New York dispatch. [volume], February 10, 1867, Page 6, Image 6

About New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899

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6
THE SNOW QUEEN.
By C. E. C. v
* Itill a maiden cold as ice,
My heart was cold and hard as a stone j
All day long in a turret high
I sat and watched alona.
tfrom my turret loophole forth I gazed
Over a world that was white with snowj
I heeded not the dance and song
In the castle hall below.
There were gallant knights and ladies gay
In the lighted castle hall below;
They called me to join their revelry,
Nor recked if I came or no.
In their careless joy they called me down,
It mattered not if I came or no;
My hands were stiff and blue with cold.
As I gazed out over the snow.
My true love came with gentle eyes,
And looked through mine down into my heart;
That gaze was like the soft Spring sun,
. Which bids the snow depart.
He look’d straight down into my soul
With eyes so pensive, soft and fair;
Ho gazci into its deepest depths,
*
He took iny unresisting hand, ’
And led me down the turret stair,
Through the glittering throng in the castle ball,
To the Are that was blazing there.
He warm’d my frozen hands and feet
By the large hearth-stone, with its ruddy blaze;
The frost of my heart began to melt
In the light of his loving gaze.
Beloved I the wintry world of snow
Is changed to gladdest, brightest green;
The ice-bound rivers glitter and flow
Through the sunny woodland scens.
Dearest heart! thy love so true
Has thaw’d this heart of ice and stone;
This heart to all eternity
Will beat for thee alone.
SBK3a3Si33B2Ear2ES33ESraHnn
[Original.]
W (tow’
Bffl BE ffl IWSI.
BN CORONER XVIEEIA.M C. ROVER.
■ It was a sharp, biting cold day in the middle
of December, as myself and deputy sallied forth
from the office, on our way to attend to the
eases found upon our side of tho book, and
claiming our attendance and investigation.
But few pedestrians were on the streets, so
piercing cold was weather; and as we wrapped
our thick and comfortable overcoats about us,
wo instinctively started off at a rapid trot, to
keep up a warm circulation of blood in our
Veins.
Our cases, with the exception of one, were
not of an exceeding interesting character, and
that one, surrounded as it was by such painful
and lamentable circumstances, was well calcu
lated to awaken within tho heart the saddest
emotions of sorrow and sympathy. It was that
of the death of a young man about twenty-two
years of age, the only support and comfort of
an aged mother, and who had died, from the
history and evidence of the case, of acute
pleurisy.
It was about two o’clock in the afternoon
that we reached the place, in M strceLnoar
and a sad umi wretched' onsTtwas.
reaching the number of the street, we in
qriired of a decrepid, thinly clad old man, whom
Wo met coming from a dark alley, if ho knew of
a person being dead in the house. Without
paying, a word, and pausing, leaning on the
slender cane he depended on to steady his tot
tering limbs, while the chill Winter winds wore
tossing his silvery hairs in every direction, he
.. ..polntsd-ominmisly through the alley in the di
rection of the yard.
Tjeaving the old man, who turned to gaze
. after us with his filmy eyes, we entered the
■1 'dark-.passage, and soon found ourselves at tho
qnd of the alley and at the entrance of the
yard. It was extremely dirty and filthy, and
Bad be.en made the receptacle of every species
.of off if arid refuse matter, that in Summer-time
would, .have, .no doubt, yielded, notwithstand
ing. the hygienic endeavors of the Health Board,
■a-disgusting and fetid odor. The decaying and
dilapidated out-houses in this court-yard told
•too plainly of the character of tho occupants of
,_the miserable tenements found therein. The
..'■Xwiwa.s,rathpr a largo one, and at tho fur
thest end was a low two-story wooden build
■ tho gable end, as it might be, facing
us.- We hastily crossed the yard and passed
along tho front of the building to its extreme
eastern end, and came to a low and dismal en
trance; which' at this bitter and cold season of
tho year possessed no door or protection from
th3 cruel blast, that swept so relentlessly across
the.bteak space that intervened between it and
the front buildings. Entering this doorway, so
gloomy and silent, we came to a broken fl'ight
of stairs,- at the foot of which we found a,rudely
constructed door, and knocking gently, it was
sfrrn iy opened by an old and sickly-looking fe
male.
■ deputy “Who had preceded mo a few feet,
..'"isked'it it w?ib there where the dead person
lay .of whom we Were in search The poor
' ' 'and' seemingly heart-broken creature, as the
doctor informed' her, pointing to me, that I
was .the. coroner, burst into a flood of tears, and
invited us to enter, and in a moment we were
ushered.into lona of tfro apart-
ments it was'ever my sad fortune to visit dur
ing my term of office; so oold, and gloomy,
and cheerless;-and with not a single ray of com
fort. • it was a low-ceiling room. I should
Judge about' ten feet by eight in length and
breadth,- and' with the plastering tore off in
many places., . ..There was no mantle-shelf, or
■fire-place, nor closets as are usually met with
' ta • tKe-"homes. of. our, poorest citizens. The
floor of this room, or cell, as it might more
S'be called, and which was composed of
tin hemlock boards, rested upon the cold
solid ground, and at all seasons of tho year
could not tail to be damp and wet. In the cen
tre of this miserable abode, and which causes
the heart to sicken at the thought that it was
the abiding and resting place of human beings,
Stood a small, melancholy-looking, rust discol
di-Od-' stove, resting and supported upon four
piehes- of bfdkpn bricks—it having by ago and
hard usage, no doubt, long since lost its feet.
