salisbury) hyd Waith Emrys (Stonehenge) lie y cafodd fy nghy wreinrwydd wledd felusach na ddarfu iini gael gan fy nghyfaill Seisnig serchog ddoe. Golygfa rhyfedd yw hon, er fod yr adeilfa yn adfeilion heddyw. Yr oedd photographer yn y lie pan gyrhaeddais yno, ac yr oedd yn un a feddai ddychymyg a medrusrwydd hefyd. Yr oedd ganddo amry.w. arluniuu o'r adfeilion wedi eu tynu ac un a dybygid ei fod yn ddarlun cymhwys o'r hyn ydoedd yr adeilfa yn ddechreuol. Tybir, yn awr, fod rhyw ddadym- chweliad wedi cyuieryd lie ar y gw-aith rywbryd yn y gorphenol pell; naill ai gan ddaeargryn, neu gan ewyllyswyr drwg ond mae digon. ohono yn aros i synu hyd yn oed peirianwyr mwyaf dyfei^gar yr ces hon. Nid oes neb yn deall pa. fodd y dygwyd y meiui anferthol eu maiut yma, o ryw bellderoedd, ac eu gosodwyd yn daclus ar eu gilydd, rhai wedi eu planu yn eu sefyll yn y ddaear, ac eraill wedi eu cymhwys-gydgy.sylltu ar benau y rhai byn. Rhifuis ddeuddeg-ar-ugaiu o rai mawriou, o ba rai y mae dau-ar-ugain fel colofnau yn sefyll heddyw. l)-y wedir fod rhai o'r mwyaf ohouynt tua phumtheg neu ddwy-jir-buintheji o dunelli o bwysau. Y mae un maen mawr aruthrol yn sefyll ar ei ben ei hun, rai canuoedd. o latheni oddiwrth y lleill tu chodiad haul. Tyhid gan rai gynt, mai, iaethu ei ddwyn at y lleill a wnaed; ond meddylir yn awr ei fod wedi ei osod o bwrpas yn y fan y saif heddyw; canys pan sefir yn nghanol yr adeilfa ar yr unfed-ar- ugain o Fehsfin meddir, ar y cynddydd, ceir gweled yr haul yn codi yn union dros ei ben. Talai yr hen Geltiaid warogaoth neu addoliad i'r haul fel yr amlygiad perffeithiaf o Dduw mewn anian, a thebyg yw mai teml i'r perwyl hwnw ydoedd hon wedi ei bwriadu. Y mae ei disgwylfa yn union i'r dwyrain, tua chodiad haul, a thua chryd y teulu dynol, y He y credid i'r Creydd roddi yr amlygiad llawnaf o'l bresenoldeb. Sylwaia fod amryw grugiau, neu domenau uchel o bridd mewn gwahanol fanau yn yr ardaloedd yma, a phan ofynais i un cyfaill pa beth oeddent, atebodd mai beddrodau y lladdedigion a leddid mewn brwydrau yn yr amsoroedd cyntefig oeddent, pan oedd y gwahanol lwythau yn yraladd efo'u gilydd. Cefais fy moddhau yn yr atebiad yn fawr ni ddisgwyliwn i Sais ateb, yn well.—Yr eiddoch, COEDWIGFAB.

LINES Written on the death of Mrs MARGARET DAVIES Penhyddwaelod, Bryntroedgam. We grieve to think thy sun is set, For years that shone so bright, 'T has brought a pang of sad regret To lose thy precious light; We need not for thy presence crave, On Zion's hill art thou, Quite safe beyond the torrid wave, Where mercies ever flow. Thy place no more shall know of thee Wait more we shall in vain, Oh, no, her never shall we see, Return she wen't again We miss thy hand and tender heart, Which long had served ue true, But God ordained you should depart, His plans the best are, too. To mother earth thy mortal clay, We now return to eaae; Thy spirit took its flight away, Where glories never cease So, further in thy parlour rest, Until the Voice above— Shall call the whole eternal blest, To join the band of love. Farewell, dear friend, we nevermore Shall meet upon this land, But hope to meet on Canaan's shore, Among the peaceful band Th3 grace of God-enalole us To wait and watch that day, When death shall come and call our souls From death to pass away. Bryntro-dgam. W. MAKTILII. i

