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Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, April 03, 1887, Image 12

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12
STROLL OYER THE BRIDGE
A MILK ANI> ONE QUABTEK
t'BOU ENTRANCE TO EXIT.
Bow th* Human Tide RmhPi-Other
Fakir* Thu Thoao In Wall Street
’“Be Them Pipe* Holier?”—Music—
Chunk* of Color.
From the Seio York Fvtnino Sun.
Tbe human tide was at its Hood. The
main stream swirled down l’ark row, but
across City Hall Park ran vagrant con
tributory brooks, and from each side
street there trickled a rivulet. The cur
rent was dammed for a moment at the
entrance to the bridge roadway by a big
truck—which, in its turn, was roundly
damned —and then the tide swept on
over the stones, up the steps, upon the
big bridge. Just here the stream divided.
Tne larger portion poured up-stairs to the
cars, but tbe more sensible minority rip
pled around to the promenade.
Between 1:30 and 6:30 last night 3,784
people passed either a cent or a ticket
through the window to the croupier, and
walked out upon the finest promenade in
America. Of these 2,738 were men,
among whom canes and high hats were
not Infrequent, and the balance wore bon
nets. ’ Iwas a motley crowd, but a thor
oughly New York one. A little man
with a harsh cougli and a big ulster col
lar concealing his ears; a very tall man
witn a ruby nose and purple rivulets in
his face; another who took a pinch of
suuti and sneezed; then three coquet
tish girls, who tripped along as sprightly
as a bevy of quail. Then a rosebud in a
blue dress and a red-ridinghuod, and
whose forehead was partly concealed by
corn-colored hair, led by a maternal
baud.
“Is it very far to the other side, mam
ma ?”
“Yes, dear, it’s a long walk; but if you
gettirtd Pll carry you.”
The little feet, “so small that both
might nestle in onecaressing hand,” pat
tered out upon the big bridge in the gatb
jring twilight.
A railroad contractor In charge ot
eighteen laborers, whom he was taking to
a Brooklyn boarding house, stopped his
gang and collected a cent from eaoh man.
l'ben he went to the ticket agent and
bought twenty-five tickeis for be. The
contractor distributed tickets among tbe
hirelings, who meekly deposited them as
they passed through, and the contractor
realized 13c., his own ticket, aud had six
tickets tor future use. There are other
lakirs than those in Wall sireet.
But now came bank i.lz, as she is
known by tbe bridge employes. She shot
along with Amazonian strides, and did
the mile and one-quarter between the en
trance and ilie exit in fourteen uiiuutes.
Then there came an oid woman who is
suspected or lieiug the Mrs. Cunningham
who was associated with the famous Rur
ffell murder case. Her peculiarity is
shoving policemen. She never loses au
opportunity to push oue of these blue
coated locust wleiders, and goes 10 ieet
out of her way to do so. They came in
pairs, they came iu crowds, these hoalth
seekiug and economical pedestrians, aud
toe feltctric lights were lit to show them
the way.
There are many strangers on the big
bridge every day, and they ask some very
tunny questions.
“How does tbe cable work ?”
“Well, you see them little wheels?
They’re worked by machinery, an’ tbe
cable bein’tied together in th’ middle,
that makes the whole thing go. Sec?”
“Je*’ ez I tho’t. But how did they
fasten them long ropes up to the big
Pipe?”
“Ob, they did that by hydroylio pres
sure.”
“Jes’ ez l tho’t. Them big pipes!
How did they get them on top o’ teem
pillers?”
“They rowed ’em over the river in a
row boat and h’isted ’em up with a block
an’ tackle.”
Jes’ez 1 tho’t. Must hev’ bin a big
block.”
“’Twas. Bigger’n a barn door.”
“Be them big pipes solid Or holler?”
“Holler, of course. Ye see, they’re
nsed for holdln’ up the bridge and lor
supplying Brooklyn folks with water.
’Cause they’ve got tbo oceau ou one side
an? the East river on tho other.”
l'Ue answer came slowly. Th*' “Jos’
ez 1 tho’t” was rather incredulous, but it
came nevertheless.
The blind lead the blind out upon the
bridge sometimes, as for instance:
“Ye see that’ere i’land off there (poinf
ing to (Jovernor’s Island) well, ihat’s
Bb ckweli’s island, an’ that littls hack
thing on tne end is tbe prison.”
“That ’tie Baituoiomew statue must
be 40 fuot high!”
“H’m,” contemptuously; “it’s 56 foot
high- 1 seen tn’ Aggers in tii’ ulma
nac. ”
“Does them ’ere boats go across th’
ocean?” (alluding to one of the Mallory
steamers lying at its piers,)
“Cert, ler sure they d,>. They burn
fourteen ton o’ coal, too. That’s "more’n
you’d burn iu your hickory stove iu four
years.”
“Now, 1 want to know I”
But tbe bridge is not lacking iu drama.
Not long since, late one dark nlgUt, a pe
destrian was coming from the Brooklyn
sine, l'he watchman saw him from ihe
lower. Suddenly he started ou a run, and
shouted: “Police! police!” Thinking
tome foul play had heeu going on, the
watchman drew bis club. Bnthedidn’t
use it, for he saw oy the man's staring
eyeballs aud pallid lace that he was mad
with fear.
“Didn’t you see them?” he panted.
•‘They’ve been running on that iron
■.aork. One ol them jumped down, and
ah|pped me on tne shoulder and said:
'ttforge Brown, run!’ An’ you belcher
Ilfs 1 did run.”
‘the watciimaii took him in his little
--Unloose and tried to calm him. He
, kutt’.ly gamed control of himself until tne
yravebman left him to make his round.
D his return ue found the poor fellow
Mauobiug in the corner and pointing bis
Making finger at an Imaginary scene ou
the floor.
p ♦ H>on’t you see ’em plavin’ pool over
imv ?”
•Tj|o, he didn't see 'em playing poo], and
he passed his patient, wno was suffering
from tbe James Jambs, along to the first
policeman, who in turn passed him to tho
next, and so on until us was safely land
ed iu Brooklyn.