Bo small and diminutive was this comforter,
that it would-eiJareely hold a handful of coals,
-and-ai-the'time of our visit, rejoiced in no de
gree of warmth whatever. Its clumsily jointed
and fractured pipe was thrust into a holo in the
Wall, and where its smoke escaped to was a
matter.of much, conjecture to us. In a dark
corner of the . room was clumsily nailed up
against the begrimmed wall a broad, flat board,
and ranged upon the same was a scanty stock
of .cracked and dingy crockery, that, doubtless,
in the eyes of’its humble owner, possessed a
value not to'be despised by those situated in
the same unfortunate and impoverished cir
cumstances. No bread, or food of any kind,
.graced this humble shelf, and it betokened, in
unmistakable-...language, tho most extreme
poverty. .
As to furniture, there was none in the room,
if yre might except a broken old wooden rock
ing chair, a law,' greasy stool, and a finely gilt
Cane bottomed chair, that had been kindly be
stowed upon tho poor old widow, the occupant
of the premises, by a kind-hearted lady, as she
told . üß,'for the purpose of administering
through the 'kame a sweat to her poor son be
fore He diSd. -'..There was no bedstead or bed in
the room, that we could see, but a rude heap of
tattered quilts and rags were stowed away m a
corner; and which at night probably served as
■ K bed,"upon which those friendless creatures
lay, dreaming, perhaps, of happier days to
come, and with fervent, trembling lips thank
ing the Crea tor for the few and simple comforts
. they enjoyed. v . ''
Upon tliQ -eido of the room, near the door,
and unon’-a piece of plank that rested upon an
electable, lay the corpse, that of a young man,
twenty-two years of age, and carefully covered
by a long white sheet. We gently uncovered
the face, when our gaze rested upon features
that in life and health must have been very
handsome, but poverty, privations and suffer
ings had left many a sad mark there. Tho
hands were crossed upon the breast, resting
upon a soiled white shirt, closely pinned across
tho chest, painfully suggesting the probability
that that was to be hrs only shroua and wind
ing-sheet.
Leaving the body with many sad thoughts in
our hearts, we turned to the old woman who
had sank sobbing in tho rocking-chair, and en
deavored, by kind and soothing words, to
pacify her grief, and to learn the history of her
son’s death. It was sometime before she could
in any degree quiet herself, lamenting so ten
derly as she did the death of him who had for
so many years during her widowhood been her
hope and support. At length, drying her tears,
she began her simple story, and the recital of
which moved our hearts with the deepest feel
ings of pity and sympathy. Her manners and
address, although so meanly clad as she was,
with nought but a soiled and tattered dress
upon her, at once assured me she had seen
better days, and that the circumstances in
which' we found her, had not always been her
condition in life.
In early life she had married a gentleman of
good circumstances, and who, by mercantile
pursuits, had accumulated quite an easy for
tune for his family. At that time they resided
in one of the busy and thriving cities of Penn
sylvania. Four children blest their home, of
which the deceased was the youngest, and
every comfort and happiness that affectionate
parents could bestow upon them wore theirs.
At length temptation crossed the path of the
husbana, and in th© hopes of more enriching
himself, he, in a fatal hour, plunged recklessly
into wild and profitless speculations, which
Boon rendered him penniless and homeless
Those who had courted his favor, and who had
experienced much of his warm and’ gener
ous friendship now turned their backs upon
upon him in his sad hour of adversity, and
spurned him because of his misfortune and
poverty. His generous nature could not
longer brook the cold taunts heaped upon
him, as a bankrupt and a begger. Driven as
ho was by his cruel and unfeeling creditors
■ - 01 ? 1 h* s °ld homestead, where so many years
of domestic happiness had been spent by his
family, he gathered together the wreck of that
which was left to him, and in the far distant
nest caught once moro to gain a name for him
»elf, find a home for Iris wife and children, But
his struggles were in vain. Misfortune had
sapped his energies. Disappointments met
him at every turn, and dispirited and broken
hearted, he unwisely sought to forget his sor
rows in the intoxicating eup, and soonrelapsed
into.the incurable inebriate. For six long years
he indulged in intoxication, and during that
time saw death enter his humble homo and
bear to the silent tomb three of his loved ones.
Deeper and deeper did he sink into the mire of
degradation, until disease struck him down,
and after a short and painful illness, he was
laid beside his three children, leaving his wife a
widow, and the deceased an orphan at tne age
of fifteen years. From that day until the time
of his death, poor George had struggled faith
fully to support his mother. Youthful as he
was, he launched out into the busy world, meet
ing with but indifferent success. He conceived
no labor too hard for his tender hands, and no
Erivations. too great for hifa to suffer, so that
is poor mother might bo relieved from want
and dependence.
But the great strain upon hj3 constitution,
and the many hardships ho was compelled to
endure, after a laps q of a few years, dc|tioyed
the glow of hea]tj} upon - li’s Cheeks, and th'3
podr widow, with many painful apprpliQn jio.is,
noticed the visible jjecay that was sjirely and
slowly perfecting its work of destruction and
death. O, how m secret did she weep for her
poor boy, and what fprvent prayers did she send
up to the Throne of Grace, that ho might be
spafbd to her, to bless her in Lor old Age, and
to lay her gray half's in the silent grave I But
■ that boon was denied her. Employment failing
him in the western city, where he resided, and
scraping a few dollars together, he brought his
mother to New York in the hopes of even find
ing a situation in this groat commercial mart.
But how deceitful did he find tho prospect.
Poorly clad and dejected-looking, none would
give him employment, and after manv fruitless
days and weeks of wandering, he could only re
turn to his poor old mother at night, dispirited
and broken-hearted, for none would listen to the
sad tale of the stranger. At length, sleeping on
the damp floor, and, only upon a handful of rags,
and a scarcity of wholesome, nourishing food
soon rendered him weak and helpless, and he
equid no longer go abroad in search of work.
