Welsh Journals

cream cartons strewn over the sand. And Crawley, with its sweet overgrowth of green, cursed for three years with a barren nut tree Only the face that is made of wax is free from scars. Now the search is over and the scars are graven on the secret places of my heart. And not the scars only, but all the bright radiances of a new experience. The new experience of finding a wreck buried in the sands of Rhosili Bay and wanting to dig it out, the piled-up sandhills around Penard Castle, the iron ladder on the rock at Rother- slade, the yellow marsh-irises of Carter's Ford, the bird songs of Caswell Valley, Penrice's countless rabbits, the little striped red and white bathing machines at Bracelet which donkeys pulled to the water's edge, the satisfying smoothness of the stones at Langland, the village green at Reynoldston where they danced the Gower Reel, and the sea, the timeless sea, at Rhosili. Now I know that I shall never dig out Rhosili's weathered wreck, nor bathe from a donkey driven machine at Bracelet. I shall never dive from the iron ladder on the rock at Rotherslade. I shall never feel again the soft rush of sand as I slide from the castle-top at Pennard. But I shall stand again at the top of the Great Tor to watch the changing face of Gower, that large, that lovely, that human face. Fear shall go far from me and all sense of loss. The ghost of Oxwich Church will cease to haunt me and death, coming on the hills between Llanmadog and Llangenydd, will seem a splendid thing. Dorothy Williams. DAI MWNCI'S TALE: A MORAL David Canolwyn Davies was a man of few words, very few words, but unlike some men of so few words, he thought a great deal about what he heard and saw. His lot was a good one, but he suffered from what he called a drawback "-he had worn spectacles since child- hood, and it was on this portion of his lot that he always dwelt True, he had played rugby for the county school and he played for part of three or four seasons for Penclawdd-without his glasses of course but whereas, when training in his glasses he could give and take his passes as well as-well, as well as Willie Davies or Haydn Tanner, he felt himself to be at a real disadvantage when playing in matches without his glasses. Of course, there were other disad- vantages too. The war, which wrought changes in so many of us, wrought also changes in Mr. Davies. The still waters moved He saw in the paper that plastic contact lenses could be made to fit your eyes inside your lids-no spectacles: he thought about science and progress. Another day, he read in the paper that aircrews flying at