Welsh Journals

THE SCHOOLMISTRESS OF CERDYN. II. — GWEN. ON Saturday afternoon the school¬ mistress, according to her wont, started for a walk. Her goal was a solitary- cottage on the hillside, away from the dust and tumult of the town. During her early days in Cerdyn her rambles had often led her past this cottage, stone-built and grey- slated like its prototypes in the village. It stood somewhat back from the road, sheltered to the north by a wood, which, all unenclosed, straggled along the hillside, now running even with the road, now receding and leaving traits of open ground clothed with bracken and gorse and bramble. On one such space stood the cottage. The schoolmistress, who was of an imaginative turn of mind, fond of associat¬ ing places with fancies woven out of her own brain, had made this woodland hovel the scene of many a romantic episode, before she came to know its inmates. Not that the effect of the building was in itself picturesque. The solid stone walls, the straight roof and square prosaic windows, had no beauty of outline to recommend them, and the bushy creeper trained over the doorway did little to conceal the general bareness of design. Nevertheless the grey stone of which such cottages are built in time assumes a weather-beaten appearance in harmony with the surround¬ ing tints of wood and moorland. For the discerning eye will note that the dull stones, at first sight so monotonous, are often varied by hues of brown and red, and sparkle with tiny crystals, whilst the damp climate encourages the spread of mossy growth in every available niche. The plot of ground before the cottage was rough and untended, a few slabs of pavement marked the threshold, whilst potatoes and cabbages struggled with weeds for the possession of a strip of garden in the rear. Ten minutes' walk beyond this spot, and the rough mountain road emerged on to the grassy upland, where the breeze, salt and invigorating, blew across many wind¬ swept heights from the Atlantic, uncon- taminated by the dust and steam of the collieries below. On one occasion the schoolmistress, returning from a ramlile, caught, borne upon the wind, the sound of a child's cry, arising from no great distance. Directing her steps away from the main track down the hillside, where rocks and brambles marked the outskirts of the wood, she perceived two children. One, seated on the ground beside a tin can which had rolled over, dispersing its contents far and wide, was howling pitifully. The other, older by a year or two, stood over him, talking vociferously in Welsh, whether scolding or comforting it was difficult to guess, for the Welsh, like some more southern races, have at all times a vehemence of utterance bewildering to the calmer Saxon temperament. At sight of the schoolmistress the boy's howls were subdued to a whimper, whilst the little sister rubbed his face with her pinafore, now administering her consolations in English, as more likely to appeal to the sympathies of the stranger. " Come now, David John, don't you go for to cry now, there's the lady coming." They were rosy-cheeked children, with large grey eyes, curling fair hair, and grimy faces smeared with blackberry juice. The schoolmistress did not recognise them as among her acquaintance. " Why, little one, are you crying over spilt blackberries ?" she inquired. " Iss," said the little girl, looking up half-shyly. " Were you picking them for your mother ?" " Naw, for my grannie. She did tell us to fill both them cans, and be back at six. There's nasty she'll be now," added the child, looking gloomily at the spilt fruit. The schoolmistress volunteered to restore them to the can, and with the girl's help soon accomplished the task. The boy stood by, red and sulky, his little chest still heaving with sobs. To avoid further accidents, Janet took charge of the can in 485