His mother, in her painful anxiety for his
health, immediately applied to a dispensary to
procure medical attendance and relief for him,
and hastened to her home with the medicine
she had procured. For many sleepless nights
did she watch tenderly over him, out nothing
would check the rapid advancement of tho dis
ease. Upon the day he died she had again
been to procure more medicine, and upon ar
riving at home again, to her dismay and grief,
found that he had grown much worse. No
food, no money in the houso, what was she
to do ?
She had heard of some kind ladies, who
were willing to aid and assist respectable pov
erty. She sought their residence, and, telling
her sad tale to them, they bestowed upon her
some money, promising to call upon her the
next day.
Hastening home again as fast as she could,
after purchasing some little comforts, she
sought the side of her dying boy. Alasl he
was dying 1 Scarcely had she reached the
door, when, stretching forth his attenuated
arms, he feebly exclaimed :
“ Dear mother, how glad I am you have re
turned, for, oh 1 I feel that I am dying 1”
“ No, dear George,” said the sorrow-stricken
mother, “do not say so; I know you will be
better to-morrow. Some kind laaies will be
hero to see us, and they will, perhaps, take us
out of this miserable abode, and then we shall
bo op
And she benTffffiffryTiVSriffffl,- and kissed htS"
cold, damp forehead.
“ Ah I yes, dear mother,” he replied, “ I shall
soon bo in a better and a happier place, and
where tho troubled heart will find eternal rest
and peace. But, O, ’tis hard to leave you here
behind, so friendless and so lonely! You know,
dear mother, how I have suffered for you, and
how I have struggled to obtain support for
you; and you dp not know how I was cruelly
turned from every door, and without a single
word of encouragement.” And ho continued,
as he threw his arms around his mother’s neck,
and tried to kies away her falling tears : “But,
oh I if they had known how miserable we were,
and that you were starving, they would have
been moro kind to me, perhaps. 'But I could
not tell them all—a feeling of honest pride,
that I have ever experienced, forbade me so to
do ; and I hope God will forgive them for their
coldness and inhumanity.”
And then he would shriek with tho terrible
agony in his side, which rendered his breath
ing so difficult and painful. '
At length, his poor mother said that she be
gan to see that his eyes grow glassy, that his
breathing was painful and difficult, and that he
could scarcely speak to her. It was then the
terrible conviction smote her heart that, in
deed, her boy, as she tenderly called him, was
dying. He was sinking rapidly, and each mo
ment growing weaker and fainter. The cold
damp of death was fast gathering on his face,
and soon his spirit would take flight to a better
and a happier realm.
But the poor widow could not realize the cir
cumsta*nce of losing her only son, and in that
cold, damp room, so drear and lonely, she
prayed that he might be spared to her, to bless
her aged years. But disease had done its work,
and mocked at the widow’s misery. The suf
ferer feebly raised his eyes and murmured
“ drink.” His mother tenderly laid his head in
her lap to administer some cooling moisture to
his lips, when, faintly sobbing, ‘ ‘ God bless you
mother I” fell back upon his bod of rags, and
expired.
Buell was tile simple and liearb-uemUnrr ]ji3-
tory she told us, which did not fail to make
a deep and lasting impression on Our minds.
It was indeed painful to think that in this great
and populous city that those so deserving, and
who had onco enjoyed so many comforts of life,
should be left to want and misery. It was, in
deed, to me a sad lesson of tho cold and cruel
heartlesness of the world, and my opinions of
the pretended charity of our upper classes and
wealthy citizens would have been entirely de
stroyed, had it not been for the appearance on
the scene of one kind angel of mercy before we
took our departure.
After finishing the inquest, moved to the
greatest pity by the wretchedness of tho poor
helpless woman, we inquired about the dispo
sition of the body, and if she had no kind friends
who would bestow upon her son a decent inter
ment.
“O, no 1” she exclaimed, “I have none to go
to.” Then, as ifrecollecting herself, she thought
of the ladies she had heretofore spoken of, and
said she would make application to them ; and
she, in the bitter agony of grief, implored us not
to take hor son from her, but that she might be
permitted to use her every endeavors to lay
him in consecrated ground. She could not bear
the thought that ho should sleep in a paupers’
grave. She could bear every disgrace but that.
While wo were determining in our minds tho
best way of assisting the heart-broken crea
ture, a gentle knock was heard at the door,
when a lady, most richly attired, entered the
room, and seeing myself and deputy there, and
the woman weeping, she gazed inquiringly
around. It was Mrs ,of Madison avenue.
At the sight of thia lady, the poor woman’s face
became radiant with joy, and she fell upon
her breast weeping.
“Why, what is the matter?” kindly asked
the lady. “Is your son no better ?” And then
turning round, her eyes fell upon the corpse, as
it lay upon its humble bier, when a shudder
ran through her whole frame. So shocked was
she at the sight, that she could scarcely artic
ulate another word. After composing herself,
she softly abjured tho sorrow-stricken mother
to moderate her grief—th«.t all clio doeixej
should be done for her and her dead son. She
had on her way down town purchased some
medicine for the deceased, which would bo
useless now, and a nice warm shawl and bon
net for tho mother, which she handed to her,
and some money also to provide for her imme
diate wants, with tho kind assurance that after
her son was quietly laid in his grave, a better
and a more comfortable home should be ob
tained for her, and she should never want a
kind and generous friend.
How blest would many of our suffering poor
be, if the kind example of this benevolent lady
was more emulated. How many there are at
the present day in our city languishing in want
and illness, who are too proud to make their
circumstances known. Would that a kind Prov
idence might direct the steps of the charitable
and the humane to their humble and, in too
many instances, unhappy and wretched abodes.
How many a heart could be made happy, and
many a home joyous and cheerful. I was led
into these reflections as we took our departure,
hastening on our way, with tho kind wishes of
the poor widow, and murmuring many a bless
ing upon the head of the good Samaritan, Mrs.
tho widow’s cries and healed her aged, broken
heart. .