“Cold! I should say so. Why, during
the past winter 1 have taken at least
twouly in here whose noses were tipped
with white, and rubbed them with snow.
Home night’s when there’s a bit of a gale
blowing, the wind draws through be
tween these tower# like tho breath of
destruction. I’ve seen women, when
they came up tne stairs and swung
tound under the arch, get caught by tho
wind and sailed along like a balloon and
slatted up close to the railing like a leaf
up against a fence. Aud they stuck
there, too, until we helped them to get
away.”
Then, 100, the bridge, being suob a !
prominent thoroughfare, has lie com pie- I
went ol drunken men. A curious effect I
Is produced by tne electric lights. They
throw shadows ot tbe bridge suspenders |
across the roadway that look very ina- |
terlal to a slightly blurred vision. At the
uncanny hour of 8 a. m. a orotninent
Stttzen of Brooklyn, who was frying
• sinljr to ol>*y the'iTlptural injunction
to strengthen his feeble knees, encoun
tered these unsubstantial obstructions,
and lifted his kueus i wo ieet high in order
to step over them. But they seemed enti
les*, and after working for ten minutes
and covering only 20 leet, he sat down
against tbe railing, covered with persp
istion.andsaid:
off n
! The other day 300 pedestrians stopped I
I near one of tUe" towers to watch an airy j
j nothing, ll was a lady’s veil. Tho un
| gallant wind bud torn it from her face ,
i and carried it up near the top of the
! tower. Then a contrary gust waited it
back again, and it floated almost down to {
its owner’s outstretched bund. .) list as a
smile ol possession began to dimple her ;
lace the spirits of the air lilted it again, j
and it faded away and melted Into the
clouds.
The facility with which the cars are
handled on the big bridge is the wonder
of men from all parts of the country, wbo
come to this city lor the sole purpose of
waiching 550 people carried over every
half minute during the rush hours.
Fainting women are common in the
cars, but they are always takeu good
care of. Occasionally a Salvation Army
man breaks in upon the regulations by
exhorting and singing, but Mr. lloaglaml
always gags those little demonstration#
by a timely allusion to the station house.
The cars make an average of 2,745 miles
daily.
At 7 o’clock last night the wind blew
through the New York entrance to the
bridge as though it came iresh from
Greenland’s icy mountains. The great
towers loomed up against the sky like the
entrance to some gigantic Delphic tem
ple with tho Hlar-spnnkled heaven lor a
roof, and the wiud making leolian music
through the wire-latticed walls. A mile
away, up the F,ast river, shone tde col
ored magic lanterns of Williamsburgh’s
lairy palaces. Above the northeast hori
zon there was a faint red glow, like that
made by a prairie fire, while below rolled
the blackriver, reflecting in its shitting
currents gleaming chunks of amethyst
aud crimson light.
AN HEIR OK TURNER.
A House Painter of Camden an Eng
lish Lord lor Thirty Minutes.
From the Mobile Register.
A telegram from Camden, Ala., printed
Sunday morning, announced the death,
by his own hand, o! Samuel Tep
per, an old and respected cilizun of that
place. The deceased had a most eventful
history.
He came to Camden in the forties and
plied his vooatiou of house painter. He
was a man of the people in every sense,
worked hard wnen he bad anything to do,
and drank hard in between times.
Whisky promised to get the better of
him, but about 1850 a temperance
movement struck Camden and hit
Samuel Tapper so hard that he stopped
drinking.
In real jfood'romanees the fairy comes
iu at this point and showers fame and for
tune upou the mau ol resolution, but here
is an exception. Tepper stopped drink
ing and became a good citizen, but no
fame came along anil Uedkl not get rich.
In tact fie had hard trouble to get enough
to eat, and tbe tight between him aud
poverty was carried on without any
change for more than twenty-live years.
He was a married man and had two
daughters. One has married, while the
other remains single. His wife died some
years ago.
About 1873 Mr. Godfrey Blnoh, then
traveling lor Messrs. Lemkauf A Strauss,
of this city, read in a New York paper an
advertisement asking lor information con
cerning Samuel Tepper, who left England
some flkrty years belore, and who would
hear of something to his advantage it be
would communicate with so-and-so, at
torneys, etc., London, England. About
the same time Mr. Jacob Weiss, also of
this city, read the same inquiry, aud botn
these gentlemen, iu the order named, pro
ceeded to tell Mr. Tepper that he was
wanted in England.
Then followed oorrespondenoe, the re
sult ol which was that Mr. Tepper pro
ceeded to New York and took the steamer
for Loudon. In the world’s metropolis he
learned that he was hotr, through the
death of bis brother, to a portion ot thu
estate of the late Joseph Mallard WflJiAm
Turner,
THK FAMOUS ENGLISH LANDSCAPE
ARTIST,
who died in 1851. The greater part of the
estate, consisting ot many paintings was
already by will the property of tbe Eng
lish government, but there remained real
and personal property of great value, aud
u partition among the heirs had been or
dered. In this proceeding, Tepper had
been advertised ior, and he arrived iu
time to teceivo some SIOO,OOO worth of
property. He did not care to remain in
England, and he had no lanoy for living
Ou the lauded estate, so he resolved to
transler his lands to the other relatives
and take solid cash in exchange.
it seems that included iu ihe estate
was a lot or parcel ol land that conferred
upon its owner a title of nobility, but
Tepper was entirely ignorant oi the fact,
until the barrister who was carrying out
the legal proceedings of the transler be
gan calling him, “My Lord.”
“Ou, let up on that,” exclaimed Tepper.
“We don’t have that sort of foolishness in
Amsrica.”
The lawyer insisted, however, that the
title was a necessary part ol the proceed
ings.
“Would My Lord be so kind as to put
his huger there?” said the obsequious
barrister, Indicating the house painter
from Cjimdeti, Ala., was to touch the
end of the penholder while the signa
ture was appended to the deed of
transfer,
“My Lord” condescended to put his
finger upon the peu as requested.
“That’ll do, Tepper!” said the barrister,
dryly, and his lordship relapsed instan
taneously Into his previous condition ol
republican simplicity.
Mr. Tepper made light of the matter of
course, but was ever afterwards rather
fond of telling how, once in his life, he
was
FOR HALF AN HOCK A LORD.
