19th Ebrill 1902

"BEBEEM AND HER DAUGHTERS." A STORY OF THE WELSH RIOTS OF 'FORTY-THREE. 41- SPECIALLY WRITTEN FOR THE "WEEKLY MAIL" BY "CARL MORGANWG." CHAPTER ill. CTJTTLEPOET WAX ENS UP. The borough of Cuttleport (which, for Reasons that will be obvious as this narrative proceeds, ■ though in reality, is recorded as a fiction) was a Welsh town of commercial, Maritime, and agricultural note, and Nobody thought half so much of it as it thought of itself. Its municipal matters were ^sulated by a corporate body that was a'ways propounding new theories of economy azld never carrying them into practical effect, Vfhile its maritime interests were vested in a Geore or so of commissioners, who as a body Maimed to be public, while the direction they Bare to the development of the interests under 'heir control partook of a strictly private nature. Cuttleport had its pa-rish pump that V48 always out of repair, its prison that was over-grown, its workhouse that was over-fed, its harbour that was everlastingly over- tuning the constable, and its officials, who, the town-clerk to the town-crier, laboured under a chronic sense of being under- paid and ivero always acting accordingly. Of course, there were Cuttleport philanthropists, with latge and loying hearta, who made the Bcience jietraining to the reduction of taxation their exclusive study, and, with a sentiment self-abnegation that were perfectly aub- *lnie, wheedled ratepayers into the comfort- belief that their sole aim in life was to lie down and die for the public weal. Cuttleport, ■however, as a set-off to this, had its doubting features, who, with knowing emphasis, touched the tipe of their noses with their forefingers and suggested all my eye in reference to those self-same philanthropists, who blazed away on n?6*1" economical hobbies till they burnt Jaemselves out, when other philanthropists of "e same sort rose like the phoenix from their ^8hea and kicked the dust that was left of their predecessors into the eyes of their Admirers in the same sort of way and with Precisely the same result. Of these formers, and of such as these, the "Cuttle- IIort Pioneer" (Liberal and Buff) often wrote: fe Ifeit-whose only object is to raise their plowman from the social degradation into ^hich an arrogant few have plunged him. *en—who disdain to fawn with sycophantic mirk upon a leprous aristocracy. Men—who scorn to play the flunkey to deluded pro- footers of hollow shams and threadbare fal- acies. Men—who, despising the machinations J Tory grandees and social and political Ostructives, are ready to martyr themselves ^i^rshalling ^he downtrodden, patient, long- sons of toil—on—on—on—to social rj1"' Political regeneration. Ah! more of such as these we want. They are the salt 8.nd savour of the earth. God blew 'em!" And with whom the "Cuttleport Pilot" and Blue) mildly reasoned: — Thirsty blood-suckers, whose vulgar tastes ?ad them to wallow in all that is demora- »,?*»• Insidious vampires, who sap and "adermine all that is politically pure and ah^aIly g'00^- Moral centipedes, who creep th ant* see^ to poison with the venom of 6lr. own loathsome policy the noble and nstitutional structure which, thank good- rears its majestic front in spite of their and sordid: ways. Bah! Away with eIl1!" t^1^s ^Wness of language and Wh • 1^™mniation Cuttleport remained ere it was. and never got one inch from it '"here benevolent Nature had placed 1>oi4 +i/acfc' ^a*nre had done more for Cuttle- than ever Cuttleport did for itself; and, .e' a camel, it knelt down meekly to te ,lve the burden of taxation that was ever 10ok^j*'0 be piled upon its shoulders, it was town tv,npon as a striving, thriving little o' ni tL bore its burdens bravely, and slept |nts notwithstanding. Btorv was alive on the day this in the year of grace one thousand day ~^ndted and forty-three. It was Satnr- toarlr8^ marliet made it so. Cuttleport The a .Was an institution to be admired. «nsQ ^Qltural surroundings of the town faces f Weekly influx of fresh and rosy t„ Bail 01 the country, whose owners came fcOod J an< an outgrowth, once a week, of girls—caterers for town house-1 of thee1'110 W€nt forth t0 ^ny. An(* many burgher 8anie girls—daughters of substantial •treets 8 ,of Cuttleport—moved along the Princesses ic' Proud, and imperious as •carriers their attendant market- costume of nf* *n the Pictures<lne Welsh ^terestine •+ Period. And pleasant and too, to see those Welsh I *<j statttea along:, hare-footed, erect tTnyfa with baskets running over with CajT.joI™ OW'their heads—some of them (the course, not the baskets, nor the either) the very perfection of *i~r1C beauty, robust health, and artistic Heaps upon heaps of poultry, of and of new-laid eggs thus changed fcuda in Cuttleport on a Saturday, and there much excitement in the dealing, inside market and out, on this particular day, sun looking cheerily down all the while, in k^00**1 he enjoyed the fun as much as k,y™dy, giving an exhilarating Rest to the °ole Proceedings. and1« Was not alone the interesting faces tri llg-Qreø which passed to and fro, like a ?e' each -side of High-street—the that411 ^ay Cuttleport—nor the bargains *hat Were made in butter, poultry, and eggs. Parti CailMed unusual excitement on this year CTr^-r day of all days in the Cuttleport Jrien'- ,ere 'was something else that stirred Wvrmj1^!11^3 and' loosened women's tongues inevitoi,! 