[From the Chicago Republican, Jan. 81.]
AN ELOPEMENT.
A YOUNG WOMAN RUNS AWAY WITH A
MEMBER OF A CIRCUS COMPANY.
Another case of injudicious love, followed by
elopement, that never-failing attempt to in
crease the roughness of a thorny path, under
the false belief of entering a life of happiness
and pleasure, has just come to light. The cir
cumstances include in their detail the old story,
so often told, of the romantic tendencies of the
thoughtless maiden, and the ruinous step taken
to partially efface the act so inconsiderately
committed. J
A young girl just budding into womanhood
daughter of a milliner doing business in East
Lake street, is the heroine. Tho young woman
is scarce eighteen years of age, at that stage of
life so filled with the romance and glitter of tho
wild career of “tho foolish ones before them ”
and sentimentally susceptible to the charms of
young Lotharios waiting for the capture of the
golden fish. Tho mother of tho damsel is a
dame ever watchful of her children; stern when
necessity requires the iron hand to govern, and
mild and forgiven when fault seems worthy of
- pardon. ■
. Tho young lady was attending a public school i
m this city, when she met her fate in the per- 1
sonago of a handsome acrobat, an attache oi i
Yankee Robinson’s circus. She was accus- i
tomed to resorting to places of amusement, :
and, undoubtedly, first saw her beau ideal hab- 1
ited in the spangles of his calling. The history i
of their love and courtship adds nothing new to IJ
NEW YORK DISPATCH.
. tho page devoted to the sublime art of lovo and
, witchery; -‘the course of true lovo never did
■ run smooth,” but with them it was smoother
■ than in most similar instances. llow tho gal
l lant acrobat woood and won her—whether as
i the dusky Moor won Desdemona, and she loved
; him “ for the dangers ho had passed,” or whe
l ther he wooed her amid the.brilliant circles of
, tho dance, or “by what sorcery” he won hor,
f we knew not; but so it was—they mot and
, loved, and, without consent from any quarter,
i the nuptial knot was tied. About two weeks ago
1 tho daughter oi the careful milliner returned
> to her homo from school, as usual, and avowed
> her intention of getting married. The mother
- thought it was but a trifling freak of romantic
) nonsense, which would pass with the momeut.
- Nothing moro at that time was said about the
I matter. The following day (Sunday) tho young
> lady confided in her mother, and told hor tho
t whole story, that she had been married accord
t ing to her own heart’s desire. •
Expostulations were then in vain, as were the
, earnest endeavors of friends and relatives to
> separate tho newly-marriod couple. They were
1 deaf to the most loving entreaties ; the young
5 affections of the lovers had become too deeply
. folistsd, and they realized that “in life there’s
1 nothing half so sWSei as Iqve’s young dream.”
I It goon became painfrilly apparent to tho loving
i- mother that to keep hor daughter hero woujd
I be but a sanction to the match, so the young
) lady was, on a pretense of paying ft visit to
I friends in Wisconsin, sent to that State. Not
t long, however, did she there remain. The day
r after her departure from Chicago she returned,
I and vowed that here she would remain. Threats
; to procure a divorce wore made by the head of
- tho family. It then was that a turn in affairs
. took place. Tho loving couple, now linked to
. gether by tho silken chains of wedlock, deter
-1 mined to elope. A favorable opportunity pre-
i sented itself last week to carry through sue-.
- cessfully their contemplated flight? Notwith
l standing the strictest surveillance, tho golden
> moment at last arrived, and tho “ maiden fair,
i so buxom, blithe, and debonair,” had flown, and
, with whom it can readily be surmised. The
I last heard of the runaway couple, they were
, spending their honeymoon at Quincy, and, un
, tu disturbed by the detectives already on their
i track, will probably there remain. For the
> present this" closes the scene; when the cur
tain next rises, very likely the tableau may
i represent tho bride and bridegroom receiving
i the congratulations of friends, and the forgive
ness and benediction of relatives.
i A HARMLESS FELLOW.
“Oh 1 he’s only a harmless fellow. He
, wouldn’t hurt you for the world,” said my
. friend, carelessly.'
The person of whom my friend spoke was one
of those poor unfortunates known as lunatics.
He had been deprived of his reason by severe
mental suffering, and for several years had
been a melancholy idiot, wandering helplessly
about, being generally regarded as incapable o'f
, doing harm as good. In short, he was sun
. posed to be what my friend had called him, “ a
harmless fellow.”
I was on a visit to this friend, who was living
. in a pleasant little village, and had been with
him about a week when my story opened. His
t family consisted of his wife and three children,
i The unfortunate man who was considered
, “harmless,” was the son of a. neighbor. Ho
i was about thirty, and had been deranged for
eight years. An unfortunate lovo affair was
the cause. He was singularly gentle and affec
i nonrto, nn-t was-n—groav ravonto with my
friend’s children, of whom he seemed very
[ fond.
[ I was constantly uneasv lest some harm
, should happen to tho children through him,
, for I well knew tho danger of their having such
a friend. I repeatedly cautioned their parents
against this intercourse, but they merely
. laughed at me, and assured me that “Johnny,”
as the poor unfortunate was called, was a very
t “ harmless fellow.” Still, I could not rest sat
isfied, and I resolved to ba on my guard at all
times.