The transient dignity aid not affect his
manuers or character iu the least, how
ever. lie was a plain man, loved quiet,
had worked hard and know that in peace
was the only pleasure. He came back
homo with a bag stuffed lull of money,
lie brought also a number of steel plates
of engravings of Turner’s paintings, and,
it is said, several of the paintings also,
all of which are at Camden. Mr. Tepper
did not care for such tilings, however*
Ho said: ‘‘Yes, there were a lot of paint
ings over there, bull have no eyo for
them.”
After his return to Camden he exhibited
a generous spirit. He lent his money
freely to those who had befriended him,
and encouraged young men in industry.
He went into business himself with Mr.
iieury Caster, but his health soon began
tailing him, and he drew out. His tastes
were simple. By long habit he became
of a saving disposition, so far as ntmselt
was concerned, and he spent very little
mouey lor his own comfort. Jt is believed
that in spite of the large sums he gave
awav and lost through kindness, he man
aged to save as much as tbe original \ ulue
oi his Inheritance. It is known that ho
has $50,000 invested in Uuiled Matos
bonds, deposited in a bank here in Mobile,
and that he has other investments in aud
around Camden. The life he led had for i
many years been perfectly sober, upright '
and good, and he deserved the title be- 1
stowed Ufion him in the special telegram,
“respected citizen.”
He lias been an invalid for some time, i
and Is saul to barn suffered from soften-'
ing ol the brain. Hu was doubtless not!
Uliusulf when lie fired the pistol ball Into
his lorehend
1 II 4va linen Afflicted
With an Affection of the Throat from
childhood, caused by diphtheria, and have
used various remedies, but have never i
nund anything equal to BitOWN’l
Bronchial tkociiks.- //••, u. M. A', j
? /'million, I'iktMin, Ay. Quid only m |
bom*.
SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SDN DAY. APRIL 3. 1887—TWELVE PAGES.
TIIK CHAMPION’S BELT.
TROPHIES WHICH HIVE GIR
DLED GREAT GLADIATORS.
How Golden Bull* Cauis to be a Sign of
Supremacy and the Championship
- John L. Sullivan’s Circle of .Jewel*.
From the AY >c York S'ar,
The proposition to present to John L.
Sullivan a belt, which shall be emblem
atical of the world’s championship at
sparring or prize fighting, bring# to mind
some of the trophies which have been
given to great athlete# who have lived in
the long ago. There have been emblems
which represented nothing more than the
personal admiration for the recipient, and
in one or two instances the athlete has
made himself a present of tbe trophy,
which was supposed to carry with it the
title oi champion of somewhere or tho
other.
I’ugilistio history shows that many
belts have been a warded as marks of ap
preciation ol certain men’s prowess or
pluck, while other guerdons have been
given as a sort of badge, which should
designate who was the real champion or
head of the profession. Unfortunately
Fierce Egan is silent on the value of these
belts, so that it is purely a matter ot con
jecture as to what they were wn th
The first mention of a belt as symboli
cal of tne boxing championship was made
to Thomas Lribb, who flourished in the
early part of the preseut century. Cribh’s
belt being tbe first was uecessarily ot the
admiration order. It came from tbe no.
bilily and some wealthy admirers, among
whom were Gentleman Jackson, himself
a retired champion, aud George 111. in
addition to this belt Tom Cribb was pre
sented with many other tokens of admira
tion, but tbe greatest honor ever shown
this British pugilist was when he was
made a page at the coronation of George
IV., July 10.1821. Cribb and Tom spring,
a latter-day champion, were the guards
at tho entrance of Westmin-ter Hall.
One of tne staunchest friends of Tom
Cribb was Lord Gwydys, who gave adin
ner lo tne pugilists and then presented
them with gold medals. One oi tne his
torical thingsconnected with Tom Cribb’s
belt was that it was the outcome of his
international Dattie with Thomas Moli
ticaux, an American negro wno went to
England to no battle with Cribb. How
the American was treated is a matter ol
opinion. The English authorities say that
he was outfought, but some eye-witnesses
are outspoken in their opinion that Moli
neaux aid not receive lair play.
So much did the English people think
of Cribb that they erected a monument to
him in Woolwich churcnyard. It is a lion
standing erect on a rock, with his pawou
an urn. The lion is supposed to be griev
ing over the ashes of a British hero.
Tom Spring, who was a pupil of Cribb
and followed him, was the recipient of
many cups, but no belt was presented to
Spring, who many claim was the founder
oi the real scientific style of boxing. He
came from a first-class family and was
far better educated than most athletes of
his time.
The next belt that “Fistiana” treats of
was that which was presented to Jbin
Ward, whose fighting career was between
the years 1824 and 1835. This athlete be
gan under very bud tutelage, and one of
his earliest fights was a swindle. Ward
having sold out to the oppositiou. This
almost euded his career us a pugilist, but
he finally fought his way to the front, and
by defeating every one redeemed bis lost
prestige and so endeared himself to the
lovers of fair play that he was deemed
worthy of a champion’s belt.
In addition to his pugilistic talent Ward
was an artist ot no mean calibre, aud
many of his pictures were exhibited in
the Engilkh exhibitions. The picture
widen made him most famous is the bat
tle between Tom Sayers aud John C. Hee
nan at Farnborough twenty-seven year#
ago. Ward lived to a good old age (80),
but he died in straitened circumstances
and was an inmate ot the Licensed Vic
tualed’ Asylum in London at tbe time of
his demise. Miss Eleanor Ward, a
daughter of Jem W ard, made a name in
the musical world. Sne was a pupil of
Sir. Jules Benedict and was said to have
been a splendid pianiste.
The belt given to Jem Ward was his
own property when he retired from the
I ring, but the old war horse baDded it to
William Thompson ( Bendigo), wfco was
a champion after Ward had retired.
