neighbour who lost her temper with his aunt, to allude with contempt to the smallwitted, ill-looking little fellow.

He was cruelly ill-looking. Undersized for a youth of seventeen, though sturdily built, his neck almost bent under the burden of a heavy, ill-shaped head. His brow was villainously low and narrow, and the ugliness of his coarse, large, irregular features was heightened by the pockmarks which pitted his face. He was of slovenly appearance, too. He never took the least trouble to brush the discoloured piece of soft felt which passed for his hat, or the capacious moleskins into which, when flung aside by his uncle, he was inserted alive.

Like all small-witted people, David's feelings both of pain and joy were very intense. He suffered keen annoyance from the vulgar, personal chaff to which he was accustomed at the quarry, where he sharpened the men's tools and warmed their teacans. An absence of a bond of sympathy seemed to separate him from his fellows.

The only sunlight that ever gleamed on his clouded mind shone one calm evening in June when he was trudging homewards, with a heavy bag of tools on his back, and carrying one or two fallen boughs which were used as fire wood. He was passing the gate leading out of the high-road to the Rectory, when his dark eyes caught sight of a lovely being. Tripping along the path came a girl of about his own age, but taller. The white, soft material in which she was dressed reminded David of the angel's wings in the coloured illustrations of the family Bible at home. Her auburn hair flowed in a wide stream over the pink sash round her waist, and David hardly knew which was the prettier, the glow suffusing her dimpled cheeks or the merriness of her bright blue eyes.

David's heart was moved. From that day his manner changed. He gave less cause for complaint to his cousins, and he seemed more diligent at his work. The hours he spent in the company of Bob Bach, the poacher, and his companions, he now devoted to gathering bird's eggs for little Willie Blake, nephew of the Rector and brother of Her.

Will was interested in Dafydd y Mŵg,— he had mastered the pronunciation of

David's nickname, for both he and his sister had learnt Welsh from childhood. Something beneath the youth's rough exterior touched the boy, who became very intimate with him on learning that the poor fool knew much about wild birds and their eggs. One evening he set David's heart throbbing with suppressed excitement, when he induced his sister to join them in nest-hunting the hedge skirting the Rectory garden.

Willie's collection was growing rapidly through David's help. But his great ambition had not yet been realized. This was the possession of an owl's egg. Mentioning his wish in Dora's presence, she agreed with him that Dafydd was the man to help him. And Dora's kindly face smiled upon him with a sweetness which made him almost delirious.

David vowed to justify that smile. To the left of the ledge where his uncle's gang were boring at the quarry, he had noticed a large hole in the rock. Night and morning visions of an owl's nest, and of the delight of shining before Dora, filled his disordered fancy. The time for her departure to Liverpool was drawing nigh, yet he could hit upon no plan for ascertaining what was in the hole. On the eve of her departure he did a desperate deed.

That evening, in the sight of all the quarrymen as they hurried from work, Dora stopped him with a winning smile, and actually asked him if he had found "it" yet! "It," of course meant the owl's egg, and David hung his head, and blushed.

After scampering through his tea,running down the narrow streets, munching a slice of bread and butter, he returned to the quarry, where he waited about till dusk. Then, forcing the latch of the alarm-man's hut, he dragged out a coil of rope, and also a borer, a piece of steel about four feet long, with a sharpened end. It is the instrument with which quarrymen bore the rock, for the reception of powder when they burst stone.

These David carried along the path which ran parallel to the edge of the quarry till, in the pale light of the moon which streamed its silvery rays upon the rock, he caught sight of the ledge. Then he espied the tuft of grass which edged the

hole. Immediately above this he rammed the steelborer into the earth to a depth of about six inches, to which he had tied one end of the rope. With the other end he wound himself tightly under the arm-pits, and, keeping the remainder of the rope in his hands, he dropped on one knee, and prepared to descend to the ledge.

