along this ditch, and striking it with a hammer, each step as it moves, at last separates this upper half of the block into two parts. The same process is repeated with each of these halves. The other half of the original block is trimmed in exactly the same manner. Each of these eight pillars is again split into two of equal thickness, then each of these again is similarly treated, until ultimately each of the eight pillars of 4 feet 4 inches long, by 14 inches wide, has been split into twelve separate pieces, each being three quarters of an inch thick. The work of these two men with our original block is now finished. They therefore place these pillars on a waggon, and send them on to the shed in which the other partner and the journeyman work; that is, the two that work yn y lan.

1

384

We now consider the work of these men. They begin by turning one of these pillars with one side up, then in the middle and across that side they cut a A-shaped slit; they then turn this side down, and, with a huge wooden mallet of about 20lbs. weight, strike on the other side, now turned up, exactly opposite the slit. The pillar then cuts transversely. Each of these pieces is now part of the original block, and when this process has been applied to each of the other pillars we shall ultimately have 384 blocks, each measuring 26 inches long, 14 inches wide, three quarters of an inch thick. Now the partner, by means of a small wooden mallet and a thin Ashaped chisel, the broad end being the sharpened end, splits each of these blocks again into eight separate sheets. These he places in a heap on his right-hand side, and his work is done. Then comes the journeyman's part. He sits on what is called a travel, i.e., a wooden bench of about 5 feet in length, in which, at about equal distances from each end, is fixed a thin iron bar, about 3 feet long and one foot high, the blade being about three inches wide. The journeyman takes up one of the above thin sheets in his left hand, puts one end of it to rest on the travel, and the other on his left knee, and then proceeds to "dress" it; that is, with an iron knife with steel-sharpened edge, about 18 inches long and 2 inches wide, 24

having a slight bend in the handle to protect the workman's thumb, he cuts one end and a side at right angles to each other. Then, with a suitable measuring rod, he measures off a length of 24 inches and a width of 12 inches, and then cuts, guided by these marks, parallel to the previous cut sides. We have now a square slate ready for the market.

I may here remark that, instead of this travel, hand-knife, and measuring rod, machines worked by traddle and spring have been invented, which are now fast ousting the above time-honoured mode of working; and it is possible that, in a near future, quarrymen will have but a vague idea of how their forefathers used to work.

Now, out of our original block of 60% cubic feet, we have succeeded in getting 3,072 slates, each 24 inches long by 12 inches wide. For each hundred of slates of this size the quarrymen is, at present, paid 2s. 10d. It is, however, necessary to understand how he counts his hundred, which is neither 100 nor 112. He counts his slates by threes, each three being collectively called a murw; and of these threes there are 42, and two unit slates in addition, in every hundred. A hundred then for the workmen means 128. Consequently out of the original block the quarryman gets 3,072 128 hundreds; or, in terms of money, he has earned 24 × 2 = 68s. This, however, does not represent the total wages of the crew for working this block. What is actually paid by the employer varies according to the terms of the contract under which the crew is working. Let us suppose that our crew works at a poundage of £2; that is, that for every 20 shillings' worth of slates he produces. the workman is to receive £3. Ön these terms the actual earnings of our crew would amount to £10 4s.

= 24

It may not be uninteresting to those who know nothing about quarrying to be told also that the quarryman has a name for each size of slates. Very large blocks of a certain quality, and exceeding a certain length and breadth, are sent down to the quarry mills, where they are sawn, polished, and trimmed into grave stones, cistern stones, &c. I quote the following

passage from Hugh Derfel Hughes' Antiquities of Llanllechid and Llandegai" (page 124),—

"About the beginning of this century, a slate merchant, of the name of Mr. Docer, going through the quarry with Lord Penrhyn, advised him that all the slates should be made of such and such a size, and this is the origin of the name Docers. By this time the skill of the quarryman and of the slater found some new plan continually. One wanted to do this, and another that, and his Lordship failed to please everybody. His Lady, however, seeing him in this plight, and in continual trouble, advised him to call the slates after the names of the degrees of the aristocracy. He took up the suggestion, and called the 24 X 12 slate a Duchess, the 20 × 10 a Countess, and the 16 × 8 a Lady."

By our time, however, we have a great variety of these rock aristocrats; for we have Queens; big, small, and narrow Duchesses; big, small, and narrow Countesses and Ladies, &c.

in

Before dismissing the question of the quarryman and his work, one other species of workmen deserves honourable mention. He is the rybelwr, and may be most appropriately described as a sort of respectable beggar. And every quarryman, the restricted sense of the term, must pass through this stage of existence; it is the first stage of apprenticeship. When a boy has had his name entered on the quarry register, he fixes upon a certain gallery in which to work, his decision being usually guided by the fact that in that gallery either his father, brother, uncle, or some person likely to help and teach him, works. Let us follow him, a boy of thirteen, as he struts along the gallery, his brand new hammer in one hand, his brand new chisel in the other. He looks about him, and sees a quarryman failing to lift up a stone; he runs up to him, and very obsequiously offers to help him. For his good services he may receive a small block of stone, the benefactor very patronisingly showing him how to trim it. finishing his work on this block, he strolls on leisurely and hopefully, and perhaps comes across a crew having more blocks about than they can want, and here he manages to pluck up enough courage to ask point blank whether they cannot spare him a block or two. In this way he at In this way he at

After

last begs enough to convey to his workshed, where he is again taught by some kind friend how to split and dress them. Some are doomed for their lives to follow this mode of living on alms, sometimes making very good wages, sometimes faring very badly; the greater number, however, succeed in working themselves out of this humble position, and in becoming partners in crews. The gradus honorum are rybelwr, journeyman, bargain-man.