6 weekJy "nips at the bar" or the Penn' Hi? Welsh womanly institution of "a Jh .rL beer" at the great ale stores "^oiri corner. In the market the cockle- rom country were airing their ^r-tocngne with the laver-bread folk from the same locality, and, as one of the most ancient of the lot assisted a market-carrier to lift the basket of purchases to her head, she added, in English: "It's true enough. Iss, indeed to goodness, mum. I did hear it from Dafydd ap Shon, you see, that carries the post, who did get it from the police. Iss, indeed! A 'apenny a measure, sir. Taste 'em you." The former part of this to a young girl, of lady-like appearance, who had been pur- chasing cockles of her, and the latter part to an enterprising small boy, who evinced his appreciation of the goods by investing in "a 'a'p'orth, and giv' us a couple over'ead." Mrs. Midge, the butter woman, had also "heard something about it," and asked Mrs. Philps, the buxom poultry vendor at the next stall, whether it was "really true." She of the poultry gave assurances of the truthful- ness of what had been asserted, and enlarged a little on her own especial account, gar- nished with additions from the Welsh market carrier, in a costume of the period, who came up at that moment, accompanied by a young girl of lady-like appearance, who, it appeared, was making the weekly purchases for the family, and who seemed rather proud of it. She was a slender, graceful-looking girl, of about the middle height, with pale, pensive face, big bright, hazel eyes, superb eyebrows, long eyelashes, and a glorious cascade of shining chestnut hair, that rolled down in ringlets over her shoulders, the summit of the cascade being surmounted by a sort of cockle-shell. trimmed with black lace, that looked for all the world like an inverted cheese-plate made of straw, but was very coquettish, and seductively attractive not- withstanding. She was simply and prettily dressed in a frock of blue merino and black lace shawl, with a tuft of odorous lilies fastened to her brooch in front. This was Miss Emily Scrooby, one of the six daughters of Christopher Scrooby, Esq., of Larklands, retired grocer, better known ae Chris-y-Siloh, of which connexion he had been for years a worthy pillar and a devoted adherent. "Roasted him alive?" ejaculated the inte- resting young lady, interrogatively. "Yes, indeed, miss. Locked 'im in the toll- house; tuk the gates orf its 'inges, chopped it up, covered the house with it, set fire to it, and frizzled the old man to death." This from the butter-woman. "Poor old Daff!" sympathised the poultry- vendor. "I ve paid 'im toll for more'n forty years, on and off. They all ought to be hung, that they did.-Pair o' nice fowl to-day, sir; all chickens; you shall 'ave that couple for one and six. Thank ye for your offer, sir; I gev more than one and three for 'em." "And why do they dress in women's clothes?" quoth Miss Scrooby, interested and innocently. "Yes. to hevade detection, miss, that's hall," chimed in Mr. Joseph Jupp, the intelligent butcher from the adjacent stall, whose mental capacity, cloudy at best, appeared to rise equal to the occasion. "Dear me!" (from Miss Scrooby, and with a pretty little look of inquiry, suggestive of anxiety for further information). "You see," said Mr. Joseph Jupp, who was an alderman of the Cuttleport Corporation. and spoke with authority; "you see, it's as this. Those theer fellows there as is doin' all this 'ere 'ave been at their little games some time. But" (significantly) "they've been an' gone an' done it this time—(Nioe leg o' pork, mum? Fourpence a. pound.) You see," he went on to say (although he knew as little J about what really had taken place as the man in the moon), "you see, they've been and got up a conspiracy against the pikes, miss- a cons pi re-acy—that is. as though I was to make up my mind to smash this 'ere stall, you see—and then I smashes it—and) then iff smashed, you see—and—and—a conspire- acy— And Alderman Jirpp's capacity tav* it up at this inextricable juncture. "But they've no bizness to go roasting poor people alive," expostulated