The borer quivered as the rope tightened over the edge of the quarry. David's heart, too, fluttered with apprehension, as he hung on to the rope. The work of lowering himself down the rock was not so easy as he had imagined. Slowly, however, he neared the hole till the plated heels of his thick boots clattered against the stone. The noise startled a bird out of the grass. As it circled against the sky, his fancy traced a resemblance in its eyes and beak to the form of an owl. Stretching out his arms, he grasped a projecting piece of stone near the hole, and, thrusting his left hand inside, he felt three warm eggs, which he immediately pulled out.

But how could he carry them off? His right arm supported his hold on the rope, which he must climb with both hands.

The excitement with which he had toiled to the fulfillment of his day-dream was beginning to tell upon him, and this difficulty was disheartening.

Then came a happy thought. He would

replace two of the eggs,-Dora once remarked she could never rob a bird of more than one, and his mouth was large enough to hold the other. Suiting the action to the word, he roused himself to his task.

He

He felt very tired, and a strange feeling of sadness crept into his heart. But constant manual work from early boyhood had hardened his arms, their strength was the only thing upon which he ever prided himself. Stiffening his body, he began to climb. He had not pulled himself more than thrice before he became alarmed. felt himself slipping and slipping, and the rope becoming slacker and slacker. Suddenly the support at the other end of the rope gave way, and the borer came rattling over the surface of the rock. David clutched wildly in front of him, but the rope seemed to twist him round and round.

He fell a depth of fifty feet; and when the dawn grew gray, his body was found huddled and disfigured beside a boulder.

By the irony of fate neither Dora nor Willie heard of the accident before they left by the first train. But when their next summer holidays came round, they paid more than one visit to the pretty headstone their uncle raised over the remains of Dafydd y Mŵg.

ARTEMUS JONES.

Two pretty little books of poetry were sent me for review. One is Gomer, an epic poem," by J. Craven Thomas. It is a melodious little fragmentary epic, describing the coming of Gomer, B.C. 2360, to the river Taff ad Pontypridd Common. It is excellently printed by W. Lewis, Duke Street, Cardiff.

The other volume is "The Royal Pearl and other poems," by Clifford King (Rhyd y Godor). It is printed on hand-made paper, and bound in blue cloth, by Jakeman and Carver, Hereford. From its varied contents I copy the following epigram,

"Man soundly in a slumber lay

When he at first a wife did take, But he who'd catch an Eve to-day Must needs be very wide awake."

NOTES.

Little bits of history, throwing light upon the life of our old Welsh families, are always very welcome. In this number J. Powel, of Ludlow, gives an anecdote about two families, now extinct in the male line, from one of which he is descended.

men

An opportunity of doing good is given to Welshat the present day that is not often the privilege of any one age to have. They have the privilege of building colleges and intermediate schools, and the account of the efforts made, especially by those to whom the effort is a very real sacrifice, will be one of the most glorious pages in the annals of Wales.

The buildings of the University College of Wales at Aberystwyth will probably be the first to be completed and paid for. Great efforts have been made, especially by the poorer classes in Mid Wales, and in the face of at least one great misfortune, to erect a pile of buildings worthy of one of the constituent colleges of the University of

neighbour who lost her temper with his aunt, to allude with contempt to the smallwitted, ill-looking little fellow.

He was cruelly ill-looking. Undersized for a youth of seventeen, though sturdily built, his neck almost bent under the burden of a heavy, ill-shaped head. His brow was villainously low and narrow, and the ugliness of his coarse, large, irregular features was heightened by the pockmarks which pitted his face. He was of slovenly appearance, too. He never took the least trouble to brush the discoloured piece of soft felt which passed for his hat, or the capacious moleskins into which, when flung aside by his uncle, he was inserted alive.

Like all small-witted people, David's feelings both of pain and joy were very intense. He suffered keen annoyance from the vulgar, personal chaff to which he was accustomed at the quarry, where he sharpened the men's tools and warmed their teacans. An absence of a bond of sympathy seemed to separate him from his fellows.