Thompson flourished between the years
1835 and 1845. Oue of the strangest things
connected witn this atnlete’s lile was
that ho was ono of three children at a
birth, and as twins and triplets are sup
posed to be the embodifieaiion ol weak
ness, he was a living refutation to this an
cient saw, as Win. Thompson was a most
powerful and symmetrically built man.
lie came from a good family and it is said
was educated for the ministry. Why he
was called “Bendigo” no one seems to
know exactly, but many claim that it
was because he was so supple iu his body
and limbs that he could bend in any shape
he desired.
This elasticity cost him one or two
lights, as bis shifty style in getting down
j to avoid punishment caused his disquali
; tioaiion ou more mail one occasion. Ha
1 'Mis a very scientific pugilist, but did uot
I like to get hurt or have his beauty spoiled.
! Alter fighting all tbe great pugilists ol
! bis day Thompson retired and really
j joined the church, doing good service
| among the tough east euders of Loudon.
| His death was brought about by a sad
! accident. He fell down the stairs of his
[ own house, breaking three ribs. Tuolong
I splinter of one of them penetrated one oi
i t hompson’s lungs. Wnat became of this
; champion’s bell is not known,
j The next championship trophy giveu to
I the loading pugilist ol his time was a sub
j scription belt presented to Nicholas w ard,
! a brother of Janies Ward, already spoken
! about. This was the first iraiisiorable
j belt ever made, and mativ claim that it is
| the one now in the possession of Jem M ace •
but this is a mistake, Nick Waid’scluim
to a niche iu the line of belt holders is at
best a flimsy one, but as he was a cham
pion be cannot be passed over. Many
think that he was deficient iu the most
essential qualifications ol a prize lighter—
namely, pluck.
The belt which Tom Sayers won when
ho defeated William JVrry, the Tipton
Slasher, is said to nave been anew trophy
altogether, and it was destined to become
tile most celebrated tiling of its kind ever
seen. Sayers kept turn belt for a long
while, but the outcome ni hi# light with
Joan O. lieenati caused him to part with
the trophy. Those wno tollow up pugi
listic matters will doubtless remember
that this fight ended in a draw, and us
the referee’s decision made one man as
good as the other each was entitled to a
share of tho belt. It was proposed to cut
the belt in two and join two new halves
to it, so that each combatant should hav i
hall of the trophy. Then it was proposed
tn make two now lao similes of the dis
puted belt and give each man a copy of
tho prize. This was partly done. The old
belt was taken away and subscriptions
started to give Sayers und lleenao a belt.
The British pugilist got bis. but poor
lloonan, being an American, was do
jrauded ot nu prize?.
Pu ■ old b dt, w:i# put up for competition
and tiio llrst pair of boxers to try for it
wore Sun Mur-'(tho Slalybridge infant)
and Toni I’addock. Hurst was a tall,
powerful young athlete, who hud made a
great reputation as a wrestler, while
l’addock. tnouzh at one timo a splendid
boxer, was a poor, broken down old man.
11 li >Hi won Ons licit out l imn gave It up
i "in dae. , who. though holding It now.
nan Und it Uikoti (rout Inin on #.• 'oral on
caslon*. The first to wrest It iroin Msou
was Tom King, whulu turn naff lo give it
back to Mail, it was pul up lor com pa-
tins n id men Jos
, Auiuis.a aaivtivd Auuiun ilaisdsu tel
the trophy. Mace again came on the
scene and got th# holt by default, but as
he and Joe Goss fought a draw for the
emblem it was again put up for competi
tion. Worraald again claimed the belt,
basing bis claim on tne forfeit received
from Ned O’Baldwin (the Irish Giant).
Mace finally got hold of the belt and still
holds ii, as he really was the champion
from 1861 to 1872.
Bpeaking ot Jlace calls to mind that he
has been the recipient of more valuable
t'ophie# than any other boxer that ever
lived. Some years ago Mr. Wyndbain
gave tbe champion boxer a gold cup val
ued at 500 guineas, and several of Mace’s
admirers have presented him with val
uaole belts, which now form his stock in
trade.
AH these belts and trophies will seem
insignificant wnen the Sullivan belt is
finished and presented. It is proposed to
put SIO,OOO into this emblem, which will
be a mass of precious stones and gold.
Rounds of gold, not ounces, will be used,
and at least sixtv carats of jowels will bo
required to complete I ue work, which will
take three months to finish.
HOW GOOD SWIMMERS DO IT.
Miss Beckwith anil Her Brother
Tell oT Their Aquatic Triumphs.
From the Few York IP /riot.
Clang! clang! from the ball at the side
of the ring, and away scamper the gayly
clad tumblers and riders past the high
and mighty master of cercmones. Down
they rush to the dark lane that leads to
that strange country under the amphithe
atre in Madisou Square Garden. An ora
tor wbo could give old Stentor points and
beat him at a canter, climbs up on wnat
is left of tbo wooden stage and announces
the champion swimmers of tbe world.
Out they come!—a lair-faeea, brown
haired young man. leading a lair-faced,
ruddy-cheeked young woman whose wavy
brown hair ripples down over broad
-houlders. They are Willie and Agnes
Beckwith, brother and sister, and in more
than 200 races they have beaten every
body wbo claimed lo be the boss water
traveler. An exhibition of swimming is
anew tiling in tbe circus line, and the
thousands In the solid banks of seats eye
the pair closely as they enme lorward.
Agnes drops her long wrap of bronze
plush into the hands of an attendant, and
then the thousands gaz“ admiringly on a
full and graceful muscular development
such as few daughters of Eve ever at
tain. Clad in tight-fitting white stockinet
iron? neck to foot, hampered only bv a
brief tract of red silk jacket and trunks,
every muscle of tjie girl lias full play, if
it were not lor this airy costume she
would find her work in the water air
thing but tbe fun she does. Willie is
trifle shorter and considerably lighter
than his sister. He does not weigh owr
126 pounds, but the way he sails ihrough
the water reminds you of a big hungry
salmon darting alter his hreaklast. NVitu
a splash that scuds little columns ol
pearlv drops heavenward both plunge
into the small lake of steam-neated
Croton that nestles in a wooden lank, 50
feet long, 16 wide and 1 deep. It is easy
to see by their antics that they would
sooner live in water than on land. To
demonstrate what a luxurious place ot
abode the water really is, Willie puts ou
a heavy suit of clothes, lights a cigar
find dives in. A wreatn of blue smoke
curling upward now and then shows
what a fine time he is having down be
low. and after a while up comes the dis
carded suit which the little man bus
plucked off in the depths. Then when
everv one begins to wonder whether
W lllie has turned fish and is going to stay
down torever, he bobs up serenely, still
puffing at his cigar.