Mrs. Midge, tartly, with a proper sense of what was due to poor people, "which were very unmanly and ferocious." "Certainly not, Mrs. Midge," rejoined the worthy alderman. "Quite right. A joke's a joke, but that's above a joke. They do say"- (lowering his voice and glancing around)— "they do say, if so be as how they tell the trooth. that the capting of the gang is" (another glanoo round, another lowering of the voice, and a gradual contraction of the little group towards Mr. Jupp in anxious expectancy) "is—one—of—the—county—ma?i»- tratee-yes, indeed." "County magistratesP" (in wonderment from several.) "Good gracious me!" (from Mrs. Midge). A look of significance came into Mr. Jupp's eyes that was quite indescribable as, turning round towards a. point of the compass where the distant ridge of mountains could be seen above the housetops that surrounded the market-place, he raised his thumb in the direction, with the word— "Kellywyn." "You don't say so?" (from Mrs. Midge, inters relatively). "Hush!" says Mr. Jupp. "Yes, one of the county magistrates." (Looking at Miss Scrooby, who was dying to know all about it, but didn't like to expose her ignorance by asking.) "He dresses in women's clothes. wears a black mask, rides a spanking black horse as ain't afeared o' nothink, and goes by the name of-" "What?" (from half a dozen). "Bebecca!" says Mr. Joseph Jtipp, delib&- rately. "Rebecca?" (from half a. dozen more, who grew interested as the plot thickened). "Yes, Rebeooa. and her Daughters," responds Mr. Joseph Jupp. "And there's fifty daughters in the gang, and they all wear black masks, and all ride spankin' black 'orses as ain't afeared o' nothing, and call themselves Rebeccarites. Beautiful shoulder o' mutton, mum-threepence a pound; nice leg—three- and-a-half, mum. Weigh it? Thank you, mum." And the retirement of Mr. Joseph Jupp inside the stall to "weigh it" led to the departure of Miss Emily Scrooby and her satellite in the picturesque Welsh costume of the period, and the little crowd dispersed. CHAPTER IV. AT THE FARMERS' ARMS, CUTTLEPORT. The group in the market, which had just broken up, had been so absorbed by the highly-intelligent narrative kindly essayed by Mr. Alderman Jupp that they failed to observe, standing near them all the while, and regarding them with a look in which amusement was not unmingled with con- tempt, a tall, gentlemanly-looking man, about whom there was an unmistakable air of mystery. Portly in build, his whole appear- ance was indicative of great physical strength, while his handsome, regular, well-set features, almost effeminate in their classic type, had in every line the distinctive mark of invincible determination—an iron will that would never despair of overcoming every obstacle to attain the desired end. He wore Hessian boots, buff leather hunting breeches, blue cloth coat with gilt buttons, sealskin waistcoat, light overcoat, thrown open in f ont, and drab broad-brimmed hat, with hando gloved in well-fitting, straw-coloured kid gloves, that set off his hands, which were unusually small and symmetrical. In one hand he held a massive, chased, gold-handled riding-whip, with which he nervously and continuously twitohed the side of one of his boots, while with the other he held by the collar a mag- nificent dog of the Newfoundland species, which sat upon its haunches at the side of its master, its huge tongue lolling lazily out. His beard of light brown hair hung low down upon his bosom, and into which a moustache fell down from the upper lip and commingled "This is the last and worst insult of all! What do you mean?" I with the mass. He glanced up and down the market wistfully and peeringly with a pair of grey-blue eyes, clear, bright, find piercing, that had more of fire and meaning in them than seemed to be at all requisite for the simple operation of a listless onlooker, as he tried to make those moving about him believe he was. There was an air of superiority about this man which struck you at a glance, and in his presence you were bound to feel mysteriously uncomfortable, but couldn't tell why. "Ie it all right, Jenkyn?" said he in an audible whisper, and without looking at the person addressed, who was a middle-aged, moody-looking man, dark and somewhat for- bidding in appearance, dressed as a farmer. wearing drab gaiters and breeches, shooting jacket, and bowler hat. The person whispered at halted, and stood close to the first speaker, but without appear- ing to recognise him. The huge Newfoundland dog gave a look of recognition and stood up, with a wave or two of his ponderous tail, but a pluck of the collar lW the gloved hand that held him brought Hhe animal quietly to its haunches again, with an apparent sense of having com- mitted