One day I was exhibiting something I had
purchased in London. It was a pocket-knife of
unusual strength and delicacy combined. My
friends wero delighted with it. Johqny was
present at the time, and was loud m his ad
, miration of it. He felt the keen, delicate blade,
. and then turning to mo with a strange smile,
eaid, gently :
“I could cut your throat with that in a min
. ute.” *
The rest of the group laughed, but I shud
. dered. I could not tell why, but the lunatic’s
; words alarmed me. I felt sure there was more
in the words than my friends believed. During
tho day I -watched Johnny closely. Several
times I saw him looking at me with a strange,
fixed expression that I did not like. I noticed
also that he lingered around the house longer
than usual, and that go where I would, I was
sure to find him at my elbow. At nightfall,
however, he went homo, and I dismissed him
from my mind.
When I went to my room, it was quite late,
and I was tired and sleepy. The night was
warm, and the moonlight gloriously boo utiful.
I sprang into bed, and was soon m a state of
blissful unconsciousness. My sleep was rest
less and disturbed, and full of all kinds of horri
ble dreams. It seemed that my excited imagi
nation, now that I could no longer control it,
was conjuring up all sorts of frightful and im-
Eossible things. The central figure of ail,
pwever, was the lunatic Johnny, who had
troubled me so during the day.
1 w»b mmKmxtrt} fka gon nd of a
low laugh. In an instant I knewwnatit meant,
and tried to spring up ; but, as I did so, a hand
of iron seized mo, and I was thrown back upon
the bed with great force. At the same time I
saw something flash in tho moonlight: and I
recognized my knife, and the lunatic who had
troubled mo so much during the day.
“ I mean to cut your throat,” he said, hoarse
ly. “ You bought that knife to kill mo with,
and I mean to cut your throat before you can
do so.”
The fellow was evidently in earnest, and
seemed possessed of the strength of two men.
I had managed to seize him in such a manner
as to prevent him from touching mo with the
knife ; but it required all my force to retain my
hold. I could see his wild eyes gleaming like
balls of fire, and feel his hot breath on my face,
and I knew that I must struggle as I had never
done before, for my life. From the unusual
strength of my assailant, I knew he was more
than a match for me, and I shouted for help.
We struggled for what seemed to me a full
half-hour, but really only some five minutes,
and yet no one came. I could feel my strength
giving way, and I knew that tho lunatic was
far from being exhausted. In the scuffle -we
had got off the bed, and had gained qur feet. I
was a good wrestler, and it was my skill in this
art, more than my strength, that enabled mo
to keep my feet.
I glanced about me almost despairingly. My
eyes caught a glimpse of the open window
through which the moonlight was streaming.
I had left it open because of the warmth of the
night, and now I hoped I might make it the
means of saving my life. I accordingly directed
all my efforts to bringing my antagonist near
tho windov. After a severe effort, my object
being unknown to him, I succeeded, and got
him at length right up against .the window,
with his back to it. Then, bracing myself for
a sudden and vigorous effort, I shouted :
“Look behind you l”_.
Startled by my cry, the lunatic relaxed his
grasp, and turned half around to the window.
As he did so, I hurled him with all my force
through the opening, and in another minute he
went Vi iioavily to tlxo ground, fund. X was
saved.’
I at once summoned my friend, and we de
scended to the lawn. Wo found poor Johnny
lying, stunned and bleeding, where I had
thrown him. 110 received proper attention,
and after some time recovered. .But he was no
longer allowed to go at large. The authorities
required him to bo sent to an asylum, and no
one was more urgent in tho demand for this
than my friend, who had como to agree with
me that no insane person can properly bo called
“ a harmless fellow.”
ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE.
We have been made acquainted with the
facts of a case, says the Chicago Post, which
fully represents the vicissitudes of life, and il
lustrates in unmistakable characters the old
adage “ that the way of the transgressor is
hard.” Several years since, John Lefevre, a
resident of Erie, Pa., died, leaving his little
daughter Jane an orphan, and entirely desti
tute of both friends and money. A family by
the name of Ratigan, living in the immediate
vicinity of the house occupied by Lefevre at the
time of his death, became interested in the
girl, and finally took pity upon her helpless
ness, and adopted her. Bhe soon forgot her
bereavement, and became very much attached
to her now parents. Years passed, and the
girl grew to womanhood, comely and dutiful,
and was the pride of the household. Her com
pany was much sought after by the young peo
ple of her acquaintance, and in consequence
she visited her friends, and was with the'm a
large portion of her time. In an unguarded
moment she was tempted with many fail- prom
ises made by a young man, and yielding, she
fell. Shortly after the Ratigans moved to this
city, and rented a house on Orleans street,
where they are now living. Tho evidences of
the girl’s guilt began to manifest themselves,
and finding it useless to longer attempt con
cealment, she confessed her guilt to her adopt
ed mother, who, enraged at what the girl had
done, turned her out of doors. Jane begged
and pleaded to be received back, but the mother
was firm in her course, and she was forced to
seek shelter elsewhere. She applied at several
places for admittance, but was repulsed, and
finally, weary at heart, and with a conscious
ness of her guilt oppressing her beyond endur
ance, she wandered to Windsor, and subse
quently toward Sandwich. Night camo on, and
tearing to ask for shelter, lest she should again
be turned from the door, she sank down bv the
roadside and wept herself to sleep. The'wind
howled around tier and played among her hair,
the snow fell upon her, and gradually covered
her as with a blanket, but she heeded it not. :
She was fast losing consciousness and strength '
in death. Morning camo, and with it assist- '
ance to the fallen girl. A gentleman passing
by saw a portion of her dress above the snow
and upon making an investigation, discovered 1
Jane, with life nearly extinct. He at once took 1
her in his sleigh and carried her to Sandwich,
where she was placed under the care of a kind
' family, but hor exposure was too much for her,
and she died. Her adopted parents in this city
wero notified, but they refused to own her or to
bury the body, which was accordingly taken
; care of by the authorities of Sandwich.
