day, and his return was being looked for most anxiously by Hirell and Kezia, for on the dresser in a conspicuous placethat their eyes might be gladdened by the sight of it all day— was Hugh's first letter.

Even when Elias returned, it was not taken down from its place till the meal was over, and the fireside prepared as for an honoured guest, and then Elias got up and took the letter, and, returning to his place, read it aloud to Hirell and Kezia.

London,

‘DEAR BROTHER, I hope you will all forgive me for not writing before; I have so little time to myself, but I will manage differently in future. I will write as you wished me, regularly, and conceal nothing from you. In the first place, then, to do this I am afraid I must shock you, as I have already done Ephraim Jones, by declaring that I like, admire, and almost reverence London.'

He made

Elias paused, and read the passage to himself again slowly, while Kezia and Hirell looked at him thoughtfully. no comment, however, but went on.

'Life here is life indeed. Since I came I have seemed hardly to want food or sleep.'

Then surely he isn't well,' said Kezia, anxiously; 'but I beg your pardon, Elias;' and Elias continued—

'I am at the office by nine, but between that time and the time I rise I have generally seen more than I have done in the whole course of my life at home. Then when I leave the office my real day begins. I wish I could describe to you the feeling of hope and confidence I have as I roam about by myself—as I stand on the bridges, looking at the reflection of the lamps in the river and thinking of home-of what temptations I have to do something with this restless strength which the rich life of this place and its infinite possibilities give me. I have already some good news for you. It was only yesterday that I summoned up courage to go to Mr. with the letter of introduction-recommendation, perhaps I should call it from Mr. Rhys. I found him very stiff before he read the letter, and very kind afterwards. When we had talked a little while, chiefly about the Eisteddfod, he took me into the

study, where his harp, a present from the Queen, was, and he asked me to let him hear me play. I did so. I was prepared for any roughness, any condemnation-for great musicians are proverbially eccentric-and I said to myself, if I have made a mistake, or if Mr. Rhys is mistaken in me, I shall hear it now without ceremony. I was prepared to see him laugh, sneer, anything but come to me in the simple manner he did, and tell me that his friend Owen Rhys was quite right, that my talent was very extraordinary. His extreme gentleness and quietness made me quiet while with him, but no sooner was I out of the house than it seemed as if my happiness would choke me. I whistled, hummed, walked, ran, but my excitement only increased as it grew later, and I approached nearer home. To put my finger under the door, find my latch-key, and go up to my room, seemed an impossibility. I wandered on past the house to the end of the street. It was a moonlight night, and I heard something like music. I found it was a wretched tinkling when I came to the public-house at the corner of a low street, where three fellows were playing on a fiddle, flageolet, and-O Cambria ! -a harp. It was a wretched thing, but not so bad as the poor old chap who played it would have made us believe. His fingers trembled as if he had the palsy. His poor, thin face was turned over his shoulder, as if sick of his own music. Of his two companions, one looked an idiot and the other a rogue, on whose face appeared to me stamped all sorts of vilainy.

'When I saw the poor creatures creeping out of the ginshop, and out of the wretched houses down the street, and approaching to listen to this trio, I watched them to observe whether they derived from the music the comfort, or pleasure, or excitement they seemed to expect. The air, which made itself apparent to me through the discord, had a certain low, smart cunning in its turns that I cannot describe to you, but that seemed to gratify the listeners vastly and to awaken in them emotions which, judging from the expressions of their faces, the antics of their hands and feet, must have been at once ugly, wicked, and, in spite of a gleam of devilish mirth, most miserable. Elias, you will be annoyed at what I did, but you must remember how excited I was with Mr. praise, and the bright hopes that had been kindled by it; And when I saw these poor souls being played to by disease,

-'s

idiotcy, and vice, each of which infused its own peculiar spirit into the music and was reflected on the listeners' faces, I felt as if something most holy, most divine, were being desecrated, and made to lie to those who had the sorest need of its truth, its sweetness, and comfort. Music was beating, burning at my fingers' ends. Almost before I knew what I was doing, I had gently taken my place between the poor old fellow and his harp, and the ill-treated chords and I understood each other. You will laugh at my egotism, but I never enjoyed the possession of such power as I did at that moment. It was as though the spirit of all the music that had been murdered on those strings revived and sang under my hands. I played the "March of the Men of Harlech." With increasing power, excitement and delight, I watched slouching limbs straighten slowly, and eyes lose their gin-fevered light, as if a breath of our own mountain air, borne on the music, had blown it out. They hurried, more and more of them, up the street-they crowded round me. The march to which I was calling them became to me as a march of souls-the battle as a battle against poverty, misery, and infamy.