It is difficult to find any working man who has more leisure time than the quarryman of Carnarvonshire. At Bethesda, the hours are from 6-30 a.m. till 5-30 p.m., and on Saturdays from 6-30 a.m. to 11-30 a.m.; but in winter, the days are much shorter. shorter. He spends his leisure hours on the whole to good profit. One can probably find no hour spent in a greater variety of ways than the quarryman's dinner hour from 11-30 to 12-30. You may, here and there, find a number lounging lazily, smoking, thinking about nothing, or engaged in a conversation which could not in any way redound to their credit either intellectually or morally. But these are exceptions. Oftener you may find half-a-dozen, more or less, eagerly engaged in singing, preparing for some musical contest at an Eisteddfod, or from mere fondness for music. But let us enter one of the cabins in which the men eat. Dinner being over, a man says he has the Genedl, and passes it on to Mr. So and So, who is par excellence the reader in that cabin. Another day Yr Herald, Y Faner, or Y Celt may be the paper; and in some huts, the reader happens to be conversant enough with English to read off an English article into fairly good Welsh. In the course of his reading, he is often interrupted, for someone has a question to ask, and this question gives rise to a spirited discussion. Sometimes several men have a book each; at other times a fit of drowsiness overcomes them all, and we have a truly musical snoring chorus sung to the accompaniment of a few rats in search for

crumbs of bread. I remember well how greedily the inhabitants of some of these cabins used to look forward for Y Drysorfa, month after month, when Rhys Lewis was appearing in it, and for Y Cymro, where

Enoc Huws was found. Another day, some one quotes a verse from the Bible, and asks the others to explain it to him. Oftener, however, than these strictly biblical questions is introduced some industrial, social, educational, political, or theological matter. A brisk discussion often follows, evincing sometimes the most happy ignorance of the real difficulties of the case, but far oftener manifesting a thorough appreciation of the subject in all its bearings. A deal of bickering there, doubtless, is sometimes, if not of animosity too, especially when discussing political matters, but this frequent reading, discussing, and questioning naturally sharpen the mind, and make the quarryman on the whole an intelligent, keen-witted man. Here truly, as "iron "iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend."

But how does the quarryman spend his time when he is out of the quarry? He does not take much interest in the mountains whose tops reach the clouds, he does not care to acquaint himself with their wonders, to gaze at their beauty, picturesqueness, or sublimity, or to examine their contents from a botanical, geological, or any other point of view;that is one thing he does not do. There are hundreds who have lived a long life at the foot of Carnedd Llywelyn, but who have never climbed to its summit, and who have never seen the sun rise in all its splendour and majesty from it. It appears as if working at the very heart of one mountain breeds in them a kind of indifference, if not contempt, for all the other mountains. This may partly account for the fact that, though living amidst the most varied scenery, with its soft gentle beauty or its awe-inspiring sublimity, the qualities most wanting in the quarryman's character are those which should be inspired by constant communion with such a nature. All this, however, may be due, not to any want of respect for nature as such, but to lack of training and education.

The quarrymen believe in education, and the feeling of hundreds of them was well expressed by one of them who told me once," If I was not sent to school myself, and know not the value of education, I

know well the disadvantages of being ignorant, and will therefore give my children, and help the children of others to get, as much education as possible." The present educational system at Bethesda is not what it should be, and will not, in my opinion, stand comparison with that of Festiniog. I shall not inquire into the reasons; suffice it to say that there is no School Board; National and British Schools, together with their necessary drawbacks, have hitherto been the basis of the educational system. It is, however, worthy of notice that in 1884, the quarrymen undertook to contribute £1000 towards the University College of North Wales at Bangor, and that before the present year has run its course, an Intermediate School will have been established at Bethesda.