himself in one way or another that was not altogether manifest to his canine per- ception. "All right, sir," was the reply of the farmer- looking man; muttered in a tone little above a whisper. "Mind, Jenkyn!" said the one addressed; "be at the same spot to-mght at twelve." "I'll be there, sir," replied Jenkyn. "ThingF are moving. The military are expected from Cardiff every hour; a detachment of the 4th Light Dragoons has been sent forward and told to be in readiness, by the Home Secre- tary's order, under the command of Major. Parlsby. Rebecca and her Daughters are' nearly on Carmarthen; they are nearing Swansea, and will soon be at Cuttleport. Have a. care, sir, or they will be down upon us before we know where we are. The police are out and about, and the country is up in arms. We have the fullest faith in you, Gordon Gurney, and will stick to you to death; but, I in Heaven's name, be careful!" "No fear, Jenkyn," replies the one addressed M Gordon Gurney. "That that scoundrel Karklake is at the bottom of all this I am as certain as that we are here; and if I don't unearth him never forgive me." The speaker muttered this with determined emphasis and with a. look which fully indi- cated his ability to carry out the prescribed plan of action, whatever that might be. "Serve him right, sir; serve him right," was the subdued reply. "Anthony Karklake, of Kellywyn, has no more mercy in his cold, cruel heart than there is in an iceberg. See how he turned us all out of Fairy Grove, after holding the farm in the family for an age- father. mother, all of us—because we sided with poor young Lord Ftederic in the great heir-at-law case. Ah! that was a piece of cold- blooded villainy, sir, as ever was in this world. But it'll come home to him—it'll come home to him," he added bitterly. "We've a crafty fox to deal With. Keep your own counsel, Gwilym. Good-bye." "Good-bye now," was the response, and the next moment the last speaker stood chatting Welsh, with the vendor of poultry. It was Gwilym Jenkyn, of Ravfenwood Farm. "Why don't you get married, Master Gwilym?" says Mrs. Midge. "You'll die an old bachelor if you don't mind, and sarve ye right." "Better remain single than fnarry a woman you can't love," replies Gwilym, changing colour slightly. "But you ought to have forgotten Gwinneth by this time. If she likes your brother Henry better than she do you—Why, a coorse, it's her duty to marry him," says Mrs. Midge. "I am not quite sure she does so," answered Gwilym. "The proof o' the puddin', Master Gwilym, is in the eatin' suggested Mrs. Midge, learnedly. "It doesn't always follow," sayd Gwilym, curtly. "Let me see," considers Mrs. Midge, "it's a matter o' five years agone since Gwennith came to live at Ravenwood with your sister, isn't it?' "More," replies Gwilym. abstractedly, fin- gering the poultry on the stall before him. "Well," philosophises Mra. Midge., "what is to be will be. and it's 6, ng use ttyiri' to make things come right way qp when there'B a something as do keep on a pullin' of 'em the wrong way down, as I do well remember in my own case often when there's no getting out o' it. Get you married, Master Gwilym; get you married, and take a wife home to Ravenwood, and let Hendry have Gwinneth. Come you." "WeUr good-bye now, says <3wilym, saun- tering away. t "0, dear me sighed Mrs. Midge, who was a corpulent specimen of human nature, bask- ing on the shady side of sixty, and appeared the most unlikely article in the world to philosophise on the grand passion. "What a thing this love is, to be sure. There's awful he looks!" (Philosophises again.) "Here's a couple o' brothers arter one gell. She's goin' to marry the one she likes, and the other she don't, like wants her to marry him, and, because sbe won't, why, he looks as though he'd slay her for it. Oh, dear! Love—love! (Buy a nice couple of fowls to-day, miss—sell you a couple cheap.)" At th6 Fa.ritiei% Afn\a ^'Se^ecca apd her Daughters" formed the tOPIC of conversation, and many and wild were the rumours carried over by the little ooterie of oountry farmers who made the house their own, and who were engaged at this particular moment disporting themselves in the smoking-room, in the matter of drink and smoke, as appeared most con- sonant with the special bent of each. "How ar-roo, Mister Jenkyn?" said the fattest and the ruddiest of the assembled guests, as Gwilym entered. "Beautiful day— what'll ye have?" Gwilym made no reply, but, sitting down, absorbed in thought, rang the bell and ordered brandy, which was promptly brought. "Let brotherly love cotttiaiue," ejaculated Aptommas, of the GnoU, a waggish young farmer, who had elevated notions of himself, taking up his rummer and sipping the liquor as though proposing a