Agues performs one feat that haß never
been seen before in this oountry. While
floating she* turns on either side and re
mains balanced there for a minute, or as
lung as she chooses, her shapely arms
curled above her head and her lace wear
ing an expression of perfect content. She
is wonderfully graceful in the water.
While tbe band plays a soft, dreamy air,
she waltzes prettily from end to end of
the inclosure. There is a strong spice of
humor in her makeup. When showing
how easy it is to rescue a struggling,
drowning man by grabbing him behind
the ears, she laughs heartily and checks
Willie’s mad plunges now and then by
quietly ducking him out of sight. When
she swims with hands and feet tied,
hardly a woman in tbe vast house
breathes, so great is tbe suspense.
Tho Beckwiths come of a swimming
family. Their father. Prof. Beckwith,
has taught more crowned heads how to
keep above water than you could count
in a day. They began to give publio exhi
bitions when they were 4 years old aud
have kept it up ever since. Ihe list,
which contaius a condensed record ot
Willie’s most famous matches, would till
just one oolumu and three-quarters, glv
ing only names, dates, distances and
places. Agnes leaped into tame as a
swimmer in her 14tu year by swimming
from London bridge to Greenwich, five
miles, in 1 hour and 7 minutes. In Sep
tember, 1880, she swam 100 hours In oue
week, taking all her meals andreadiug in
the water.
“Does it hurt us to swim so muoa?”
said Willie to an inquiring young man.
“Not a bit of it. Wny, unless we are in
hard training vve get heavier at It. Ag
gie was a slender slip of a girl when sne
began to swim, aud now she is as strong
as strong can be. 1 never felt better in
my life. By the way, 1 wish you’d tell
people that either one of us is ready and
willing to svnni any man in America
any distance for SI,OOO a side, or any part
of it.”
HOW DOES THE PARTRIDGE
DRUM ?
Ono Observer Thinks that lie Beats
tho Air with his Wings,
From St. Nicholas.
When l first came to Canada 1 found
there wore various opinions as to the
method of making the sound. One man,
who read ft great deal but rarely went
into the woods, said the sound was
produced by the bird’s voice. Some of the
hunter* told me that tho bird struck its
wings on tho log, ami others that it struck
them together over its back.
1 d'd not give much heed to tbe book
mail’s explanation, for ail tbs woodmen
laughed at ft. I soon learned to dis
credit also the idea that tbe bird
thumped the log with its wings, because,
whether il stood on a stump or a stone, a
rottou log or solid timber, the sound was
always the same. Lastly. I did not be
lieve that the wings were struck together
because when a pigeon or u rooster
strikes its wings together the sound is
always a sharp crack. At length, alter
watening the bird carefully, l came to the
conclusion that it drums hy beating the
air only.
it is not an easy matter to get sight of
a partridge when lie is drumming, but I
managed to do it by crawling on my
bands Hnd knees toward tile bird, lying
still while lie was quiet, ami only mov
ing forward when iie renewed hi# noisy
courtship; for it is to woo and win ids
male inat Blr Untied Grouse indulges in
ihuso musical exercises. in this way 1
contrived to came within £0 feet without
alannlu r bun. Through the abler thicket
1 could Just see bis shapely form strut
ting about lUe a turkey conk, then lor a
moment ue stood upright, witn his leath
ern lying closes suddenly Id# wings
flashed. nod at the same moment he
snmd looking about ns though nothing
bud happened; but presently came a
second flush and thump, anil other# fol
lowed at lessening intervals, until at List
tUe serenade rolled away like the gallop,
dig of horses or the rumbling pi ditauL
luuimMU.-* • mm s.*lM .*•..
SHOP GIRLS OF PARIS. |
AIISN kKUi H’B I*.\BT WORK AND
HOPES FOIL THE lUTUKF.
v
KtbliihlUß Homes Tint Will Save the
Friendlexs From Suicide and Worse
Than suicide—Experiences > ,Ue
Great French Capital.
From the Phil-idelphia Prd*.
Alias Ada Liogb, who lor the last eigh
teen years has been a mother and sister
to the homeless and friendless English
aud American girls in Paris, spoke at the
Church oi the Saviour.Thirty-eigbtb street
above Chestnut, last night of her past
work and of her plans for the tuture.
Aliss Leigh is a kindly-laced English
woman, with a solt, low voice capable of
giving great dramatic force to the simple,
straightforward story she has come to
this country to tell.
When the Rev. Robert C. Matlack had
introduced her she seated herself in a
chair on the platform, folded her hands,
and, -showing lull confidence iu her pow
ers oi interesting her hearers, begun her
story iu a quiet, conversational tooe.
“The first thing 1 did when 1 went to
Pans,” said Miss Leigh, “was to do what
everyone else does, buy a pair ot gloves.
The girl who sold me the gloves spoke
English and I asked her if sue could di
rect me to an English church, Sue said
sue did not know of any such church and
that she had not been to one for four
mouths. 1 asked her to come to my rooms
on the billowing Sunday aiul bring some
of her English-speaking friends with uer.
in this way 1 gathered about mo a small
circle of Iriendless girls who had no other
place to goto that was not a place where
they could learn nothing good. I used to
send them little notes signed ‘one who
cares for you,’ and 1 think that signature
was more effective in bringing them to me
than any other part of the letter.
“(Jne day 1 overheard a girl in the
street sav to her companion: ‘Why
should 1 live any longer, no one cares.’
I touched her on the shoulder, and said:
‘l care.’ Tnat girl afterwards became
very dear to me, and when 1 left Paris
she gave me a franc wrapped in a piece
of paper, on which was written ‘To found
a home lor friendless girls in Paris.’
