CHAPTER I.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XVII, Issue 3, 10 May 1889, Page 25

CHAPTER I.

It wm a queer old " slaty " village among the Welsh mountains. Slates were its life and existence, meat and drink, inasmuch as they purchased all the necessities of life for its three thousand inhabitants. Nearly all of these were employed at the enormous slate qnarries, whose tier upon tier of workings and debris rose high above the village like gigantic Bteps of stairs up the mountain's side ; whilst high above the quarries the giants of Snowdonia reared aloft peak upon peak, purple, gray, or mist crowned. Shut ia with mountain peaks, and low well* wooded hills, the village nestled under the mighty shoulder of " Carnedd Pafydd " in a green and fertile valley through which the pretty rushing trout stream meandered in many picturesque curves. The village looked its best in the last rays of the setting sun, when the crimson and gold of a sky, that was too often stormy and gray, gave warmth and richness to the prevailing cold purple and green tints of the slates that were used for every purpose in construction. They formed the roofs, window sills, door steps, pavements, gate posts, and dividing-walls. The tiny fields and gardens had low walls of horizontal slates surmounted by perpendicular blocks at intervals, giving a turreted appearance like the ramparts of an ancient castle. The people worked at the slates, talked of the slates, bought or sold or speculated in slates, until most of them were as thin and dry as the slates they vegetated amongst. We will introduce some of them to our reaiers.

In one of the large cutting sheds, with conntless thousands of slates of all sizes neatly piled around, several men were engaged in warm and angry debate ; the question at issue was the election of a medical man for the quarry Sick Club, and an animated and eager group were taking part in the discussion. "We are all Welshmen, and will be doctored by a Welshmen ; we'll have no Paddies here," said a dark-bearded man with a morose countenance, striking his clenched fist heavily on the plank table.

" It is useless discussing the matter now that the new doctor is appointed," said a gentlemanly young man named Evan Con way, the orerseer of a gallery or tier of the quarry, and secretary of the Sick Club. " There wa9 no Welsh candidate. This Terence Delaney's testimonials were the best sent in."

"Tbe man's qualifications were very good," said another voice. "Itis no use arguing with Hugh Griffiths, Mr. Conway ; he is bound to sppose whatever you propose." "I did not propose the election of any particular candidate," Conway replied ; "the letters and testimonials were laid before the club, and the members voted." " Bight you are, master," said another ; " take no notice of his tempers." "You had your chance of opposing and explaining your views at the meeting, Hugh Griffiths," said Conway. "It is too late to make a commotion over tbe matter now, For my part I think we could not have elected a better man."

" I did not know tbe man was a gaol-bird then," said Hugh Griffiths, savagely. '* I must have known, though, for most of these Irish are the same."

'• Shame on you, black Hugh," cried several of the company at

" Mr. Delaney is no gaol-bird, in the ordinary meaning of the word," Conway replied, coldly. 11 He is coming straight here from one, at any rate," sneered Hugh. " A gaol-bird is a felon," said old John Jones, a cutter, who was accounted wise and long-headed by his comrades. " Now, when a man takes a drop too much on pay-night, and can't behave himself comfortable after, and gets clappad into Bangor lock-up for seven days, he is not a felon, thou see'st lad ; but if he prigs a leg of mutton from the butcher's shop, that's a different matter — thou Bee'st again, Hugh 1 " "When a man simply goes to listen to a, bit of political speechifying, and gets run in for being present, or speaking a word, he's not to be called a felon," taid John Jones the younger.

" Every man has a right to freedom of speech," said pert David Jotcs from the " Pass," who had a weakness for exercising the right he advocated. " I respect the man for having spent a fortnight in Limbo ; and I mean to uphold him when he comes here."

'• Bravo, bravo ! I'll second Daffy Jones? " cri<d a Jones of another family (this barren mountain region produced little beyond Joneses and slates, grit and granite).

" He'll be well supported ; gas will do a lot," retorted Hugh. — " Daffy Jones has gas enough to blow up the quarries."

'' And Black Hugh has wet blankets enough to put out every spark of gas in this digging," replied Daffy the irrepressible. " He's always savage when be is in his cuba. We should not have heard a word of oppositioa if Mr. Coa way had not gone up the Pasß last night and helped farmer Wynne in the hay field when the women folk were tossing tbe hay." Griffiths bestowed a glance of malicious intent at the speaker.

" Oh, we all know that pretty Nesta Wynne is at the bottom of this," said John Jones the younger ; and the bronzed cheek of tbe youog overseer took a deeper tinge as he avoided Hugh Griffith's savage and jealous countenance.

" Let us not introduce Miss Wynne's name here," said Bras Conway. " I think it both unfair and unjust that Griffiths should be trying to excite a prejudice against the new doctor before he comes here, and so I have said. For the rest, Mr. Delaney is a perfect stranger to me ; I have nothing to gain or lose by speaking up fw him. Ido say this, though, I honour him for what he has bad to suffer simply to uphold a principle. If free speech is not a crime ia England or Wales, why should it be a crime in Ireland ? Do they run us into Bangor Gaol when Mr. Gladstone gives us a speech at Penmaenraawr or at Hawarden ? There, I've said my say, men."

" Bight you are, master," " that's so," " you're square, Evan Conway," and similar tokens of assent came from all parts of the room.

