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Updated: June 5, 2025
It is all madness; I cannot fathom the meaning of these things. In position on the Bristol line of approach, the weather is bad. At twenty metres. Once again Death has stretched forth his bony fingers to catch me by the throat, and only by a chance have I wriggled free. Yesterday afternoon at 5 p.m. we sighted a small steamer flying Spanish colours and steering for Cardiff.
Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away!
This suited the boys as well, and a little later, with the chief photographer, they started back for the lighthouse. They found the secret service men and Tom Cardiff waiting for them, and, well armed, in addition to the clubs they carried, and with ropes to bind the wreckers, they started off.
It is not alone in Flanders or on the North Sea that our country's battle is being fought, and when I think I hear the hammering on ten thousand anvils in the forges of Woolwich, Newcastle, and Glasgow, and the thud of picks in the coal and iron mines of Cardiff, Wigan, and Cleator Moor, where hundreds of thousands of men are working long shifts day and night, half-naked under the fierce heat of furnaces, sometimes half choked by the escaping fumes of fire-damp, I tell myself it is not for me, too old for active service and only able to use a pen, to dishonour England, and her Empire, in the presence of her Allies, or weaken her in the face of her enemies, by one word of complaint against the young manhood of my country.
But the King was not present: and there were several peers absent, in attendance on His Majesty; among them the Duke of York, the Earl of Cambridge, and the Earl of Kent. The House had met to try a prisoner: and the prisoner was solemnly summoned by a herald's voice to the bar. "Custance of Langley, Baroness of Cardiff!"
Cardiff holds in pure white marble the most thrilling interpretation of Welsh history, in the twelve white marble statues of the great men of Wales. The Welsh people, by bloodless victory, have won the respect of all mankind. They set a beacon for the oppressed nations. In the World War of 1914-1918, they helped to save freedom and civilization. They were in the van.
From this point, however, we had to beat up all the way to Cardiff, as the easterly wind was blowing straight down the Bristol Channel, and consequently dead in our teeth, as soon as we began to bear up.
"And, pray you, which were better to have a stone or a butterfly to your wife?" asked Hugh, laughingly. "The stone, in good surety," said Bertram. "Very well," responded Hugh, rather drily; "but the stone might hurt thee." The summer passed very quietly at Cardiff, except for one incident.
The Duke of York and his Duchess not long married and the Earl of Cambridge, journeyed to Cardiff for their sister's wedding. The Duchess of York, though both an heiress and a beauty, left no mark on her time. She was by profession at least a Lollard; and since Lollardism was not now walking in silver slippers, this says something for her.
A floating farm-yard best describes the appearance of the upper deck, with the white pony heads peeping out of their stables, dogs chained to stanchions, rails, and ring-bolts, pet rabbits lolloping around the ready supply of compressed hay, and forage here, there, and everywhere. If the "Terra Nova" was deeply laden from Cardiff, imagine what she looked like leaving New Zealand.
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