That rranc saved from the girl’s scanty
store was the nucleus of the fund which
founded our Alission Home. We s arted
with twelve beds, and in a short while in
creased it to thirty-six. Then the French
authorities interfered. We were doing
what was illegal iu two ways. We- did
uot own the Alission but renled it, and
wewereonlv allowed to have twenty
lour bed*. We started up again in a home
of our own where our accommodations
were very limited.
“line day lour girls, Americans, asked
me (or shelter, i bad only oue bed left
and the three went away disappointed.
I gave them each a card with the address
of the home written upon it and the hours
when we held service there. It was ail
l could do. In three days one of the cards
was brought to me by a gendarme. It
was stained and discolored by the waters
ot the Seine,and 1 learned that the girl
had sought a resting place in the river
which tempts so many. 1 had never
begged before that, but l saw that my
dutv called me to work for a larger house.
1 pledged myself to raise $50,000 for that
purpose, and my uame was accepted as
sufficient guarantee that it would be
forthcoming. Two months before the
time for the payment felldue I had $65,-
000.
“One day a little girl who served as an
artist’s model fainted, while she was pos
ing, Irom exhaustion and hunger. The
artist was an American and be sought
me out and put the case in my hands. 1
learnt then that these children were sold
lor from SSO to SIOO to artists as models. 1
went to the chief of the Frenob police and
asked him to have the girl arrested and
takeu from the Italian padrone who hired
her out and put in my care. ‘And for
what reason, Alademoiselle? he asked.
‘1 may save her soul, perhaps,’ 1 an
swered. ‘Listen tome,’ be said, striking
the desk with his fist. ‘ldo not believe in
souls, nor in God.nor in heaven,but 1 tell
you it is a crying wrong that you English
do not save these children’s bodies.’ 1
accept the rebuke, for X lelt that we de
served it.
“In a few days the police brought me
four children. ‘Shall we arrest any more?-
they asked. They ended in arresting
ninety, both English and American. One
day a ladv said to mo: ‘Tne place is
greatly crowded.’ ‘Yes;’ I replied, ‘1
would fill Al. Galignani’s villa, ;t 1 owned
it.’ The lady proved to be Al. Galigcam’s
secretary. She repeated my words to tbe
great publisher and in u week I received
an iuvitation to a garden party at his
villa. Wnen 1 entered his door X lound
all the people oi the neighborhood assem
bled In a circle. Al. Galignaui said sim
ply: ‘1 have asked you here to aocept this
house lor a home for American and En
glish children.’ The estate was worth
SBO,OOO and AX. Galignani endowed it- with
$15,000 a year. The Baroness do Roths
child built a school house adjoining for
SIO,OOO. M. Galienani was a Roman
Uatholic; the home iio founded is under
the auspices of the lVotestant Church.
Tbe Baiones de Rothschild is a .Jewess
and she built the school house. 1 have
now come to this country to ask you to
help an American woman who has given
me a house with $50,000 for a borne for
young men for which X am now trying to
collect Uio money to pay for the ground
on which it stands.
“There are more Americans than Eng
lish among the students in Fails, and
while we can send the English home at
the expense ol a few francs the Ameri
cans at present are without a place to
shelter them if they are sick. Over 900
young men b&ve sent mo here and have
told me to cable “Found” when l have
the money to give them their home. I>
not say, as they said in Culcago, ‘Let then:
starve,’ but remember those young men
are dying in hospitals alone, and are be
ing buried in paupers’ graves unrecog
nized. Tboy have noplace to go when
their work is dons but to tbe wine shop
or worse. It is an American woman who
gives half of this princely gift. Will you
not give tbe rest?’’
Mis* L'dgh will speak in several of our
churches during the week. She is at
aroint tho guest of the" F.t. Rev. Bishop
Stevens.
A • Little Gin’s Appeal to Secretary
Lamar.
R'./s.V ing tan Litter m the Cincinnati Snyui ■,
A little girl S years old. residing at Gordon,
Dak., ha* written the following letter to-•sec
retary Lamar. It was printed on a small
piere of paper with a lead pencil. In a style
peculiar only io children when they are wri'-
lug tnoir first letters. Every letter Is a capi
tal, and reads:
"Mr. Lemurs: Won't you please decide the
land cane that is in your office now. Ma
lias to work out. ami Atinnie is sick, and I
have to do the work. I am only s years old.
We ham't uo nioocy. and l.iste Muon is irving
to gel our claim. Aid Fiikncii.
‘■Ala want- to get sonic motley so we can
get some close and git a horse, ft I* awful
cold here at Alletioll, Dakota, and wc have to
burn hay, and can’t hardly keep warm.
Good by.
"Gordon, Dakota. An* Krknoh.”
The letter iu referred fu Commissioner
Spars*. *ad ivunl through the routine of the
land office, and an official letter was written
to tne girl I'llornnng h rthai the cum >d*-
mo tor had deeded the claim in favor of her
mother, hat an nppe tl had been made to th •
--oeietary of the Jnicnor, where it is now
pending. The littln g,rl wrote anoliier letter,
similar to her previous one, begging the com
missioner "to get Mr. Lemur* to desld ■ ma’
case. Ligu Mo'in," she says, “told ma that If
you detided in mu's favor ho would not give
her any more Irublile, but Lice Moon llose'
This letter was also answered, and the cor
respoudeuou sent to the secretary to burry
his action.
Mas. Gooiumiton says sho doesn't think
eases out
CAN IT BE POSSIBLE.
Alisa Abigail Stark Outdoes* All \
Previous SoiihihiiiD alisls.
From the T Mo Blade.
Abigail Stark, a young, prepossessing
girl of the Fiftt* war'd, is a somnambulist,
and a most thorough one at tuat. She has
been known to walk a distance of two
miles at a stretch without waking up, and
on one occasion she frightened asleigfc
lcad of young people, who were returning
late at night from a party, half out of j
their wits. It was some time before Aliss j
Abigail’s parents learned of their
daughter’s peculiarity, and ever after
they kept close watch of ber. Now, Aliss
Stark was courted by a young man from
the Third ward, John Derby, a likely
fellow, but for some reason be and the
old folks could not get along together,'
and the upshot of the matter was
that he was denied admission to
tho Stark mansion, a proceeding
which quite disgusted the youthful
lovers.
