Saxon and Kelt have in their ways thus installed the community in comfort and position, in glides the Jew with his money bags, and will you buy, will you buy, will you buy' becomes the ring of the street and the market. So commerce completes the whole. The Jew does more than this: he brings music also, enterprise, and, until he feels his way, long-sufferance and stability. In these combinations the three races help each other. Will the partnership survive? The danger underlying the Saxon is physical power. The danger of the Jew is money. Heaps of gold are the Goodwin Sands of the Jewish race. The Kelt is safer on these grounds. The Jew may amass wealth, may hold the capital, may dispense and equalise the capital; he is safe at that so long as he does not show his wealth, too feebly hidden, and does not attempt to dominate or put his hand into the works of the mighty Saxon engine. Let him expose his wealth, display himself on it, try to rule by it, and he is under that iron heel of Saxon power again as sure as ever he was before. This is his danger, and, as events elsewhere have shown, it is ever imminent. The danger to the Saxon is with himself of himself. Saxon and Saxon in conflict and other races oppressed by Saxon wrongs, waiting till they can be the dictators and masters of the sullen power, and he, making for himself domains and empires beyond his control, sinking under the burthen, and not daring to retract or recede until the resistance is overwhelming. The danger of the Keltic race lies in irritability and sudden action without due forethought, under excitement or impulse. This controlled, the Kelt, under fostering influence of knowledge, is equal to hold his own with any rival in race. The hope of all advanced scholars must be that these conflicts may be avoided. That men may learn to know each other racially as well as individually; that they may understand the natural requirements of each race and let those requirements have legitimate play; that while they do not assume to change the foundations of nature, in which they will most assuredly fail if they try, they learn of her how her courses may be so naturally diverted that they shall progress without injury to any one; that as the philosopher who defied not the lightning, nor attempted to stop it by his skill, gleaned from nature herself how to direct it at will, and by a mere line of wire to bring it harmlessly to the earth, its destination; so they, in dealing with vital forces, mental and physical, may let them all have their vent and reach their destinations, directed in their course in such a manner that not a chance of evil shall ensue; that they shall comprehend that the greatness of the world will be best realised when all races shall join to produce the greatness; that for this end all races have some peculiar gifts which will add to the whole; and, that, as in the orchestra each one has a part which, in itself perfectly distinct, combines with the rest to make up the harmonious result, so in the world whole creation yearns can be secured when every social part is brought by its best and wisest, and, according to its own conscience, holiest disposition, into communion and universal concord. I learn from what I have read and heard that you, who year by year for thirteen centuries past have met together at these historic festivals, meet in reverence and love of the dead from whom you sprang, the dead who continue to live through you, to think, to speak, to act by and through you whom they are. There be some that look upon such love, such reverence, such recognition of the great past as so much empty holiday; as adhesion to a language that has passed out of date, and to a custom that is worn out and decayed. I for one venture, with you, to dispute that criticism. If it be such a good thing to retain the dead monuments of the past that an Act of Parliament is being sought to secure that end, how much more precious must it be to maintain and retain those monuments of human history which have never died; a language which is as true and living to-day as it was when this festival first was established; a custom as living and a social ceremonial as dear to those of to-day as it was to the generations of the same race that have passed to their rest. Is a national poem so worthless that the oldest one of annual repetition should be swept away? I think not. But beyond this consideration, which a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries may of all men claim the privilege to support, there is another view which the social scholar ever keeps in mind and holds in heart, I mean the utilisation of such gatherings as this as aids to the fulfilment of that day of universal peace and brotherhood of nations, and common-wealth and common-health, which the purest and wisest of all ages have declared possible, and have magnified as the highest development of human effort and human felicity. The day when there shall no more be an infant of days nor an old man that hath not filled his days.' The day when it shall truly be said,— omnis feret omnia tellus, 6 all lands shall all things yield. If, keeping this day in hopeful sight, as sacredly as the perpetuation of your wonderful history, you shall let these festivals, year by year, be foretastes of that happy time; and, declaring your own liberty to maintain your individual life, shall learn to give equal liberty to all men of all races to maintain theirs; then this Eisteddfod shall remain, a pillar in history, marking from date to date the course of human progress, until the whole world has accepted for its motto your motto, God and all Goodness'- Duw a phob daioni.' THE 'COCK.' NE of the most interesting relics of Old London which the pro ONE of of improvement has hitherto spared to us the Cock,' in Fleet Street-is now at length destined to follow in the wake of its near neighbour Temple Bar, and make way for the changes required by the new Law Courts. The mandate has gone forth, and the proprietor only holds office until notice of removal is served upon him. Some months ago he quietly took down the sign which had so long stood over the portals of his famous tavern, and was as familiar an object to all frequenters of Fleet Street as the dome of St. Paul's. Even the waiters do not know where the mystic emblem is deposited; but they seem to have a firm faith that he will rise again and shine with newly burnished plumage over the doorway of some future hostelry safe for another century from the hands of either improvers or levellers. It will not, however, be the 'Old Cock,' and it will be many a long year before it gathers round itself any similar class of associations. The idea, indeed, may be only a fond expectation bred of a notion that the Cock' cannot die, which to persons saturated with its traditions seems a natural and not unamiable delusion. However, our business is with the past not the future. The bird of dawn has descended from his ancient perch, to save himself, perhaps, from being stolen. In a few days or weeks the gridiron, the mantelpiece, and the old oak tables will follow the sacred fowl, and the 'Cock' will be known no more. He may only wing his way across the street, or he may vanish out of sight altogether; but either way the spell will be broken, and living men will never again talk of the Cock,' except as a pleasant memory and a symbol of departed manners. 