The Sun.
London, England, 1864-11-17 00:00:00

A WSLPH MAIDEN.

She was a tall, well-made girl of sixteen, with a com-
plexion in which the rosy hue of health was enriched with
golden sun-tints till it seemed darker than it was by
nature ; her features were good and clearly defined, but
the charm of her whole countenance was in her beautiful,
dark grey eyes, eyes of that old Bi Well type, sometimes
grey and sometimes brown, which to this day are charac-
teristic of the Welsh. Deep, clear, and dark eyes, yet
filled with light ; eyes they are such as flashed in the proud,
indignant countenance of Boadicea, or spoke the eloquence
of the Divine Truth in that of the British Princess, the
Empress Helena, the mother of Constantine, whose beloved
name Cymrian tradition has gratefully retained in many a
beautiful locality. Laura's eyes were of this class, and
therefore very beautiful ; and though her brown and
wavy hair was somewhat wild and unkempt, in accordance
with her sunburnt complexion, she was one of the plea-
santest objects you would meet with on a summer's day, a
regular mountain maiden beaming with health and good
humour. Wordsworth, had he seen her, would have written
a poem on her, or had there been a pre-Raphaelite painter
in those parts before the class existed in England, he would
have gone wild over the rich. lovely colouring of her com-
plexion, her speaking eyes, and the simple joyousness of
her countenance as a bit of beautiful nature.

The prominent character of the first volume, in fact
the masterpiece of the whole work, is old Simeon
Hughes, the earnest, simple-hearted, God-fearing
owner of Fridd-back, tempted towards the close of
his life, in an ill.omened hour, to become the pur-
chaser of the rich domain of Caergwyn. After old
Simeon's death Caergwyn is fora time withheld
from the orphan inheritors by th© unfaithful
steward to whom it has been entrusted. The Cost
of Caergwyn, the heavy cost hazarded by the trea-
cherous Grono Vaughan, is awfully indicated on
the title page, where are quoted those terrible
words, " What shall it profit a man if he gain the
whole world and lose his own soul ?" This
price, which the unjust and unscrupnlous
do not hesitate to adventure, is the fearful
Cost of Caergwyn, which gives ite name to Mrs.
Howitt's enthralling history. The character of
Grono Vaughan, as he yields to temptation and
descends, step by step, down that fatally rapid
incline which leads to destruction, is powerfully
described; but even yet more powerful is the pick
ture of old Simeon, in the first volume. As a speci-
men of the natural style of the narrative we can-
not do better than quote the following gossipping
reminiscences. Mr. Rutherford is a wealthy Eng-
lishman, with numbers of Welshmen in his em-
ploy :

" Why, you see, Susannah," returned Grotto, "Mr
Rutherford was always fond of walking; he used to go
after plants and stones. I've known him to walk twenty
miles after a bit of moss without a leaf on it I Well, he
was corning home one dark Saturday night in February,
when the weather had turned stormy,and the wind was high.
Right over the top of Pentaren-bath he came, which is a
nasty place, when there's any wind, following a little path
along a ledge on the face of the rock, with the rock rising
like a wall above, and nothing to hold by, and a sheer
precipice below. Everybody knows the spot well enough,"
"Ay, sure l" "Yes, indeed I" acquiesced several, and
Grote) proceeded :

" It was a queer placo to be walking along at night for
any one, especially that was not used to the country, And
just as he gets there, in the pitch darkness, he comes face
to face with a man, He shouts to him in English, and the
man shouts to him in Welsh, and neither understands what
the other says. He declared that the man sprang at his
throat, and tried to throttle him,"

"He was tipsy himself I" interrupted Mrs Vaughan.
"I always said so, and always shall say so. Besides, it was
Saturday night I"
" How like a fool you talk, Lisabeth," exclaimed her
husband contemptuously, " what was Saturday night to
him ? He could have ale or wine enough whenever he
wanted it. Besides, he was not a man given to liquor ;
never was, and never will be I He was sober; the man
might be drunk if you will I However, they went at it,
and a desperate struggle they had, and over the rook
he was pitched. And that's the wonderful part of it to me,
that he was not killed."

" I don't believe he ever was pitched over the rook,"
interrupted the Wern-y-pandy weaver, "and it doesn't
stand to reason. Nobody could be pitched over there and
not be killed I Why, there was nothing but a young sap-
ling, that a child might have pulled up, to save him I"
" There's something queer about it somewhere," said
Grano ; " and you see, Susannah," continued he, again
addressing her, "there was nobody to give any account of
it but himself. There was a fight, no doubt, with some •
body, for all the country went up next day, and for days
afterwards, to see the spot. There were no foot-prints,
because it was hard rooks, but the very rock itself was
broken in many places. And thanks were given in the
church after service that he was not killed. On Monday
he had all his people sent for, and told them he knew it was
one of them, and that he could lay his hand on the man that
did it, but he forgave hire, and he wouldn't say which of
them it was."

" That was the very thing," said the old miller, "that
offended everybody."

" Never would say which of them it was," repeated
Grono ; " said he forgave his intended runrderer, but
wouldn't name him; said he left him to the punishment
of God, and of hie own conscience I But that wouldn't do.
They said, and they say to this day, 'lf he knows the
guilty man, lot him point him out, and not leave the charge
to rest against every one of us I"

Years after this incident had occurred an old man,
moved by the solemn teaching of good Simeon,
comes to him and tells him that he was Mr. Ruther-
ford's intending murderer. Very touching is the
description of the two old men going together
to confess the once-intended crime to the
meditated victim. Neither of them can speak
a word of English, and Mr. Rutherford is ignorant
of Welsh. Not wishing to make the penitent's
confession known to a third party, Simeon Hughes
takes his Welsh Bible with him, and, asking for an
English Testament, finds by the help of chapter
and verse the corresponding passage in the unfa-
miliar language, and, pointing to his companion,
pats before the astonished Mr Rutherford the
exclamation of the Penitent Prodigal. Very force-
fully and very beautifully is the whole scene por-
trayed. Wo are only spoiling it by any attempt at
a description. Let us rather give the following
happy history of a good clock that would have been
dear to the heart of George Cruikehank :