But they were not to be outnone so
easily, and from the time of tbe estrange
ment between the young man and the old
tolks the girl seemed to take a certain
lancy to an aunt who resides in Lower
Town. Strange to say, the coincidence
in time did not mamfestitself to the Sun k ,
elders, and they merely expressed de- j
light that their daughter should take
pleasure in visiting her aunt, who was ;
Air*. Stark’s favorite sister.
One night, while John and Abigail were
returning from a party, .John proposed
that thev should get married without, fur
ther delay. He said there was no pros
pect ot Abigail’s parents ever liking mm,
and so long as the olimax had to be
reached, he wanted to reach it by the
shortest way. lie did not believe in long
courtships. To all of which Abigail re
pled that it would be impossible for them
to get married without they eloped, for
her aunt would never sanction their mar
riage uuless her parents gave their con
sent.
“Let’s elope, then,” said John; “lam
heartily sick and tired of the suoterluge
which we are practicing upon jour pa
rents. Let us get married, and then, if
they do not care to see us, we can live
without them.”
Abigail besitaied before taking so im
portant a step. She wanted time to think
it over. Of course she expected to marry
bini, even if her parents dil object, but
the proposition was so sudden that she
would ask liftn to wait until tbe next even
ing for her answer,
“I have already engaged the minister,”
said John, a* be bade her farewell at the
gate, “and he promises to marry us, if he
has to get out ot bed at midnight to do
it.”
When he had left Abigail he walked
slowly uptown, picturing in his mind the
happy home bo would have with Abigail
as its mistress. The bright tire, the cozy
chair, the comlortable slippers, and all
the et ceteras that go to make up the pic
ture of a perfect home, came up betore
him. Suddenly it occurred to him that he
had promised io call upon his chum, who
lived near the aunt’s iesider.ee, and close
up a business matter of some importance.
Although it was late, heknwhis chum’s
penchant for late hours, and therefore
had no scruples.
He retraced his stops, and was about to
ring the bell of his friend’s house when
he happened to see a woman coining up
the street. The figure was so tamiiiar
that he involuntarily sought the side
walk. As the figure approaehe 1 the be
lief that it was Abigail became a cer
tainty, and he hastened forward to meet
her. He was not aware, so absorbed had
he been in making family pictures, that
one hour had passed since he bad lift
Abigail. In his impetuous way he had
but one thought, and that was "that Abi
gail had concluded to accept his proposi
tion and nad come out in the hope of over
taking him.
But he was surprised at her silence.
When be spoke to her she answered in
quite as endearing terms as he had used
in addressing bor; then she took his arm
and the two walked rapidly away. He
asked her it she bad really decided to
marry him that night, and he was sure
that she said yes. Anyway, he was so
overjoyed that he nearly forgot the way
to the minister’s. All was dark when
they got there, but a vigorous ringing
soon brought the divine to the front door.
John was not long in explaining the situa
tion, and tne minister soon had the front
room in ord-r for the oouple’s reception.
He also pressed his wile into' ser
vice as a witness, and in a very brhf
neriod tbe knot was tied aud John was
happv.
Abigail had answered al! questions
properly, and was apparently as happy as
John over the re*u.t. Sho had not with
drawn her veil during the ceremony, not
had John, in his raptures, tboiivht ot ask
ing her to do so. They decided that she
should return to her aunt’s bouse, and
remain there for a day or two, until the
tina! preparations should be’ made,
when they should go into their own
home.
When John left Abigail for the s*cor.rl
time that night he 1> It that he nc lon or
h"ld tbe uncertain position of a lover,
but that she was his wife by divine de
cree. Visions of the perl ct home, of the
comfortable slippers, cozy chair and
warm tire followed him home and became
a large part of his dreams when he drop
ped off. And all the next day they slid
occupied his thoughts. In ihe evening ne
was by Abigail’s side. His first words
were:
“My wije now, in spite of every
one.”
She looked at. him a* though she thought
hint crazy, “Your wile, John!” she ex
claimed. "But 1 have not accepted your
proposition yet. You presume too much,
sir,” and sho drew berself up iu a mock
defiant manner.
“You are a big tease,” said John,
“but I could scarcely believe my
senses.” .
“What are you talking about. Johnf”
looking at him seriously.”
“Why, our marriage!” replied he, also
serious.
“It seems to me that i aid dream some
thing about getting married,” said Abi
gnil.
“Dream about it! You atnazu tne. lr I
remember m ight, ’ we had all tho para
phernalia lor a genuine wedding,” said
John. “There was tne minister, his w ile
as a witness, and we two, who
were married. And here is the certifi
cate if you do not believe it,” and he
drew tbe precious document from tus
pocket.
Abigail was astounded. To think that
sin* lu.d been married wu'.bout being cog
nizant of it was too'much even lor tier
* trong ndnd, and she was more tfian bnif
inclined to cry. Then the ridiculous fea
ture occurred to her, and she was lor some
time in midair between laughing and cry.
ing. W hen she had calmed down and her
mind became settled Die true status of
affairs began to dawn upon bor. Hitherto
sho had never mentioned to John her
soniminibullstio escapades because she
bud been hall ashamed ol them, but now
that she was married she thought it ber
duty to explain.
bho told him nil about it, an and how on
tbe night lust he Lad lull her ul the gate
she hud eon<‘ to her room, and, being un
usually tired, Uad lain down upon id* i> <i
without undrensiuv, aud bad IhHhii
ualoep. Tho circumstances of the mar
riage nail all colon to m*r u a dream, and
whon she arose that morning she
bad riot given tue matter a second
thought. Hut now that ho bad recalled
tin* murrlago, atm remembered all the de
tails.
Thus the affair stands. John and AM.
gnil an* visiting frlltdl in tin- Wail
wliile the old gentleman in endeavoring
to find some means ot getting bis dungb
lei back- ’
gi’Piun’P 3roit KtUfti.