LUNELLAU Ar briodas Mr R.L. WILKINS, Penybont-ar-Ogwy, a Miss M. B. LOTTGHEB, Glyndderwen, Abcrtawe. Priododd ein Wilkins, ma«rr newydd yn ffaith, Priododd ein cyfaill, a da oedd y gwaith Priododd hoff weithiwr taleotog y lie, Priododd ef hefyd yn hyfryd o dde Pricdodd yn dcilwng o'i enw a'i swydd, A phwy drwy y lIe na cheisia ei lwydd. Miss Lougber oedd enw ei gydmares wiw, Cyfamod a ffurfiwyd, cylymwyd rai gwiw Bu ieuo cymharus, a gweddus a theidi, Ar ddydd y priodas yn Eglwys y Coity. Priodas hawddgarach, anwylach ni fu, 0 fewn i holl Gymru, myaegaf yn hy'. Llwydd, llwydd i'r ddau ieuanc hyd dranc yn y byd, Boed gwenau Rhagluniaeth i'w noddi o hyd Na ddeued dim rhwystran aunyinuucl, na chroes I gwrdd a'r ddau ddedwydd hyd derfyn eu hoes Ond Daw mewudaioui fo'n wastad o'u tu, Hyn geisiaf i'm cyfaill a'i briod fwyn, gu. Pan dderfydd eu gyrfa ddaearol, rai gwiw, Derbyniad a gaffont i breswyl ein Duw; Eu rhinwedd drwy'r yrfa hyd Wynfa fo'n fawr, A'u clod fo ar gynydd, ddau ddedwydd eu gwayvr. Pob da fedd y ddaear a'r nefoedd uwchben, Fo i'a cyfaill hawddgar, a'i briod—Amen. HWNTW.

AFTER THE STORM. Last night a storm had swept, O'er sea and land, and left Some tokens on the beach Whilst on the smiling peaceful land, Some broken boughs and drifted sand, And the cottage bright of thatch Whilst in the meadows lie the flowers, Mingled with blossoms from the bowers— Crushed and strewn And on the rocks the hearttongue fern Hangs low her head, and to discern Her many broken stems; The la.rk in sky gives melody To sooth the grief, and for to see Those remnants of her joy. The sky is dark save where Some fleecy cloud is there To show a contrast, And the distant hills are crowned, For on their summits frown The lowing cloud, To hide her head of rocky chieff, And in the evening then to lift And disappear. To paint her to the waters low, From setting sun in golden glow, To ask forgiveness. The fern is sparkling with the dew, And nods her head to storm adieu, And smiles with moistened eye. The flowers bloom and lift their heads, In wood and meadows mossy bed, To taunt defiance. Birds give song to join life's tale, In pluiu or wood with nightingale— Tiru tiru troo to you, All nature smiles the time beguile, All round that are till on the dial No shadows seen; But still a silence then is born, For bat and owl are now forlorn, And nature sleeps. Sleeps from the stormy winds, Sleeps when the sunset finds, Sleep with you. Those flowers in dew all earth's from view, The silence says adieu to you, One knows 'tis true, That the storm has past what storm can last To bind all ntture in her throes has past, To hush their song. Bridgend. G. H. REKAB.