" We all know where the shoe pinches, Hugh," said Daffy of the Pass. " Farmer Wynne opens his gates to the master here, and to others, but keeps his kinsman, Hugh, over the slaty side of the wall." " Who the devil cares how many goes into old Wynne's house T " said Hugh, with a fierce oath for emphasis.

" Farmer Wynne kept that friend of yours out when he bolted you oat," answered Daffy, coolly, with the refreshing but irritating candour of a man who knows all about his neighbour's affairs, and does not mean to hide the shining light of his knowledge under the bushel of scrupulous reticence. " Owen Wynne was too wise to let a fellow who is so partial to the tap at the Quarry lon, and so free with a heavy pair of fists, keep hovering round his pretty daughter, Nesta."

" If you mention the girl's name again, you will feel the weight of the heavy fist very quickly, Daffy Jones," cried Hugh, sharply. "No quarrelliag, men," said Conway, authoritatively, "You are out of order, David Jones, in introducing irrelevant matters, and irritating a man by village tattle. The question is about the rules of the Sick Club and the election of its doctor. If there is anything more to be said on the subject let us have it. If you are trying to raise a quarrel I shall collect the fines from you." Though Evan Conway was Hugh Griffiths' rival, he had a fellowfeeling for him at the present moment. Hugh's unfortunate love affair had been village gossip ; he had unwisely set his heart upon marrying his pretty young cousin — cousinship is a very extended relationship in the principality— but Nesta would have none of him ; be was more thanthirty, quite old in the eyes of a bright young maiden. From pleading he had gone on to threatening, and Nesta repulsed him, affrighted by his violence ; and the farmer had ordered him never to enter his doors again. This had happened more than a year since, and Hugh outwardly seemed to have accepted his fate, but inwardly he was consumed by a mad feeling of jealousy against all possible rivals ; and he often attempted to speak to Nesta when intoxicated, a very frequent occurrence of late. Ever since Evan Conway had been appointed to fill tbe post once held by Hugh, but lost through his intemperate habits, Hugh had become more like a madman than a responsible being, particularly when he learnt that the young ovesseer was a welcome guest at the farm. After this disgression we must return to the clubroom, where much noisy talk was going on.

" Is this the clubroom of the quarry?" asked a pleasant voice from near the door. " I have been directed here. I wish to report myself to the secretary, Mr. Evan Conway ; my name is Terence Delaney."

The young doctor was cordially welcomed by Conway and introduced to the members present. The secretary and the naw comer walked from the club together. From that night a steady friendship grew up between the two young men.

They lived in the same house aad ia as close companiouship as brothers. Hugh Griffiths hated Delaney as cordially as he hated Conway.

No man is so unpopular as not to have some followers and partisans, and Hugh Griffiths had a certain popularity among the worst and most dangerous of the " hands," the loafers and drinkers. He was generous when " half seas over," and as that had been almost bis chronic condition for some weeks past he had quite a following at bis bidding. Thus matters were progressing all the autumn and early winter.

About three miles from the village, up the wild, moraine strewn valley which divides the enormous bulk of " Carnedd Dafydd " from the " Glyders," there are some green aad fertile plots on the sunny side of the mountain's lower slopes, which the mountain screes and the slate debris have not yet entombed under their barren ugliness, and a few isolated farm-houses were dotted about the deep trencb of tbe valley. They are one story ed, white-washed, and roofed with great slabs of solid slate, and upon the roofs huge blocks of granite or grit were laid to protect the houses from being stripped in the wild tempests and mountain storms which sweep through the Pass with terrific force daring the winter. In the largest of these monutain farm-houses dwelt Farmer Wynne, his wife, two sons, and a daughter.

Nesta Wynne was the belle of the mountain and Pass ; she was the bonniest rosebud of a girl, so pink and dimpled, such a saucy, piquant face, merry brown eyes and bright golden curls, and such a winning and fascinating smile ; it was no wonder that her friends almost idolised her. All tbe eligible young men of the district were in love with her. Evan Conway had been devoted to her since his arrival at the quarry, and the susceptible young doctor, Terence Dclaney, was soon her willing slave. Neata was no coquette ; she was as simple and modest as a mountain daisy, and thought it '•awfully silly" that so many young men were always running after Owen and Morgan, her two brothers. The brothers of pretty girls are usually very popular ! As yet she bad shown no especial prefer* ence for any of her suitors ; she talked more freely to Terence Delaney, "because he spoke of topics that interested her more than the sports and pastimes, the sheep or the slates, which formed tbe staple subjects of conversation of the moun tain youths . She appeared rather afraid of the grave, business-like Evan Conway, and avoided.

him more or less ; she thought that a frivolous girl, with a mere pink and white face, could have no interest for him.

Evan aud Terence knew each other's secret; thus there was very little jealousy between them in their wooing. Outspoken Evan had Baid from the first : '* A fair field for both, Terence, and no favour. Let tbe little girl choose between us ; our setting np a private feud and cultivating bitterness of spirit against each other will not influence Nesta's choice. I love her well enough to desire her happiness before my own ; if she thinks she will be happier with you, then let it be bo. But for all that I mean to lose no chance of trying togain her affections." "All right, Evan," said his friend, " I will do the s^me ; and when Nesta has decide! for one of us, let the other oaar his disappointment manfully." Neither of them had as yet tempted fate by a proposal of marriage.