Every strain or cold
UU<l nearly prostrates you “*A
Ii § T §
EEsTTerns 3
Strengthens the DluHcles,
Steadies t?ie Nerrn
Enriches the Blood. Give* Now Vigor
Du. J. L. Myers, Fairfield, lowa, sav*: *
“ Brown’s Iron Bitters is the befit Iron medicinel
have known in iny ikJ years' pract ice. 1 have found it
specially beneficial in nervous or pilysical exhaustion
and in nil debilitating ailments that bear eoheavia
on tho#ystem. Use it lively in my own family”
Mil. W. F. Brown. 7 Main St., Covington K?
fuiys: “I was completely broken down in health anil
troubled with paiua in my back. Brown’s Ini
Bitters entirely restored me to health.”
Genuine hap above Trade Mark and crowed red] j Q £
on wrapper. Take no other. Made only by
BItOWxS CULMIi AL CO., BALTIMORE,Mi*
Capital Prize, $150,000.
“IT. do hereby certify that ire miner mu tu
arrangements for all the Monthly and Se
Annual Drawings of The Louisiana State Lot.
tery Compatif, and in person gnmage and con
trol the Drainings themselves, and that the sane
are conducted with honesty, fairness, and i,
good faith toward all parties, and we authoriit
the. Company to use this certificate, with fas.
similes of our signatures attached, in its attest,
tisements . .
COMMISSIONERS.
We the undersigned Banks and. Bankers to ill
pay all Prises drawn in The Louisiana Stats
Lotteries which may be presented at our coun
ters.
J. XX. OGLESBY, President liouisi.
ana National Bank.
PI “ • He l, Ai A, President Stats
National Bank.
A. BAIiDWIN, I’resident New Ol
leans National Bank.
CaRL KOU.N, Picsiueat Union Na
tional Bank.
UNPRECEDENTED ATTRACTION
Uuvkk Half a Million Distkibutzd!
Louisiana State Lottery Cos,
Incorporated in I*BB for 25 years i>y the Leg
islature for Educational and Charitable pur
]X>BCB —with a capital of $1,000,000 to which 9
reserve fund of over $460,000 has sinoe baea
added.
By an overwhelming popular vote its fran
chise whs made a part of the present State
Constitution adopted December 2d. A. D. 187$.
The. only Lolt- ry ever voted- on nisi endorsed
by the people of any state.
it never suolee or postpones.
ItsGraiul single Number Drawings
take jilace monthly, and the semi-
Annual Drawings regularly every
six months (Juue and .leceinorr.)
A SPLENDID OPPORTUNITY TO
WIN A FORTUNE. FOE K i H GRAND
DRAWING. CLASS D, IN THE ACADE
MY OF MUSIC. NEW ORLEANS
TUESDAY’, April 12. 1887—203(1
Monthly Drawing.
Capital Prize $150,000.
ftp~ NOTlCE.—Ticket* are Ten Dollan
only/ Halves, $5. Fifths, $2. Tenths, (1.
list of paizes.
JCAPITAL PRIZE OF *150,000 .. $150,001
1G RAND PRIZE OX' 5C.000 ... 50,000
IGRAND PRIZE OF 20,000 .. 20.000
ILAKIE PRIZES OF 10.000.... 20,000
OLARGh: PRIZES OF 8.000... 20,000
20PRIZES OF 1,000. .. 20,000
£0 “ 500... 25.000
100 3OO ... 80,000
200' “ 2CO ... 40,000
£OO “ 100 50,000
1,000 “ 50 50,000
APPROXIMATION TBtZlt*.
100 Approximation Prizes of S3OO s 3<| ,ojo
100 “ •• 200..- 20.000
100 “ “ 100 10.000
2,170 Prizes, amounting to— $5:5.100
Application for rates to clubs should o*
made only to the office of the Company la
New Orleans.
For further Information writo clearly, gw
ing full address. POSTAL NOTES. Kxpren
Money Orders, or New York Exchang* in
ordinary 'etter. Currency uy Kxiirc** .alinf
expense) addressed M. A DAUPHIN,
New Orleans, La..
Or M. A, DAUPHIN. Washington, D. 0*
Address Registered Letters to
NEW ORLEANS NATIONAL BANK,
New Orleans, La
REMEMBER
who an* in ehurge of the drawing, •* ? ,lH ‘
an tee of abho’ute fa lines * aiii inte/ritv,
the ehanecH are a 1 equal, ant tha
}><>tßi * > divine witai Humbert* will (IrHW
J*rtzi. All pari ipf, therefore, advertifilnij
guarantee Friao in this Lottery, or how■ j
out any other impossible inducement*
swindlere, aud only aim to deceive and 1
fraud the unwary.
SUtditXl.
ERRORS OF TOM
m _ * > Th* Worn] Curse of Iff*:
fW.-Y... . &*snarfsß
* Lost I’x.wrr.
if q w- riH/t Wfft
M'OI 01-.ui l *,
IVrfoctTLastlug Curb and Full View 1 ,
l-ffl I'liciigtl;. Potency i*cii V ‘ ~i rlc it
> ■: w Itmin and LVrve l’o*r ." r we 1
IjrtOOO. Wc. ut> only tliu wonucrfui
( RMi.'FK Mi'OICATLU ri'A-LV
Kn tlinuhiig. Gne**-worl(. 0 f l ! 'E|. ,ll |lSt
IMJsIIUK PIWIFK Hinder* 1 i tl .f*rVnw<i
rrv .If me I'lnenvcry, l.)t ol
1 mi; toms. Method mid Prl*** mail*•• f ‘.j
-i .•■■■ reev. O.nMiltation I M
C* * !01 !j ? MLDIOA
PENNYROYAL PILLS
“CHICHESTER’S ENGLISH-
Hie original nl Only f 1 , 0 "”,
■•s• wUUraM fUtUht*. Howawof worthfo
IMUxmi) LADIES. Ak !'“ r
ka m r pa
Wold by hroffuUU where. u „,tti4* f -
Ur’ i.MjclUn” I* omijf roof I’Hla. —-
TO“™MPN:SS^
s'• t 1 min ns foil iiari b-nlarfi *‘lT. V/u Mihhlb". bontt*
chars®. AcUroM froL LOFOVVLI£R.M^i„ u *
MANtegS
i <* rdimrni Ctiftlw. M *•* IL-■ y *

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