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cover of the darkness. He had been a good, patient, and generous master, and the servant's grief was not affected.

"Tell me why you objected to our seeing him?" I asked, as sternly as I could, for I wanted to hide how much I was touched. "He did not like people to see him alive; why should he like them to see him dead?" answered the old man.

"But how were you going to prevent it?" I asked.

"Bless you! do you think I had not made a coffin for him? It's a rough one, I know, but he would rather lie in it than be fingered by the undertaker's men. Must he be seen, sir, must

he? Oh! do, do prevent it."

I thought for a moment.

"I don't really think he need," I said; "that is, if you can get a doctor to give a certificate as to the cause of death. If I was not coroner I would do it myself."

"I've telegraphed to Mr.-," he replied, mentioning the name of the great physician who had attended Mr. Morgan," he knew him well. If his word will be enough; he will be here to


"I will see him, and then I will give an order for interment. I don't think anyone else need see the body; certainly no inquest is necessary.

There were tears in the old retainer's eyes as he thanked me, and as he added, " he was a good master and a good man."

Leaving the man, from whom we gathered that Mr. Morgan had no relations, or friends so far as was known, Mr. Bowden and Heycock, who had for years acted as solicitor for the Marglyswm estate, commenced a search in the adjoining sitting-room to find any papers which threw some light on the dead man's wishes. Meanwhile, not liking to meddle in a matter which certainly did not concern me, I amused myself by turning over the canvasses which lay heaped against the wall. To my surprise they revealed much of the sad story of Mr. Morgan's life. In each of the earlier ones the same figures appeared, and here and there bits of scenery which I recognized as places near Marglyswm. There was a picture of two lovers; another of the same pair when they were man and wife in their own home, and then several of their homelife. At last I came to one in which the same pair again figured. It was a leave-taking; the man bore upon him the tainted marks of the dread disease from which Mr. Morgan had suffered, and he was evidently sending his wife from him. The despair pictured on their faces proved that I was in the presence of the works of a man who had been no mean artist.

While I was looking at this picture, the old servant joined me. "Yes," he said interpreting my inquiring look, "the master painted the whole of his life. Poor fellow, it was all he could do."

"Did he really send his wife away?" I asked.

"Aye," replied John Evans, "and it well nigh broke both their hearts. Madame Morgan was expecting to become a mother, and the master dreaded lest his child might catch his disease, so he sent her away, poor lady. She struggled against it, aye, how she did struggle, but he persuaded her it was best for their unborn child's sake. Well, sir, it was no good. The child only lived a week, and my lady maybe a month or so longer."

Here then was the solution to another part of the mystery; there remained but one other point to clear up, and this my companions found papers to do. Mrs. Morgan had been a Pole, and, like all her country-people, she overflowed with patriotism, and managed to indoctrinate her husband with her own hatred of tyranny and sympathy with the oppressed of ill countries. Their house had been a refuge for foreigners ir. distress, and after his wife's death, when he could no longer receive them at the castle, the larger part of Mr. Morgan's income went in supporting the unfortunate exiles, who had lost their all in an unequal struggle for their country's liberty.

It may interest my readers to learn that, when Mr. Morgan's will was read, the greater part of his property was discovered to be left to charities, but no one whom he respected was forgotten. Somehow or other he had heard of certain trifling kindnesses I had been able to do for the poor of Llanclwydd, and to my surprise I found myself a legatee for a small amount. Of course the servants who witnessed the will were not mentioned in it, but Bowden informs me that Mr. Morgan had provided for them during his life.

In conclusion, I may add that if any of my readers would like to see Marglyswm Castle, and will call on me at my house, Ty Mawr, Llanelwydd, I shall be happy to show them over it, and to place my local antiquarian knowledge at their disposal. The best way to come is by the 10-30 a.m. express from Paddington to Carmarthen, and then to take a fly.

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An Anecdotic Medley




ORSE dealing is supposed to be a business in which no mercy is shown to the greenhorn. Experience purchased dearly is of greater value than that which is otherwise acquired, and certainly some horse dealers do make their customers pay through the nose for ascertaining the value of a horse. Of course there are honest dealers to be found. Some of the London men do so much business that it would not pay them to be guilty of anything like trickery or dishonesty, but the wanderers who journey from fair to fair, and from town to town, with strings of " screws," are oftentimes not quite so particular, and will resort to any dodge to get the highest possible price for the worst kind of animal. Therefore, a man who inwardly feels that he is not a thorough judge of horse-flesh should always purchase of a dealer of good standing, with a well-known place of business.

"In purchasing of a regular dealer a customer must be prepared for a little close raillery. The only way to receive it is with good humour, and if genius permits, with a repartee that may throw back the laugh.

"One day, at a dealer's, some other gentlemen were looking at the stables, and two of them at the very horse I was minutely measuring. They appeared to be a couple of schoolboys just escaped from Eton, or perhaps freshmen who had spent a term at Cambridge. The dealer was obviously speculating on a purchaser in one of these youths, and seemed nettled at my narrow scrutiny, which threatened to disappoint his designs.