The only sunlight that ever gleamed on his clouded mind shone one calm evening in June when he was trudging homewards, with a heavy bag of tools on his back, and carrying one or two fallen boughs which were used as fire wood. He was passing the gate leading out of the high-road to the Rectory, when his dark eyes caught sight of a lovely being. Tripping along the path came a girl of about his own age, but taller. The white, soft material in which she was dressed reminded David of the angel's wings in the coloured illustrations of the family Bible at home. Her auburn hair flowed in a wide stream over the pink sash round her waist, and David hardly knew which was the prettier, the glow suffusing her dimpled cheeks or the merriness of her bright blue eyes.

David's heart was moved. From that day his manner changed. He gave less cause for complaint to his cousins, and he seemed more diligent at his work. The hours he spent in the company of Bob Bach, the poacher, and his companions, he now devoted to gathering bird's eggs for little Willie Blake, nephew of the Rector and brother of Her.

Will was interested in Dafydd y Mŵg, he had mastered the pronunciation of

David's nickname, for both he and his sister had learnt Welsh from childhood. Something beneath the youth's rough exterior touched the boy, who became very intimate with him on learning that the poor fool knew much about wild birds and their eggs. One evening he set David's heart throbbing with suppressed excitement, when he induced his sister to join them in nest-hunting the hedge skirting the Rectory garden.

Willie's collection was growing rapidly through David's help. But his great ambition had not yet been realized. This was the possession of an owl's egg. Mentioning his wish in Dora's presence, she agreed with him that Dafydd was the man to help him. And Dora's kindly face smiled upon him with a sweetness which made him almost delirious.

David vowed to justify that smile. To the left of the ledge where his uncle's gang were boring at the quarry, he had noticed a large hole in the rock. Night and morning visions of an owl's nest, and of the delight of shining before Dora, filled his disordered fancy. The time for her departure to Liverpool was drawing nigh, yet he could hit upon no plan for ascertaining what was in the hole. On the eve of her departure he did a desperate deed.

That evening, in the sight of all the quarrymen as they hurried from work, Dora stopped him with a winning smile, and actually asked him if he had found "it" yet! "It," of course meant the owl's egg, and David hung his head, and blushed.

After scampering through his tea,running down the narrow streets, munching a slice of bread and butter,-he returned to the quarry, where he waited about till dusk. Then, forcing the latch of the alarm-man's hut, he dragged out a coil of rope, and also a borer, a piece of steel about four feet long, with a sharpened end. It is the instrument with which quarrymen bore the rock, for the reception of powder when they burst stone.

These David carried along the path which ran parallel to the edge of the quarry till, in the pale light of the moon which streamed its silvery rays upon the rock, he caught sight of the ledge. Then he espied the tuft of grass which edged the

hole. Immediately above this he rammed the steelborer into the earth to a depth of about six inches, to which he had tied one end of the rope. With the other end he wound himself tightly under the arm-pits, and, keeping the remainder of the rope in his hands, he dropped on one knee, and prepared to descend to the ledge.

The borer quivered as the rope tightened over the edge of the quarry. David's heart, too, fluttered with apprehension, as he hung on to the rope. The work of lowering himself down the rock was not so easy as he had imagined. Slowly, however, he neared the hole till the plated heels of his thick boots clattered against the stone. The noise startled a bird out of the grass. As it circled against the sky, his fancy traced a resemblance in its eyes and beak to the form of an owl. Stretching out his arms, he grasped a projecting piece of stone near the hole, and, thrusting his left hand inside, he felt three warm eggs, which he immediately pulled out.

But how could he carry them off? His right arm supported his hold on the rope, which he must climb with both hands.

The excitement with which he had toiled to the fulfillment of his day-dream was beginning to tell upon him, and this difficulty was disheartening.

Two pretty little books of poetry were sent me for review. One is "Gomer, an epic poem," by J. Craven Thomas. It is a melodious little fragmentary epic, describing the coming of Gomer, B.C. 2360, to the river Taff ad Pontypridd Common. It is excellently printed by W. Lewis, Duke Street, Cardiff.

The other volume is "The Royal Pearl and other poems," by Clifford King (Rhyd y Godor). It is printed on hand-made paper, and bound in blue cloth, by Jakeman and Carver, Hereford. From its varied contents I copy the following epigram,

"Man soundly in a slumber lay

When he at first a wife did take, But he who'd catch an Eve to-day Must needs be very wide awake."

replace two of the eggs,-Dora once remarked she could never rob a bird of more than one, and his mouth was large enough to hold the other. Suiting the action to the word, he roused himself to his task.