6 As a matter of accommodation, there will be no difficulty in supplying its place, though it will be a long time before the chops, the steaks, the Welsh rabbits, and the porter will seem so good anywhere else. Cynics and grumblers there are indeed who maintain that during the last ten years the 'Cock' has been falling off,' and that nothing there is as good as it used to be. My own experience does not confirm this depreciatory view in any essential particular; but even if there was any truth in it, the house possessed other attractions, which always seemed to keep it full to the last hour of its existence. There was of course the sentimental attraction-the genius loci though this, no doubt, was on the wane, except among a few enthusiasts like the present writer. In the next place the com whole creation yearns can be secured when every social part is brought by its best and wisest, and, according to its own conscience, holiest disposition, into communion and universal concord. I learn from what I have read and heard that you, who year by year for thirteen centuries past have met together at these historic festivals, meet in reverence and love of the dead from whom you sprang, the dead who continue to live through you, to think, to speak, to act by and through you whom they are. There be some that look upon such love, such reverence, such recognition of the great past as so much empty holiday; as adhesion to a language that has passed out of date, and to a custom that is worn out and decayed. I for one venture, with you, to dispute that criticism. If it be such a good thing to retain the dead monuments of the past that an Act of Parliament is being sought to secure that end, how much more precious must it be to maintain and retain those monuments of human history which have never died; a language which is as true and living to-day as it was when this festival first was established; a custom as living and a social ceremonial as dear to those of to-day as it was to the generations of the same race that have passed to their rest. Is a national poem so worthless that the oldest one of annual repetition should be swept away? I think not. But beyond this consideration, which a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries may of all men claim the privilege to support, there is another view which the social scholar ever keeps in mind and holds in heart, I mean the utilisation of such gatherings as this as aids to the fulfilment of that day of universal peace and brotherhood of nations, and common-wealth and common-health, which the purest and wisest of all ages have declared possible, and have magnified as the highest development of human effort and human felicity. The day when there shall no more be an infant of days nor an old man that hath not filled his days.' The day when it shall truly be said,— omnis feret omnia tellus, all lands shall all things yield. If, keeping this day in hopeful sight, as sacredly as the perpetuation of your wonderful history, you shall let these festivals, year by year, be foretastes of that happy time; and, declaring your own liberty to maintain your individual life, shall learn to give equal liberty to all men of all races to maintain theirs; then this Eisteddfod shall remain, a pillar in history, marking from date to date the course of human progress, until the whole world has accepted for its motto your motto, God and all Goodness'-' Duw a phob daioni.' ONE THE COCK.' NE of the most interesting relics of Old London which the progress of improvement has hitherto spared to us—the 'Cock,' in Fleet Street-is now at length destined to follow in the wake of its near neighbour Temple Bar, and make way for the changes required by the new Law Courts. The mandate has gone forth, and the proprietor only holds office until notice of removal is served upon him. Some months ago he quietly took down the sign which had so long stood over the portals of his famous tavern, and was as familiar an object to all frequenters of Fleet Street as the dome of St. Paul's. Even the waiters do not know where the mystic emblem is deposited; but they seem to have a firm faith that he will rise again and shine with newly burnished plumage over the doorway of some future hostelry safe for another century from the hands of either improvers or levellers. It will not, however, be the 'Old Cock,' and it will be many a long year before it gathers round itself any similar class of associations. The idea, indeed, may be only a fond expectation bred of a notion that the 'Cock' cannot die, which to persons saturated with its traditions seems a natural and not unamiable delusion. However, our business is with the past not the future. The bird of dawn has descended from his ancient perch, to save himself, perhaps, from being stolen. In a few days or weeks the gridiron, the mantelpiece, and the old oak tables will follow the sacred fowl, and the 6 Cock' will be known no more. He may only wing his way across the street, or he may vanish out of sight altogether; but either way the spell will be broken, and living men will never again talk of the 'Cock,' except as a pleasant memory and a symbol of departed manners. As a matter of accommodation, there will be no difficulty in supplying its place, though it will be a long time before the chops, the steaks, the Welsh rabbits, and the porter will seem so good anywhere else. Cynics and grumblers there are indeed who maintain that during the last ten years the 'Cock' has been 'falling off,' and that nothing there is as good as it used to be. My own experience does not confirm this depreciatory view in any essential particular; but even if there was any truth in it, the house possessed other attractions, which always seemed to keep it full to the last hour of its existence. There was of course the sentimental attraction-the genius loci-though this, no doubt, was on the wane, except among a few enthusiasts like the present writer. In the next place the com |