YMYLON Y FFORDD. ME. GOL.,—Nid yn ami y gwelir gair YI y Glorian o'r lie yma, set Bryncethin; mae yma lawer o bethau a ddylent gael goleu ddydd. Yr hyn sydd genyf yu fwyaf neillduol yr wyth- noshon ydyw ymddygiad rhai o'n pobl ieuainc yn Nhy Dduw gresyn na baent yn diwygio bellach a chymaint o wialeuajlau wedi bod uwch eu penau. Ond gwelaf 'does dim yn tycio hyd yn hyn. Bobl ieuainc, arafwch, byddweh yn wyliadwrus, peidiweh gwneyd y cysegr ya chwareudy os na ellwch ddyfod i fyny i addoli rhowch lonydd i'r rhai sydd am wneyd felly. Chwi ferched sydd yr chwareu a rhai bach, os na ellwch dalu sylw i'r hyn sydd yn myned yn mlaen, arosweh gartref rhag cywilydd. Peidiwch gadael i'r rhai bach lefain fel lici; yn hytrach, ewch a hwy allan. Chwithau'r gwidwod, peidiwch trin a thrafod pawb sydd yn myned i mewn ac allan i'r capel, neu bydd i mi griko peth ar eich gwallt.—Yr eiddoch yn serchog, GWYLTWB.

IN MEMORY Of Miss JOANNA ESAUS, the daughter of Mr and Mrs ESAIAS (Kenfig Hill), who died Sunday, June 3rd, 1894, aged 19 years. Why is all the place in sorrow ? What has happened here to-day ? Death at noon came here to borrow, And a dear one took away. Ah how sudden was the warning, And the sickle, oh, how bright, For the Reaper said that morning, I will bring my sheaf to-night. True he carried out the order, And returned so very soon, With a dear one, loved so tender, In his arms that afternoon. Dear Joanna was the jewel' He required for the crown,' To her parents it seemed cruel, To deprive them of their own. How they struggled hard to keep her, How they tvied the blow to shun, But the sickle marked the deeper, Early came her setting sun. Like arose in nature's garden, Very lovely, sweet, and fair, And so very like an angel She enjoyed the summer air. Many were the hope you cherished, You had guarded her 8 > well, And the love of Christ her Saviour, Very young she learnt to tell. If God saw it right to take her. To himself where angels dwell, Try to bear without a murmur, All the Saviour does is well. o the anguish of parting, With your dear one from home, Never can you cease from weeping, Yet the voice now bids her come. If you could but see the beauty, Of the home where she has gone, You would feel it quite your duty, To say, Lord, thy will be done.' There is comfort still remaining, You may meet her yet once more, And to think your own dear daughter, Is not lost but gone before.' Try and bear this great affliction, God has only claimed his own, For a higher, holier mansion. Where all partings are unknown. Kenfig Hill. S. RICHABDS.

CYMANFU GANU YN MAESTEG. Cynaliwyd cymanfa ganu y Bedyddwyr yn Maesteg, Mehefin 4ydd, yn yTabernacl a Bethania, dan arweiniad y brawd anwyl a ffyddlon Mr Samuel Davies, G. and L., Maesteg. Cawsom gymaufa fendigedig, y goreu, medd rhai, ag yr ydys yn gofio. Datganwyd y gwahanol hymnau gyda dylanwad a hwyl fawr. Dechreuodd y gymanfa gyda Duw, a chredwn ei fod wedi bod drwyddi. Datganwyd Mordaith,' o eiddo Mr John Thomas, Cwmparc, yn ardderchog. Yn mhlith y tonau ganwyd yr oedd Sychu y dagrau,' a chafwyd hwyl yu iawn arni hefyd. Y mae yn dda genym allu dyweyd hefyd fod tonau swynol o waith brodyr o Maesteg yn cael eu datganu yno hdyd. Cafodd 'Can y milwr' ei chanu'n fendivedig. Diolch i Dduw ei fod yn codi dynion cyffelyb i'n cyfaill, a'r brawd Mr Davics yn enwedig vyda chaniadaeth y cysegr. Duw a'i fendithio a llawsr o flynvddau eto i'w wasanaethu, nid yn unig gyda'r canu, ond gyda phob rhan o'r gwaith da y mae'n ymwneyd ag ef. Maeetcg. Ioab I4.TFHWY.

