The Barmouth and County Advertiser and District Weekly News

SUNDAY IN BARMOUTH. (Continued) The service over, 1 wended my way through the town to the sea once more, being astonished at the absence of all that tended to the desecration of the Sabbath. No public-house open, no char-a- bancs plying for hire, no wretched touting of horns a ad whistles, and yet the crowd seemed happy. It was an object lesson on the non- deseoration of the Lord's Day, and from morning until night the same regard for the Sabbath was shown, and yet everyone seemed content. Long centuries ago Cardigan Bay (so it is believed) was a long stretch of,low lyin,-f -fi.elds, and the present position of the north of the estuary was somewhat changed, which seems to account for the name of the Parish Church Llanaber," which lies some two miles farther north; Llanaber means The Church of the Conflux." To this little church we (my host and I) wen- ded our way in the afternoon. It stands in an ideal spot, quite close to the sea but overlooking it; and to sit on the seats facing the bay of Cardigan is simply a dream. Straight in front of you is the open sea, the right arm of the bay curving round as far as Aberdaron and Bardsey Island, the left stretching beyond Aber- dovey and Aberystwyth. To the left landwards, stands the whole range of Cader, and to the right "The Rivals" are plainly to be seen, with the heights of Snow- donia farther inland. Upon entering the church we were struck by. the peculiar sea like smell of the old building, owing no doubt to the nearness of the sea, but this soon appeared to pass away. Before the ser- vice commenced, the parson walked down the church and rang the bell himself, and very soon a I good sprinkling of visitors made up a congregation. Here again 1 tbe"e was no choir, the singing being accompanied by a small harmonium, it was however a most enjoyable service, the music having that peculiar plaintive, minor tone, which is such a feature in Welsh music, and seems to blend so perfectly with. the sound of 11 the sad sea waves," which in the intervals of quiet could be heard on the beach out- side. The churchyard is very quaint, the one half being full of old slate gravestones and monuments tell- ing the tale generally of lives spent in connection with the sea; while the other half is a perfect wealth of beautiful monuments and sculptured figures to the memory of richer neighbours who have passed away at the new town of Barmouth and its vici- nity. One stone records the fact that William Hardwicke, the great Shropshire antiquary and geologist, lies buried here. He spent the closing years of his life at Barmouth, and by his own will was buried in this lonely grave- yard by the sea. Most of the old tombstone, inscriptions are in Welsh; but one in English, to the memory of a boy of ten, is worth repeating: Sweet Evan, he glanced into the world to see A sample of our misery, Then turned away his languid eye To drop a tear or two and die; iSweet Evan, be tasted of life's bitter cup, Refused to drink the potion up, But turned his little head aside, Disgusted with the taste, and died. Sweet Evan, he listened awhile to hear Our mortal griefs, then turned his ear To angels' harps and songs, and cried To join their notes celestial, sighed and died." To stay a few moments in this quaint old churchyard forcibly reminded one of the truths so well expressed in Gray's Elegy," and a more recent poet, Canon Rawnsley has written: I strolled along the purple shore That pulsed with beat, To where Llanaber's fathers o'er the tide Sleep till the tides are not-a death bell tollod- Rest for the weary-hearted ones is sweet, Dear God! to-day 'twere bitter to have died." We walked home along the firm sands of the sea, conscious that we were treading close to that ancient Causeway over which St. Patrick brought the glad news of the Gospel from the Emerald Isle long years ago, a pathway now covered by the relentless force of the ever-changing sea. In the evening, when services were all over for the day, we sat watching the sun slowly setting across the sea. It \tas a won- derful sight, and the hundreds of people slowly walking along the promenade or taking advantage of the many seats provided, seemed all to be enthralled with the sight. The rays of the sun first disappeared, and! the orb of day became a globe of molten gold, which turned at last to a blood red. Slowly but surely it sank behind the mighty shoulders of the Rivals," until one narrow beam lixe a sword blade was all that was lef t- tn the darkness and silence. But hark! a band of Welsh singers, all male voices, is heard singing, with that strange national thrill, Lead Kindly Light and turning, we saw far away over the heights of Cader Idris, the star of evening shining with a beautiful silvery light, filling us "with the thought, that though the day was gone, the morning in its turn should come I also. I.L.W.