He felt very tired, and a strange feeling of sadness crept into his heart. But constant manual work from early boyhood had hardened his arms, their strength was the only thing upon which he ever prided himself. Stiffening his body, he began to climb. climb. He had not pulled himself more than thrice before he became alarmed. He felt himself slipping and slipping, and the rope becoming slacker and slacker. Suddenly the support at the other end of the rope gave way, and the borer came rattling over the surface of the rock. David clutched wildly in front of him, but the rope seemed to twist him round and round.

He fell a depth of fifty feet; and when the dawn grew gray, his body was found huddled and disfigured beside a boulder.

By the irony of fate neither Dora nor Willie heard of the accident before they left by the first train. But when their next summer holidays came round, they paid more than one visit to the pretty headstone their uncle raised over the remains of Dafydd y Mŵg.

NOTES.

ARTEMUS JONES.

Little bits of history, throwing light upon the life of our old Welsh families, are always very welcome. In this number J. Powel, of Ludlow, gives an anecdote about two families, now extinct in the male line, from one of which he is descended.

men

An opportunity of doing good is given to Welshat the present day that is not often the privilege of any one age to have. They have the privilege of building colleges and intermediate schools, and the account of the efforts made, especially by those to whom the effort is a very real sacrifice, will be one of the most glorious pages in the annals of Wales.

The buildings of the University College of Wales at Aberystwyth will probably be the first to be completed and paid for. Great efforts have been made, especially by the poorer classes in Mid Wales, and in the face of at least one great misfortune, to erect a pile of buildings worthy of one of the constituent colleges of the University of

Wales. The special grant of £10,000 from the Treasury ought to make us redouble our efforts, in order to have a college in Mid Wales that is able to fulfil its all-important work.

The burden is heavy, it is true. One college will soon have been paid for, but we have at least two others to build. We have the pressing necessity of building intermediate schools, with technical sides. And very soon we should begin to build museums, like the museums we find in almost every town of any note on the Continent.

After reading the article "Ploughed in Smalls," many have set themselves to thinking who was ploughed, and I find that some have come to the conclusion that the man described is one of our best young men." I may say that the man who was ploughed is the man who wrote the article, and that he is describing no one but himself.

A deputation waited upon the Welsh members of Parliament, in one of the committee rooms of the House of Commons, to ask them to exercise their influence in getting Government to appoint a commissioner to catalogue Welsh manuscripts. The members sat in a semi-circle, and we sat in a line forming the diameter. The deputation was introduced by Principal Viriamu Jones. We stood up and made speeches, and it was a curious and a novel experience to have the opportunity of hurling our grievances at the heads of men,-including three out of the four "irrepressibles," who are so often describing grievances themselves. A capital letter from the pen of Professor Rhys was read, full of the characteristic mixture of learning and humour which we associate with this popular professor's name. Then Professor Powell and Mr. Gwenogfryn Evans made speeches, showing that private efforts would be inadequate, and showing very conclusively that a commissioner or assistant commissioner alone could catalogue our manuscripts, a work which, above all others, would help the student of Welsh history and literature. Mr. Gwenogfryn Evans, the highest living authority on Welsh manuscripts, spoke at first from notes. I secured those notes, and I present them to the reader in this number.

When Sir John Hibbert,-the financial secretary to the Treasury,-and the Deputy Master of the Rolls came in, we found that our members of Parliament were all heartily at one with us. Sir George Osborne Morgan spoke very effectively, and Professor Powell and Mr. Gwenogfryn Evans showed most conclusively that the way in which some of the Welsh collections had been catalogued was worse than useless. Mr. Evans, especially, spoke excellently, being naturally a fluent speaker, and speaking from very full knowledge.