LLINELLAU Ddarllenwyd yn Nghyfarfod Blynyddol Odyddion Pencoed, Nos Sadwrn, Mehefin 9fed, 1S94. Chwi feibion anwyl Cymru Sydd yma heldyw'n nghyd, Yn dal eich egwyddorion <i Dan belydr haul heb wryd Na fydded i chwi flino Ar garu'r naill a'r llalll, ùp" Canys cariad sydd yn gwreiddio 'Nghalon pob dyn call. Gwreichionen fach o'r cariad RhyfJddu fu erioed, A bletho am eich enaid Odyddion wyr Pencoc-d Fel byddweh pan yn disgyn I lawr i'r tywyll lyn, Gael canu am y cariad R'oedd ar Galfaria Fryn. Nid teg yw'r hin bob amser Tra yma yn y byd, Mae ton ar don o gsoesan Yn dal rhyw rai o hyd Mae colli brodyr anwyl Oedd yma dr.) yn ol Yn tystio wrthym ninau Yr awn ni ar eu hoi. Ond yvrth gael gwledd flynyddol Tra yma ar eich taith, Ya frodyr hen ac ieuainc, Gwyr un lhvyth, ac un iaith Rhowchcmt i'ch teimlad heddyw Heb ofni gwg na gwawd, Ond cofiwch am y testyn- Pob un i garu'i frawd. Llangrallo. R. JONES.

RESTORATION OF LISWORNEY CHURCH. Lisworney Church was re-opened on Wednesday in last week after restoration. The fabric which had almost fallen into ruins has been completely rebuilt at a cost of about JE 1,000. A new vestry has been added, and the interior of the church has been entirely refurnished. The building thus renovated has taken on what should prove a con- siderably long lease of new life, 3nd visitors at Wednesday's opening services must have been agreeably surprised at the wonderful transformation which bad been effected in the ancient fabric. All three of the services were well attended, and amongst those present were Mr and Mrs Carne, of Nash Manor (tho warmest supporters of the work of restoration), Miss Franklen, of Southerndown Mr F C Dunn, Llanblethian, Mr C Williams, Wolves- newton Rectory, Mr and Mrs W. Jenkins. Llan- mihangeV and Miss Jeukiua, Mr Williams, architect, Mr Clark, Miss Grimes. Mrs Edwards, Southerndown, Mrs James and Miss James, Marblro' Grange, Mr J R Thomas (churchwarden), Mr L P Marshall, Cowbridge. The clergy present were the Revs E W Vaughan, E Jeukins, Llanmihangel, F W Edmondes. D Davies. Newcastle, W Evans, Cowbridge, M Evanson, R Morris, C C Williams, Wolvesnewton, LI. Jones, Richard Lewis, Colwin- stone, T Read, S Nicholl, T Bevan, Rees William*, St Donatts, T Hughes, Llancarvan, T Edwards! Southerndown. Early communion was celebrated at half-past eight, when the Rev E Jenkins officiated. The building was crowded at the morning Rervice at half-past eleven, when the Rev F W Edmondes occupied the pulpit and preached an appropriate sermon. The Rev E Jenkins ofliciated, taking tho morning prayers, and the communion service was. taken by the rector, the Rev E W Vaughan. Thtv Gospel was read by the Rev F W Edmondes, anrf the Epistle by the Rov R C Lowis, while the Rev C C Williams and the Rev D Evans (Llatimaes) read tha lessons. The Rev Stephen Nicholl was tho preacher in the afternoon, and in the eveniuo- tho Rev C A H Green preached in the vernacular.0 A special word of praise is due to the Rev E. Jenkins, who, as hon. secretary of the Restoration Com- mittee, was largely instrumental in raising JESOO of the sum required. The contractors of the work are Messrs Hatherly and Carr, of Bristol, and the architects, Messrs Bruton and Williams, of Cardiff.

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