An English Advertising Doctor.—•
: We cut tho following genuine production from
, the English corrosnondence of one of our news-
> paper exchanges, tt is worthy of preservation:
; Roger Giles, Sur John I’arish Clark and
> Skulemaster reforms lady and gentlemen that
. he drass teeth without waiting a moment,
blisters on the lowest tarms, and viziks for a
; penny a peace. He Zells God-fathers Cordel,
> kuts koriis, and undertakes to keen everybodys
> Navies by the year or so on. Young ladees
; and gentlemen larncd there grammar language
- in thepurtiost manner, also gurt care taken off
i their morals and Spsllin, also zarm ginging
' teaching the base vial and all sorts of phancy
■ Work. Queer drills, pokers, Woazils, and all
I other Contrary dances tort at hoam and at
; Perftimery aha Sililf ill all its ufiuchos. As
i times bo cruel bad, He bogs to tell that he
; is just begun to sell all sorts of tashuary wares,
Kox, Hen, foies, chux, Poltry, Blaking hauls,
, herrings, and coles, skrubbin brushes, traklo,
i Godly bokes and Bibles, Gimlets, mice-traps,
[ brick dust and Whisker seed, and all sorts of
i sweet moots, including taters, sassages, and
other garden stuff, also phruto, hats, zongs,
. hoyle, lattin buckets, and other establcs. Korn
. and bunyad zarve, and all hardwares. He also
. performes fleabottomy on tho shortest notice;
. and fathermore in patickeler he has laid in a
. large assortment of type, dog’s meet, lollippops
and other pickcls—such as Hapsum Zalts, hoy
sters, winzer Zoap, &c., old rags bort and sold
hear and nowlicxesolss, new laid eggs every
day by me Roger Giles.
St. Louis Scandal—A Poetess Mixed
Up with It.— Chicago is hardly over the Stew
art divorce case, when St. Louis presents a
successor which creates no little excitement in
the legal and literary circles of that city. The
circumstances are Driedy as follows: Joseph
W. Mitchell, a lawyer, brings suit for divorce
from his wife, Mary A. Mitchell, charging her
with absenting herself from him since 18G5.
Mrs. Mitchell answers, repeating to a consider
able extent the oft-told tale of infidelity, faith
lessness and desertion. Mi’s. Mitchell charges
, her husband with having criminal intercourse
in Caro, in 1865, with a woman named Ellen
Shade, which has since been kept up continual
, ly, and for the commital of which she has re
fused to acknowledge him as her husband, or
( forgive him for the offense, and in turn she
i prays for a divorce. The Ellen Shade men ’ •
, ed in this connection is no less a person
.. local poetess, who has published m the papers
; of St. Louis during some months past quite a
number of effusions, in verse and prose, under
’ the non de plume of Ella • Elwood ? and has
, gained some reputation as a sprightly and
poetic writer. It is expected that the case will
i involve many of the leading citizens as wit
nesses, and disclose a rather revolting condi
i tion of things generally. Mr. Mitchell will
appear as his own counsel, and Mrs. Mitchell
. will bo represented by three leading lawyers.
■ Curious Marriage Ceremony. A
' correspondent of the Bombay writing
r from Omergaum, on the 7th of October, de
scribes the marriage ceremony observed among
i the Waralis, a little known tribe living in the
, Northern Konkau : The bride and bridegroom,
i both of whom are always at marriageable age,
i aro seated together with their relatives and
’ friends about them. The bride’s brother, or, in
his absence, the nearest,relative, stands beside
r her, as do also the parents of th® bi-idogi-oom
• near him. The brother of the bridegroom be-
L gins the ceremony by asking three times over
the question : “ Who is the owner or husband
I of this maid ?” To whkh the bridegroom replies
f that he is : and at every repetition of tho ques-
T tion, the brother ties the bride’s hah’ in a knot,
J and at every reply the bridegroom unties them.
■ The asks again the following question,
, “If this woman should hereafter become lame,
, or maimed, or blind, who is to support her?
This is x eplied to by the bridegroom’s parents,
• in which they promise protection to the daugh
ter-in-law under the circumstances specified.
- Bude and absurd as this ceremony may ap-
J pear to those accustomed to complicated and
J wearisome services, no one can fail to per
; ceive in it that element of simplicity and senti
l ment, without which all ceremonies are hollow
, and all formalities worthless.”
’ Arrest of One Female for Embbac
’ ing Anotheh.— Madlle. Salvioni, the ballet
[ dancer, fulfilling an engagement at the Argen
tina theatre, in Home, nas been arrested by or
der of tho Pontifical authorities, under the fol
, lowing circumstances: She dances in a ballet
entitled “ The Countess of Egmont,” and at a
j certain part of the performance has to embrace
. one of the characters, who is supposed to be
. her lover. The lieutenant of the vicariat,
. being apprehensive (says tho Italic) that the
public would be shocked by this amatory ex
bibition, ordered Mademoiselle Salvioni to dis
continue it. Sho refused, alleging that the
j person she embraced was a woman like herself,
though dressed in male attire, and that the
, audience were aware of the fact. To punish
HOT disobedience, tho lieutenant sent four gen
i darmes to arrest Mademoiselle Salvioni, and
the arrest would appear to have been made on
tho stage, and during the performance, for it is
stated that several persons quilted the theatre,
fearing a disturbance. As .a great favor, the
rebellious danseuse was allowed to remain un
der arrest in her own house instead of being
sent to prison, but next day, when she went as
usual to the theatre, she was escorted by four
gendarmes. Her re-appearauee on the stage
was greeted with thunders of applause.
The Power of a Growing Tree.—
Walton Hall had at one time its own corn mill,
and when that inconvenient necessity no longer
existed, the mill stone was laid by in an orchard
and forgotten. The diameter oi this circular
stone measured five feet and a half, while its
depth averaged seven inches throughout; its
central hole had a diameter of eleven inches.
