The times., 1898-10-02
A Welsh Newell.

A Welsh Novel.
1.-THE Lady of Casten March, by owen
Rhoscomyl has the attraction evident at
first sight of dealing with a place and
period almost untouched by the novelist.
1t is historical novel of Welsh life in the
days of the Tudors, and as the material
for such work is somewhat scant, unless
one knows where TO look for 1t, this book
has nothing hackneyed in it's scene or
characters, and will be to most literary
browsers a gate opened into fresh fields
and pastures new" If he had done moth
ing more than this the author would have
done something.
But the book would have been interest
ing in any event The story is well told
and the plot well constructed. The
character work is vigorous and vivid
The language is well chosen. In short
THE Lady of Castell March" is a very
good historical novel, which does not
weary the reader with too many doses
of history. but, as such book should do
reproduces the atmosphere of the time i'll
an effective way.
The hero is a young Welshman who, at
the beginning of the book Is obliged to
flee from home on account of murder
done to avenge the death of his father
He falls in with a man who is possessed
of much personal magnetism. and who
also has wrong to avenge. The two be
come allies, and presently the Lady of
Castell March herself comes on the scene
She is rescued from one or two very dan
gerons predicaments, and wooed and won
in the meantime. The chapter or two in
which She is first seen by the hero, and
believed by him to be fairy CWelsh
fairies are of human siZe) or some less
innocent being, is one of the rarest bits
of work in the book. There is delicacv
of touch about # which brings back the
time when the Idyls of the King were
not an old story, and one could marvel
over Tennysons knights and women as a
child delights In fairy tales. The descrip-
tlon may be worth reproducing though II
loses somewhat of its charm when remov-
sd from the atmosphere of the book:
My eyes were eager for the sea as | passed out.
and so | saw nothing but the flaming sun and the
gorgeous welter of his path below while with
long strides went down the stony beach till I
stood upon the narrow strip Of sand whereon the
foam splashed itself like split Jewels Much
marveled If those wondrOus lights were not of
wizards magic. Yea, for this shore was haunted
Here 1t was in old time that Vivian had cast her
spells on Merlin, and when all the rest of Vorti-
6tlh Etl4ilue udu ptIlSil6u WIN lnelr KING ana
castle, under the dolorous stroke of the light
ming, she lured him here from this beach into
the Ship of Glass that carried him away across
the sea to her island OF enchantment. Well
might that isle be enchanted which must be sail
ed for such shining sea as this. All things
were possible here for the glamour of this un
christian place was creeping through my eyes
into my very bones. Then, still with my eyes TO
the and sea | began to walk toward the
great gray cliff that cut off the beach to the
south
had gone, perhaps three score PAGES when
something drew my eyes inland, over my other
shoulder. and sooner had l looked than /
stopped in my stride, suddenly though
warder had challenged me. There on the mar
gin of the shore, swelled little green mound
no bigger about in compass than lady's bower
and draped all with the purple arras OF bios
somed thyme while on it sat lady such as the
old Knights saw when they rode quest from
Arthurs Court.
Young she was; maid yet clad in a robe of
fame-colored silk like maid of old-world story
and her arms shone round and smooth and white
as nsrwhales tooth where she sat, with ell
bows on knees, holding her face in her hands
while she looked full pensivey out over the gilt
tering sea. About her brow was fillet of twist
ed silver, set in front with a great round Jewell
which blazed and quivered binding bright in the
rays OF the level sun. Her heavy tresses were
ahame with the ruddy light as they hung down
by cheek and neck and shoulder, and all the
luster of that radiant sea glowed in the softened
glory of her eyes that shamed the jewel above.
falrG maid dld never meet the eye OF mortal
man, nor in a filter place
/ had come almost between her and the sun
before / was aware, and now as | paused she
shifted her gaze just long enough to see if were
a or what, that walked that way and dis
turbed her. Then calm and unmoved her eyes
went back to the sea and the and the ban
nered west, as if l existed no longer; while l
went backward for a pace or two like one who
finds himself over his mark.
As passed the little mound whereon she lad
been sitting l that the trefol grew thickly
at the foot of it. ''She is like OIwen," said to
myself, aloud ''Harpers tell that in Arthur's day
where Olwen walked three white trefoils sprang
up in her footsteps as she passed. Now do l
know that olwen was no dream of bard but living
woman, for this is she, surely
The story is full of action, and the at
tention of the reader is held from begin
ming to end. 1t is a good book for a long
winter evening. when every one else is
away and one desires something which
will remove the mind from all common
sights and sounds and recreate it by
journey to far countries. (New York:
Doubleday & Mcclure Company. Wash
ington: Woodward & Lothrop)