terriers
of the "Tiny" family; that associations should be encouraged in the
rural parts of England for the promotion of rat-catching in all its
branches; that the bodies of the vermin be sold for manure; and lastly,
that rewards be given to the greatest killers.

Literature has, from first to last, been strengthened by recruits from
nearly every class; but till now we know of no volunteer who has
enlisted under her banner from the ranks of rat-catching. We know not if
the publication that has afforded a text for this article will
effectually augment the exterminators of the rat-tribe; but this is
certain, that, rat-killer though its writer be, he has produced between
forty and fifty pages, in which, though there may be much comical
exaggeration, there are, nevertheless, many curious facts and
suggestions for abating one of the greatest animal nuisances that have
infested our homes and fields, since the days when an English king
levied tribute of wolves' heads upon our brethren of Wales.

THE BROKEN HEART; OR, THE WELL OF PEN-MORFA.

A WELSH TALE.

IN TWO CHAPTERS.--CHAPTER I.

Of a hundred travelers who spend a night at Tre-Madoc, in North Wales,
there is not one, perhaps, who goes to the neighboring village of
Pen-Morfa. The new town, built by Mr. Maddocks, Shelley's friend, has
taken away all the importance of the ancient village--formerly, as its
name imports, "the head of the marsh;" that marsh which Mr. Maddocks
drained and dyked, and reclaimed from the Traeth Mawr, till Pen-Morfa,
against the walls of whose cottages the winter tides lashed in former
days, has come to stand high and dry, three miles from the sea, on a
disused road to Caernarvon. I do not think there has been a new cottage
built in Pen-Morfa this hundred years; and many an old one has dates in
some obscure corner which tell of the fifteenth century. The joists of
timber, where they meet overhead, are blackened with the smoke of
centuries. There is one large room, round which the beds are built like
cupboards, with wooden doors to open and shut; somewhat in the old
Scotch fashion, I imagine: and below the bed (at least, in one instance
I can testify that this was the case, and I was told it was not
uncommon), is a great wide wooden drawer, which contained the oat-cake
baked for some months' consumption by the family. They call the
promontory of Llyn (the point at the end of Caernarvonshire), _Welsh_
Wales; I think they might call Pen-M