By mere accident some bird or squirrel had
dropped tho fruit of the filbert tree through
this hole on to the earth, and in 1812 the seed
ling was seen rising up through that unwonted
channel. As its trunk gradually grew through
this aperture and increased, its power to raise
the ponderous mass of stone was speculated
upon by many. Would tho filbert tree die in
the attempt? Would it burst tho mill-stone?
Or would it lift it ? In the end, the little filbert
tree lifted the mill-stone, and in 1863 wore it
like a crinoline about its trunk, and Mr. Water
town used to sit upon it under tho branching
shade.— English paper.
Emotional and Magniloquent Elo
quence.—At a recent valedictory address to the
young ladies of a female institute, the lady prin
cipal thus addressed hor pupils:
“Affectionate pupils ; with many of you this
is our final meeting in tho relative position of
teacher and pupil, and we must part to moot no
moro. That this reflection filtrates from my
mind to my heart with saddening influence, I
need scarce assure you; but Hope, in a voice
sweet as ‘ the wild strains from the fEolian
harp,’ whispers in dulcet accents ‘wo may
meet again.’ In youth the impressions of sor
row are fleeting and evanescent as ‘ the vapory
sail ’ that momentarily o’ershadows the lucifor
ous orb of even, vanishes and leaves her disc un
tarnished in its lustre ; so may it be with you
May the gloom of this moment, like the eternal
prototype, bo but tho precursor of reappearing
radiance undimmed by the transitory shadow.”
Don’t Mind His Father. ~ General
Grant’s father lately wrote a letter to a friend
in Davenport, in which he questioned the lat
ter’s taste in making Davenport his place of
residence. The letter was shown to the editor
of tho Davenport Gazette, who mildly rebuked
the old gentleman for his want of appreciation.
Mr. Grant then wrote a second letter, excusing
and explaining his former one, and ending with
the following decidedly paternal paragraph :
“ It was suggested that possibly I might bo
forgiven if I would bring my oldest boy with
me when I visited Davenport next Summer.
That would, perhaps, be impossible, for he has
now got so large, he thinks he may play with
the big boys, and scarcely minds anything I say
to him. But when Igo I will take a much more
important personage—his mother.”
A Caution to Drunkards.—A little
man in the west of England rushed to the river
last Summer, swearing that he would drown
himself. When he had waded in to the depth
of his waist, his wifo, who had followed him.
seized him by the hair, and then, as a local
editor describes it, she “led him back till he
reached a plaSo where the water was about two
feet deep, where she pulled him over backward
and soused him under, and pulled his head up
again.” “Drown yourself (down he went),
leaving me to keep tho children (another
plunge), get drunk! (another souse) and start
for the river! (another dip). Bettor use the
water instead of rum! (another dip and shako
of his head). I’ll larn ye to leave me a widow 1”
After sozzling him to her heart’s content, sho
led him out a wetter if not a better man, and
escorted him into the house, and closed the
door.
Gratitude.—About fifty years back,
a married couple residing in Paris adopted a
male child that had been found in the streets,
although having a son of their own. The two
children were brought up together, and re
ceived tho same education : the foundling went
into business and made a large fortune, while
his benefactors met with reverses, and died,
leaving their son. a cripple, unprovided for.
The adopted son then devoted himself entirely
to his companion in infancy, refusing to marry
in order not to be forced to quit him, and has :
now just died, leaving him a fortune of nearly a
a million francs.
A new Motive Power for Starting j
Stbeet Cabs. —ln Detroit, a new motive power *
toy starting street cars has been invented. It t
is thus described : A wheel is firmly attached
I to the centre of the axle. On this a “ dog ” im
, pinges the moment an attachment intended to
’ draw the car is acted upon. This so rapidly as
i sists in moving the wheels, that the moment
i they are started the leverage is removed, but
immediately on stopping it returns to its origi
nal position, and is ready for the next start.
This attachment and fulcrum are inseparably,
connected, and must act conjointly. Its sim
plicity is a principal feature, and cannot fail in
one respect to commend itself.
How to Keep the Feet Warm.—A
1 young lady has kindly furnished the Detroit
. Tribune with a recipe, which she has tried and
: knows to be effective, that will keep feet warm,
I and we give it, without, however, recommend
; in" its general use. She says lam troubled
with cold feet, but I manage to keep warm by
, lying in bed every morning until my mother
has built a rousing fire and prepared breakfast,
i I then get up, place my foot on the front of the
i stove, eat my morning meal, read the news, and
after warming some flannels and wrapping
■ them about my ‘poor feet,’ return to bod,
■ where I remain until nearly noon. I repeat
this every twenty-four hours, and find it very
comfortable. I think I shall survive.”
Love and Larceny.—A romance of
love and larceny has just come to light in the
police court of New Orleans. A lady in bridal
array waited Vainly in a churqh, while he who
should have officiated as bridegroom was sell
ing her diamond cross, worth $2,500 to a pawn
broker. The recreant lover, a weil-known dry
' goods dork of the city, attempted to commit
suicide alter his incarceration for the crime,
but was prevented bv a public-spirited jailor,
who thought the city could not spare a citizen
so enterprising.
A Love Tragedy.—ln Kentucky,
recently, a young Cuban, being crossed by the
father in his passion for a young lady, declared
that she should not be taken from him, and
stubbed her, afterward killing himself, in spite
, of her attempts, wounded as she was, to hinder
him. Ho cut his throat and died immediately.
’ His victim lingered forty hours, and then ex
( pired.
i
l MADE DUMB BY POVERTY.
i
By C. T.. C.
Dost thou ask wo why I’m sad;
I Why I slowly speak and move ?
j I would toll thee, if I might :
’Tia because thou art my love.