"Tom, said he to his ostler, 'go to the tailor and borrow his measure and shears for the gentleman.'

"And stop at the saddler's on the way Tom, to buy a halter for your master,' I added.

"The retort told, coarse and trite as it was, and I was allowed to finish my scrutiny in peace."

* 66

One good maxim in purchasing a horse is not to expect too much for your money.

"We believe it was Lord Barrymore who, at Newmarket, among *Sir G. Stephen-Adventures of a Gentleman in Search of a Horse.

a vast crowd of the sporting world, mounted himself on a chair, and having made a signal for silence, said aloud ::

"Who wants a horse that can gallop twenty miles an hour, trot seventeen, and walk six ?'

"Of course vociferations of 'I do, I do,' were not wanting, to which the facetious nobleman replied:—

"Well, gentlemen, when I meet with such a one I will let you know!'

The greenhorn had better always take with him a friend experienced in horseflesh to see whether the animal he intends purchasing has any blemish.

A veterinary surgeon's opinion as to soundness of wind and limb should also be obtained, as well as a warranty from the vendor that the animal sold is sound and free from vice; but even these precautions sometimes are unavailing, for it occasionally happens that dealers themselves are not always familiar with their horses' defects.

"I once bought one in the country; I rode him to town-only a few miles, and he fell; he was not blemished, and I returned him. The man would not believe my story; he fancied, as they often pretend, that I returned him from caprice, and was dissatisfied. I offered to keep the horse on one condition-that he should ride with me a mile over the stones at my pace, if he did not stumble I would have him. He readily assented; we mounted, and set off at a moderate trot.

"There never was a surer-footed horse in England-stones or sward-'

But scarcely were the words out of his mouth before the animal gave him the lie direct, blemished his own knees irretrievably, and as by way of appropriate rebuke caused his rider almost to bite his tongue off in the fall! The horse had a running thrush.” †

The following anecdote, related by the writer just quoted, will show that public sales are dangerous places for sellers as well as for buyers. "A learned barrister, well known in the literary world for his critical acumen, sent his horse to the Bazaar for sale by auction. Being well aware of the tricks of such markets he attended the sale himself, and carefully noted the number of his lot in his pocket-book. He felt not a little pleased at the horse's spirited entrée when ushered up the ride, and still more gratified at the auctioneer's ingenuity in painting his merits, though utterly at a loss to guess where the deuce he had learnt them. He had purchased the animal a week before for forty guineas, and hitherto had not discovered a single redeeming quality to compensate for fifty faults. The biddings were slack however, malgré the

* Blaine's Encyclopædia of Rural Sports.

Stephen-Ad vintures of a Gentleman in Search of a Horse.

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auctioneer. Five pounds-five ten-six pounds-reluctantly dropped at long intervals. This will never do,' thought the learned gentleman, and by way of stimulating competition, he jumped at once to thirty guineas. The knowing ones stared and promptly took the hint: in less than a minute the lot was knocked down to him at fifty guineas. He regretted out-standing his market, but consoled himself with the comfortable reflection that, at least, he had learnt his horse's value, and had not been taken in by the dealer.

"By your leave-make way there-stand aside, gen'l'm'n,' and two or three rough salutations of sticks, whips, and voices, warned him of the rapid approach of the next lot. The learned counsel awoke from his reverie-rubbed his eyes-adjusted his glasses— gaped, and stared, and gaped again at the new comer with petrifiying suspicion. He turned with fumbling agitation to his pocket book, and found that, mistaking the lot, he had puffed and purchased his neighbour's horse!

"Having two worthless animals thus unexpectedly thrown upon his hands, he ventured no more on puffing, but allowed his own to go at its just price, which proved exactly enough to buy him a new wig for the circuit." *

If the barrister had been as learned in the rigs of the horse mart, as he doubtless was in the law, he would probably not have made such a mistake. However if he is still alive he may console himself with the reflection, that many others have made equally grave mistakes. The following story shows that dealers do not always make the best market. "I remember some years ago, one charming morning, we met at a favourite cover in the best part of our country. Tom Duckett was then on a splendid dark-brown horse which he had purchased some short time back out of some racing stables. He was too slow to become a plater. The horse had been seen before in one or two remarkably good things; and he looked so well on this particular day, that he attracted the attention of a gentleman who understood to the full the value of blood. A fox was soon halloed away, and the first ten minutes gave no cause of complaint to the lovers of pace; there was scarcely time to think, much less to talk, and the only things that were clearly manifest were the black skirts of Tom Duckett's coat, and the dark-brown horse's quarters in front all the way. Under the circumstances of the case, it is not extraordinary that the hounds should have over-run the scent, and the natural consequence, a slight check, ensued.

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"Three hundred, Mr. Duckett, for the brown horse,' said an eager customer, afraid of being too late in the market. Three hundred, and you may ride my second horse if you can get him, and send the brown horse home by my groom at once.'

* Sir G. Stephen-Adventures &c.

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