'Oh Elias! no Cambrian chivalry ever answered to the call more readily than they. Up they came from street and alley, in rags, dirt, half nakedness, and tinsel. At any other time I should have seen such a crowd with horror, for I had never realised the existence of such beings as I saw about me. But what could I do? whither could I lead them, now that they had come? I asked myself, as I played on. My heart seemed to dissolve at the thought that they must go away no richer than they came. I stopped the march, and played our sweet "Ar hyd y nos," as tenderly as I could, trying, like a modern David, to tame and comfort this wild and many-headed Saul.

'Suddenly a heavy hand fell on my shoulder, I was forced to let go the harp, and thrust unceremoniously through the crowd, and in a few minutes found myself at the door of the house where I lodge, struggling and laughing in the grasp of Ephraim Jones.

I must stop now. It is nearly three o'clock, and while I am at that place-which something prophesies will not be for long-I must keep its hours; so now for bed. If Ephraim Jones goes down to Dolgarrog next month, about this new prayer society, I shall send you some powder for destroying

rats. It is advertised everywhere here. Give my love to Hirell, and tell her not to laugh at my first bardic exploit ; and please to give Kezia my most respectful regards, and believe me, Elias, your affectionate brother,

'HUGH MORGAN.

'N.B.-In Kezia's last letter she tells me of every one but herself. Let her know that I have noticed this.'

Kezia looked up and coloured faintly at the idea of being so remembered by one whom she and Hirell were regarding as the greatest hero in London. Both pairs of eyes that Elias met as he finished Hugh's letter were so full of pride and tenderness, that he was for the moment half ashamed of the anxiety in his own.

Hugh had not said one word about his work at Tidman's office, the real business of his life, except in the hint about not long keeping to it, a hint which filled Elias with alarm.

Seeing them so proud and happy over the letter, Elias could not bear to damp their pleasure by showing them this, but took it to himself as another cross to bear in secret.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

DOES HE STAY OR GO?

THE intentions of his lodger concerning his winter home. became a theme of anxious speculation to Elias Morgan. Would he stay with them till the spring, or would he suddenly make up his mind to go? As far as Elias could tell, he was in a strange state of indecision. One day he would talk of sending him a certain farming book if he should be in London next month, and the next would express his intention of ascending Criba Ban in mid-winter, or visiting certain waterfalls in February. He did not know what hopes, fears, and grave consultations every word of this kind caused Elias and Kezia, or he would, perhaps, have been more careful.

As Mr. Rymer paid well for his rooms, it would have been a great comfort to Elias could he have been certain of his continuing with them through the winter. But the lodger seemed resolved on not letting them enjoy any certainty on the subject,

Weeks passed and still he did not go, neither did he state or hint at any intention of staying.

When the long, cold evenings had set in and made all the little household draw closer together round the chimney-place, Mr. Rymer was still there to draw his chair in with the rest.

When the first fall of snow lay on the mountains, still there he was to delight them by his admiration of the soft and lovely outlines.

When the Christmas waits came round, he was still there. They heard his window open to let in the wild music, and his silver ring down merrily on the frosty ground.

On Christmas day, when all at Bod Elian rose up before six and went by starlight and lantern light to early service at the little chapel, Mr. Rymer was among them.

When one morning, after the winds had been for many days blowing soft and sweet, Hirell ran into the house and called all to come and see a snowy, shivering, little creature, the first lamb of the new year, bleating piteously behind the back shed door, she called Mr. Rymer with the rest, for he had not gone.

When the almost perpendicular field in front of Bod Elian, to which Elias's chief care had been given, shone like an emerald shield on the breast of Moel Mawr, and began to be silvered over with daisies, he praised it with the rest, for yet he had not gone.

When the ethereal garden trees put on their faint white and green, he was still there to think how much more than ever like the apparition of a garden it looked upon the black hillside.

When the carnival of solitude had begun, and a sweet life and tumult pervaded the secret places of the hills; when the primroses gleamed like lamps along the way, and the dogviolets like little blue-hooded peasants came thronging up the mountain sides, his wandering footsteps crushed them oftener than any other-lingering still.

They lingered and seemed likely to linger; yet never at the beginning of the much-dreaded winter had Elias Morgan wished his lodger to stay half as earnestly as he now longed for his departure.

Kezia had discovered-and shown to Elias-certain cards bearing the name of Mr. John R. Cunliff.

Kezia,' he said one evening, entering the kitchen and looking at the young woman with a sharp anxious glance, Where is Hirell?