Our North Wales correspondents telegraph accounts of some extraordinary scenes in Wales, which are occurring on the mountains of the Cader Idris district.

It seems that for some years past a mysterious recluse has been living in a small cottage high up on the great slate-mountain of Llan-y-Van. This man was a Mr. Lluellyn Lys, a member of a very ancient Welsh family, and possessed of small private means. His method of life was peculiar. Imbued with a deeply mystical religious spirit, he lived very much as the preaching hermits of the early days of the Christian faith. Sometimes he would remain secluded for many days, or be found upon the summit of some lonely mountain praying aloud to God. At others he would go preaching through the villages, exhorting every one to repentance and a holy life, with marvellous eloquence and fervour.

In addition to this, the "Teacher," as this strange personality appears to have been known among the peasants and local miners, would sometimes hold vast meetings upon Sundays, high up in the hills. Thousands of people from far and near would gather together, and, standing upon a rock in their midst, Lluellyn Lys would speak with fiery exhortation, and lead those great musical choruses and hymns of praise for which the Celtic people are so famous.

A few weeks ago all those—and there seem to have been many thousands—who regarded the Teacher as their spiritual adviser and leader, became aware that he was entertaining a guest at his lonely mountain home, for the first time within public remembrance. A strange man had appeared at the little railway station in the valley, and by Mr. Lys' orders he was carried up the mountain by various of the Teacher's adherents and disciples. The man, who was known only by the name of Joseph, was evidently recovering from a severe illness. He remained in Lluellyn's lonely cottage for some time, and the two men were attended by an old widow lady whose name is Mrs. Price.

During the stranger's sojourn strange rumors were spread round the countryside. The Teacher had more than once referred to him in public as the "Master," and had hinted that he was about to conduct some great religious campaign, the precise nature of which was never clearly specified. It was also said, and said very generally, that some most extraordinary things were happening at the top of Moel Llan-y-Van.

Incredible as it may seem to-day, there are at the present moment hundreds of people in this part of Wales who confidently assert, and offer to prove, that Mr. Lluellyn Lys possessed the gift of healing. Dozens of cures are attributed to his agency. Be this as it may, the consensus of opinion not only credits the Teacher with something like miraculous power, but said that his strange visitor was possessed of even more wonderful attributes than he was.

A week ago Lluellyn Lys died.

It seems that, in mystical language, he had already foretold his decease. And now we come to the strange part of this excessively strange story.

Two days ago Lluellyn Lys was buried. But his was no ordinary burial; and, moreover, it is quite within the bounds of possibility that it may yet become the subject of an official inquiry.

When the news of the Teacher's decease spread over the surrounding country, from valley and mountain an enormous concourse of people assembled. The body—it is described as being like a statue of white marble—was taken from the cottage without a coffin and buried on the very highest point of the mountain Llan-y-Van—a spot where the dead preacher had been wont to pray.

It is understood that this was done by the dead man's wish and stipulation, though, probably quite contrary to law. No one, however, interfered—and interference would, of course, have been useless against several thousand people, who appeared to be in an ecstasy of grief, and who were obviously determined to carry out the wishes of their dead friend to the letter.

If at this point readers of the Daily Wire express incredulity at what follows we can only say that we guarantee the substantial accuracy of our report in the completest way.

After the actual interment of the corpse, and amid the wailing cries of the vast multitude of mourners, a man mounted the cairn of boulders which forms the highest part of the mountain—the exact summit, so to speak.

Immediately the sounds of mourning were hushed, as if at the beat of a conductor's bÂton.

Our correspondents describe the scene as wonderfully impressive and without parallel in their very varied experience.

It was a cloudy morning, and somewhat chill in those high places. Yet a beam of sunlight, white and sudden, fell upon the tall figure upon the cairn. Every one could see the man quite distinctly; every one knew that this was the stranger known as Joseph, who had been the companion of Lluellyn Lys during the last weeks of his life.

The sudden silence was perhaps due to the fact of this universal knowledge, but equally, perhaps, to another and extraordinary fact.

Joseph in appearance resembles the traditional pictures of the Christ in an astounding manner. It seems almost irreverent to write these words. But they are written with no such intention. This man, whoever he may be—charlatan and impostor, or sincere saint and reformer of our own day—is the living, walking image of that idea which all the world has of Him who died upon the Cross!

The words came; not very many, neither mystical nor obscure, but plain statements of intention. Yet the voice hushed that vast multitude of people as if with a magician's wand. Deep and clear, full of a music that our correspondents say no orator of our day can compass, a voice that goes straight to the heart—so, we are informed, was the voice of this man Joseph.

The substance of his speech was startling—an actual shorthand report of the words will be found upon another page:

This man, call him what you will, believes that he has a Divine mission to come to London, that he may warn it of its sins and bring its inhabitants to the foot of the Cross.

With a band of disciples—we must use the word—he is even now speeding towards the metropolis. A dozen or more people are with him, and it is also said that the sister of the late Teacher, a very beautiful girl, who was formerly a hospital nurse, has joined the little band of fanatics. One thing is quite certain. London is on the eve of a new and most extraordinary sensation.