The fondness

During their leisure hours, the quarrymen find plenty to do. Some have actually realised the Chamberlain idea,-three acres and a cow; and the great majority of the workmen have gardens attached to their houses. And I may venture to assert that it is not often one meets with gardens so neatly and carefully done,-with their rows of gooseberry trees, the currant trees along the garden walls, an apple tree here and there, the short rows of beans and peas, and the beds of lettuces, radishes, onions, and cress; and the cabbage, cauliflowers, and turnips in their seasons. of the people for small flower-gardens in front of their houses, where such a thing is possible, is another noteworthy feature. Some devote much time to the cultivation of flowers, and spend much labour on their neat arrangement; but it must be confessed that, owing to lack of training and to ignorance as to the proper arrangements of colours, the result is often a medley rather than a truly artistic blending of colours, yielding to the mind that agreeable feeling which is always produced by true beauty. The evenings are spent by too great a number of young people in walking about listlessly, knowing neither the whither nor the why of their goings; but, generally speaking, the evenings are spent in choral practices, playing instruments, reading newspapers, periodicals chiefly of the theological type, commentaries and the

Bible, in church meetings and prayer meetings.

On the whole, then, the quarryman is a man of a kind of rough independence of mind, somewhat daring in language, and fiery in temper. He is by no means bilingual, if by that term is meant ability to converse freely in English and Welsh, or to appreciate proceedings at a court of law. Notwithstanding, it is seldom that the English visitor fails to get answers to his questions, provided he condescends to lay aside all John Bullyism. I happened once to be travelling in the company of an Englishman who made the all-wise remark that Festiniog was the most uncivilised place he had yet visited; for, he said, not one out of twelve could tell him "where he could be provided with the most suitable accommodation and the best victuals." All English people, we suppose, do not venture upon making knowledge of such English to be the standard of civilization. The quarryman has, by our time, lost, to a great extent, the old feeling of servility

which once characterised him, and feels, even in the presence of a thorough-bred English tourist, that he has a right to breathe and live, to laugh and be merry. His outward appearance, however, and his address and plain talk, should not be made the criterion by which to judge his real character-his inner man. He is honest and economical, kind, sympathetic, and generous, and he always respects those to whom respect is due. Their wonderful behaviour at their mass meetings during the strike of 1874 proves that the true spirit of Christianity works within them; while their beautiful chapels and churches, their neat clothing, their general cleanliness, their daily conversation,-in spite of lamentable exceptions,-and the number of excellent pastors working amongst them, prove that, in their opinion, religion has a claim to everything that is best and

ALONG the verdant leafy way,

Beyond the tumult of the town, We reach at length a temple grey, Whose peaceful spires look down Upon the world that round them lies, Upon God's acre sleeping there, Upon the waters as they flow

Among the meadows fair.

Peace broods about the ancient faneThe holy calm of centuries

That takes no count of years nor marks Time as it onward flies.

Go, scan the spreading, bustling town,

The port whence countless vessels go O'er all the seas, the Queen's highway Of commerce to and fro.

Then turn from that tumultuous scene,
The blare and business of the mart,
And muse beneath these hallowed walls
From the vain world apart.

For what avail the roystering crowd,
And all the ferment of the town?

Cardiff.

Here nigh a score of centuries

From these grey spires look down.

For when our isle was young, when scarce
The Druid sway was past and o'er,
Came saints from far beyond the seas,
Bearing to Britain's shore

The message of the Holy One.

'Twas here they paused, 'twas here they reared The temple of their simple faith

To Him they loved and feared

Long ages since. Then reverent walk

Among these stones, beneath these shades;

The very dust is hallowéd-
No sordid air pervades

These precincts. O for more such faith,
More restful quiet, that we may
Draw nearer to the mystic world
To be revealed some day-

The world the saints of Llandaff knew
And kept untarnished in their sight,
That shall endure when things of earth
Have vanished into night.

ARTHUR MEE.

DID not fairly represent the average Aberystwyth man, my prejudices were stronger and my ignorance more dense. I believed that all the beauty and all the glory of God's creation were to be seen in North Wales, and there only. I believed that a Tory was a manifestation of the evil one, and that a Radical was a personified virtue walking among men. If I had any belief stronger than the foregoing, it was this, that Calvinistic Method

was the salt of the earth, and that Calvinistic Methodists were the only people who were known to be on the right path to heaven. I am now going to relate how I fell among men of strange opinions, and how I got on with them.

We had to pass an examination on entering, and I was informed that multitudes had been rejected. One of the examiners, -I was told afterwards he was Professor MacCallum, came to me, and told me what I was likely to do in future. His words were partly a command and partly a prophecy; they came to pass to the very letter. Professor MacCallum is far away from Aberystwyth now, but a

generation of men in Wales have reason to bless the day when he came to our first University College.

Once with the examination off my mind, I was free to ramble through the town. It was a lovely September day; and, forgetting for the moment that I was out of North Wales, I thought I had never seen. anything so glorious as the Terrace. After that I have had experience, during a busy life, of many University towns, in our islands and in France and Germany and Italy; and it is my opinion now that, for the salubrity of its climate, for the variety of the walks around it, and for its distance from what is generally known as town life, Aberystwyth excels them all as the seat of a University College. I confessed my admiration, in an unguarded moment, to a student from Rhandir Mwyn, with whom I had had a rather exciting conversation about the respective merits of North and South Wales. "Not only has Providence blessed South Wales with finer towns, it has given it a more perfect language, and more beautiful women." In spite of the examination, I had already