Welsh Journals

cottage school had the opportunity of enjoying their recreation in an ideal playground, the Gar- den of Eden-a strip of land which bore that name on the other side of the road. In my time Robleck had been dismantled by age and the gwynt o' allan (westerly winds), and was regarded as the haunt of gaunt ghosts and other nocturnal pilgrims. His next school was in a building within Mac- pelah, the burial ground of the Baptists. The dominie this time was the Rev. G. H. Roberts, the pastor of Tabor Baptist Church. Mr. Roberts was a sound disciplinarian as the testimonials have it. He inaugurated a system, whereby if a pupil seemed to have transgressed, he was to be tried by twelve jurors or fellow- pupils, with the headmaster as judge. The case would be tried, with a counsel for the defence, and a counsel for the prosecution, wit- nesses would be called, the twelve good men and true would retire to consider their verdict, and the prisoner would be acquitted or punished according to their decision. It so happened that in course of time William Griffith Howell was thus arraigned for an offence against the regulations of the school. The court of justice was soon sitting on his case, and the jury who seemed to have a temporary grudge against the prisoner, brought in a verdict of guilty and he was severely punished by the reverend gentleman, the judge for the occasion becoming a sheriff for the execution of judgment. But the defendant had the last word on the matter, for he left for ever the Macpelah School and its playground among the tombs. Now I wish to state here, by way of inter- Yes, I am Death Whom men call King of All. I, King? Oh, how I laugh That men should me thus call Who am The chiefest Servant of them all. What is this power of mine That men mistake for kingship? True it is, Once in the life of every living thing There comes a moment when my word is Law- What of it? I am not The Arbiter of human destinies. I am the blind unthinking Slave of Purpose: Prime Minister of Life my office is And men love Life-will fight for it Against th' Eternal Powers- Yet me they hate! Oh, would that thev Could see me as I am. ruption, and for the information of both biograph- ers of the Right Hon. D. Lloyd George, that about that time the revered father of the eminent statesman lived at a place called Cilwenen, not far from Trewrach, and conducted a private school there. The probable reason why William Griffith Howell did not attend Mr. William George's school was the allegiance of the Trew- arch family to their pastor, Mr. Roberts. But he turned his back on the pastor and his school, and went to sea. He joined the ship of Captain Mendus at Milford Haven, but like Robinson Crusoe and others, his first voyage was anything but pleasant for the rough passage he experienced made him sick of the sea. And there was no more sea for him. His next move was back to the land. He came home, and worked a little on the farm at Trewrach," as his brother relates. But work- ing on the farm did not last long, as it did not suit him." Neither did his next occupation suit him. He was apprenticed to a tailor at Fish- guard, spent three years there, and afterwards commenced a tailoring business at Dinas. Then came the turning point in his career. Whoever was the kind genius who directed his thoughts towards a scholastic career, I know not. I have a strong suspicion that it was the Rev. Rufus Williams. He left the tailoring business, and attended the Fishguard National School under a Mr. Lewis who coached him with a view to his entering the Bangor Normal College. He was admitted into the Preparatory Class of that College in 1866, and the following year we find him enrolled as a student. (To be Continued.) DEATH. Some do-but very few Few know their power to see Beyond the door of which I keep the key. The very young, Until despoiled of their ingenuousness, Shrink not from my embrace. The very old, Grown wise to all the vanities of Earth, Know me as their best friend. The rest? 'Tis they who call me King, And hate me-picture me As something grim and ghastly- I am not! I am the Gateway to a Larger Life, The Herald of the bright Eternal Dav. So learn to love me, foolish sons of Earth, And do not shudder when my shadow falls Across your path. I am your chiefest Friend I am but the Beginning-not the End. A. E. Morris.