toast. Gwilym's brow grew dark and darker still, as, glancing round the room, he saw his brother Henry opposite, quietly smoking a. cigar. He had remained until then unobserved by Gwilym. At the covert taunt as to the oontimtaxlce of brotherly love the faces of the brothers flushed in embarrassment. "Shake hands and make it up, mun," said Aptommas, with the tinge of a sneer. Henry finished his liquor and rose to depart. "Cach-oo!" cried Aptommas, the mischievous rascal imitating the call of the cuckoo. "What the eye don't see the heart don't grieve for. Happy man!" "What do you mean by that?" said Henry, sharply. He had overheard the offensive suggestion, and came back, looking into the room with face all on fire and the veins on his fore- head and temple swollen like whipcord. "What do you mean?" he repeated'. I "Gwilym, perhaps, will tell you," said Ap- tommas, shrinking back like a coward from the responsibility of the innuendo. "His intended wife is the best authority," replied Gwilym, speaking slowly and emphati- cally. He spoke for the first time since he had been in the room, and his voice was husky, betraying inward emotion. The face of Henry was now as pallid as that of a. corpse. He walked right into the room, and con- fronted his brother. "Gwilym," he began, with suppressed rage and between closed teeth, "your taunts and those of others have become unbearable. This last insult is worse than all. What do you mean?" "Ask her," was the significant response, emphasising the pronoun. "Ask her?" repeated Henry, bitterly. "Yes, ask her," says Gwilym. "No doubt, she'll be truthful in this (with a sneer). Ask her who ought to be her husband; ask her who is her husband. Placing a ring on the fourth finger doesn't always give a man the title nor the rights of one. Ask her that." "Cuck-oo!" again from Aptommas. "That's hot!" Henry, white and trembling with suppressed rage and jealousy, staggered out of the room, muttering between his clenched teeth, "It'3 a gross lic-a foul. abominable lie." Aptommas went on with his banter, and I Gwilym drank deep, leaving the Farmers' Arms at length flushed and sullen. "At the old spot, at twelve," lie muttered, ai he staggered along the streets, repeating the words of the mysterious personage who had whispered to him in the market-place in the morning. "At the old place, at twelve," and he disappeared in the darkness. Half-an-hour afterwards the midnight chimes from the quaint old tower of St. David's Church at Cuttleport reminded all decent citizens—and citizenesses, too, for that matter-that there was no "place like home," after which suggestion, made in their own quiet, musical way, and satisfied that they had fulfilled an important public duty, the chimes relapsed into silence, and all was quiet as the grave, (To be continued.)

DRUNKUNNESS IN THE MINE A COLLIER'S OFFENCE AT THE SENGHENYDD PIT. -_u Before the Caerphilly magistrates on Tues- day Thos. Saunders, collier, Senghenydd, war charged with being drunk at the Universal Col, liery, Senghenydd. on March 3. Colonel Lewis. Merthyr, prosecuted, and Mr. W. P. Nicholas. Pontypridd, defended.—In opening the case Colonel Lewis detailed the circumstances under which defendant had been found in the mine, and dealt with the danger of this prac- tice, not only to the defendant, but to the other men in the pit. He called Daniel Skin, master haulier, who deposed that on the date mentioned he sent the defendant up from the pit, as he was under the influence of drink David Morris, night fireman, also spoke to seeing Saunders under the influence of drink at the pit; so did Mr. W. J. Sees, the night over- man.-Mr. Shaw, the manager, eaid that when defendant came to the pit top and said he had been accused of being drunk witness looked at him, and defendant nearly fell. on the fire. He had no doubt that he was drunk. Before leaving defendant said that he had seen Rees, the overman, sleeping when on duty on the previous Thursday. Witness did not believe it, as he thought the statement was prompted by revenge.-For the defence Mr. Nicholas called Saunders, who swore he was not drunk at the time men- tioned. It was untrue to say that he nearly fell into the fire when speaking to the manager. He 4old the manager he would stand on one leg. and did so. the manager at the time laughing and remarking, No. I can't say you are drunk. "-Cross-examined, witness said he could not read, neither did he know the colliery rules, or he would have reported the overman for sleeping before he did.—One of the workmen, named Lock, also deposed that defendant was sober at the time men- tioned, and Sam Smailman "deposed that he saw nothing wrong with the delendant.-After a lengthy hearing the Bench imposed a fine or 20s. and costs.