The Deputy Master of the Rolls said that the work could not be done by the Record Office staff, and he agreed with us that a special commissioner should be appointed for four or five years. Sir John Hibbert, who was very sympathetic, carried away with him Professor Rhys' letter, and a memorial we had drawn up, which was read on

our behalf by Mr. Brynmor Jones, Q.C., M.P. I secured a copy of the statement, and it is as follows,

"Her Majesty in the year 1869 appointed a commission to report on mauuscripts and papers of general public interest, a knowledge of which would be of great utility in the illustration of history, constitutional law, science, and general literature.' As regards Welsh MSS. this commission has been, for all practical purposes, nugatory and fruitless. It is true that the numbers and sizes of certain MSS. in the Welsh language have been given, but their contents have not been catalogued for the obvious reason that the gentlemen appointed to report on them did not understand the language in which they are written, As an instance of how we think Welsh MSS. should be catalogued, we would mention Brogyntyn MS. 10 (see second report, page 84), the contents of which, being in English, are fully described, while the MSS. numbered respectively 1 to 9, and 12 (though favourable examples of the way Welsh MSS. have been dealt with), are most inefficiently and inadequately described. Such entries are absolutely worthless for purposes of research, and every student must examine each MS. for himself before he can obtain any notion of the subject matter of the contents. This is irksome to the owner and unfair to the student. The owner is constantly besought to show or lend MSS., which, were their contents properly catalogued, would be left undisturbed on their shelves, and the student is compelled to waste his time and substance in a fruitless search. The fact that the vast majority of Welsh MSS. are in private libraries, which are remote from one another and from our great public libraries, makes it specially difficult to consult them, and therefore it is all the more necessary that their contents should be fully and carefully catalogued by a competent Welsh scholar. If we take a collection like that of Peniarth, we find that less than one-fourth of the MSS. deposited there have been referred to in the report, and that among the three-fourths not mentioned are some of the choicest treasures in the Welsh language, including historical material of importance. Even the catalogue drawn up by the late owner is confessedly imperfect, and wholly inadequate for any serious work. There are also many minor collections in different parts of Wales which have not been noticed by the MSS. Commission, and there is strong presumptive evidence of the existence of several others. We, therefore, suggest the appointment (temporarily) of a competent commissioner or assistant commissioner, whose duties shall be to discover, as well as to catalogue in an efficient manner, all MSS. in the Welsh language. The number of those which do not literally fall within the scope of the MSS. Commission is so small that it would not be worth while to make the catalogue incomplete by omitting them. Indeed the whole number of Welsh MSS. is so limited, in comparison with those in English, that to enforce absolute uniformity in dealing with them would be pedantic and unpractical, though we may be permitted to point out that even theological tracts have been included in the Rolls publications. Those most familiar with mediaval Welsh poetry characterize much of it as historical rather than poetical. The eulogies and the elegies to the chief actors of the middle ages are frequently the chief authority for the leading facts of their lives. We further respectfully submit that a Welsh scholar, specially commissioned by the Treasury, who should be empowered to take the initiative and to communicate directly with the owners of MSS., would have greater facilities afforded him than a delegate of the Record Office. Moreover, we believe that personal responsibility would secure a speedier and more permanent result. Greater importance also would be attached to the appointment, so that it would get better known in the country generally, which might greatly help to bring to light isolated and valuable MSS. in existence, but which cannot be traced to their present hiding place. It is eminently desirable that the work of cataloguing should be carried on continuously till it is completed, that the report should be convenient in size and issued by itself, with a complete and reliable index. It is confidently anticipated that a competent scholar familiar with Welsh MSS. could complete the catalogue in from three to five years, so that the expense would be trivial. The catalogue is urgently wanted, as several scholars have works of importance dealing with the history, laws, and literature of Wales, which they are unable to complete on account of the present impossibility of finding out the sources of information and the material available for their purpose. We would further point out that much public money has been spent on facsimiles of English, Irish, and especially Scotch MSS., while we cannot discover a single instance of a Welsh MS. being so treated. It would indeed be a boon to scholars if a number of facsimiles, illustrative of Welsh writing, were issued uniform with the report, but we do not press this matter."

In this number the first batch of questions for the " Queries and Answers" pages are given. Many Welsh and English scholars have promised to make these pages valuable and interesting.