Dost then ask me why I’m mute—
The cause of ail my eilence seek ?
• I would toll thee, if 1 might:
> ’Tis because I fear to speak.
Dost thou think me sullen, proud—
Thinju me cold aud changed to thoo l
j I would tell thee, if I might:
t ’Tis my weak heart’s panoply.
Dost thou ask, with pouting lip,
[ Why ’tia needful that we part ?
I I would tell thee, if I might:
I ’Tis to cast thee from my heart.
Thou art rich and I am poor;
I may not my love reveal.
} I would tell thee, if I might,
t All the anguish that I feel.
; SEVENTH Mil REPORT
' OF THE
’ SGIIffiSSIOSERS CF PUBLIC CHARITIES ASD
; COBBECTIOI4, ECU THE YEAR. 18C8.
Office or tub Commissioners or )
Public Chabiubs and Cobbbchon, >
No 1. Bond St., Aeizi York, Jan. 15, 1867.)
- To the Honorable the Board of Supervisors of
the County of New York:
1 The Commissioners of Public Chanties and
3 Correction, in accordance with tka Act passed
• April 17, 1860, respectfully submit their Annual
> iie.ort.
• In their last Annual Beport the Commissiou
•. ers expressed the belief, that the oxpomo of
> the institutions committed to their care would,
• in the ensuing year, ba diminished by the
> checks which had been established on disburse-
■ ments.by more rigorous economy and by the
• daily, instead of occasional visits of the Com-
■ missioners to the islands. Their expectations
1 have boon fulfilled. In the face of advancing
• pri os for all descriptions of food and clothing,
-of building materials and fuel, the expense per
r capita have been reduced, while the comfort of
the sick and helpless has been materially in
creased. Never before have they been as well
. fed or clothed, nor ever before, it may bo added,
[. have those committed to the correctional in
. stitutious performed so much labor. The
. medical organization of the hospitals has been
. enlarged and perfected; specialties have been
t established and physicians distinguished for
t their knowledge of the diseases thus Classified,
3 have been assigned for their treatment. An
s Epileptic Hospital and a Hospital for Paralytics,
have been erected. An infant department has
; boon created, where the foundling infants hitli
. erto distributed among the wards of the Alms
. house, and consigned to the mercies of relue
, tant attendants, have been gathered under the
care of a matron and kind and attentive nurses.
; A department for the treatment of tho sick re
t sidont at their own habitations, and a hospi
tal for incurables, have been established. The
[ prisoners at the Penitentiary have been divided
L into classes, according to the gravity of their
, offences, so that tho young in crime, are sepa
rated from the more hardened and depraved.
’ The system of occasional and inexperienced
, visitors to the poor has been abolished, and in
. their stead, permanent visitors of mature ago
, have been appointed. The city has been di
. vided into districts, and a visitor assigned to
each, who is required to have a general knowl
edge of the poor in his district. A Morgue,
similar to that in Paris, for ths reception of tho
unknown dead, has been erected, and tho beue-
■ fits already derived from it, show how great
was the necessity of its establishment. A school
for tho education of idiots has been opened, in
charge of a competent teacher, and the pro
gress which the scholars have made has de
monstrated that there is no condition of human
wretchedness which may not be alleviated by a
wise philanthropy. A long and acrimonious
controversy with the Commissioners of Emi
gration has been amicably settled by arbitra
tion, and kindly relations, interrupted for many
years, nave beou re-established between tho
two Commissions.
The daily expenses for the maintenance of
each inmate in the several institutions, during
the years 1865 and 1866, have been as follows:
1865. 1866.
o. ei. c. ar.
City Prison 30 1 29 0
Bellevue Hospital 39 4 33 2
Out-door Poor Hospital... 2
Charity “ .. .29 9 26 2
Small-pox “ ...60 9 46 9
Fever “ , ..28 9 26 1
Penitentiary 37 1 38 1
Almshouses 17 2 13 1
Infant Department 13 3
Workhouse 25 0 27 4
Lunatic Asylum 42 8 28 7
Epileptic and Paralytic Hos
pitals 86 2
Children’s Nurseries, Ban
dali’s Island 22 8 24 6
HOSPITALS.
There are in charge of tho Commissioners
the following Hospitals:
Bellevue Hospital City of Now York.
Ont-door Poor Hospital “ “
Charity (late. Island)
Hospital Blackwell’s Island.
Small Pox Hospital... “ “
Fever “ ... “ “
Infant “ .... “ “
Incurables “ .... “ “
Epileptic “ .... “ “
Paralytic “ .... “ “
Lunatic Asylum “
Children’s Hospital... .Bandall’s Island.
Idiot Asylum “ “
BELLEVUE HOSPITAL.
This hospital, situated on T wenty-sixth street,
New York, is for tho treatment of general sur
gery and medicine. It contains one thousand
beds, and is open at all hours of the day and
night for tho reception of patients. During tho
past year there have been seven thousand seven
hundred and twenty-five patients treated, of
whom six thousand one hundred and twelve
were discharged and cured, and eight hundred
and twenty-throe died, and there are seven hun
dred and ninety now under treatment. No
charge is made, except for patients abundantly
able to pay, and the maximum charge for them
is fifty cents per day.
Tho medical organization of tho hospital con
sists of twenty physicians and surgeons, emi
nent for their professional ability and experi
ence. They meet on the first of every month,
to confer on tho medical affairs of tho hospital,
and to assign to its several divisions the visitors
for the ensuing month. Subordinate to these
gentlemen there are six house physicians and
surgeons, who are always on duty, and with
them are associated four senior and four junior
assistants. During tho past year, the hospital,
under its diligent and competent Warden, Mr.
Brennan, has been thoroughly repaired and
painted, many unnecessary employees have
been dismissed, and more vigorous discipline
has boon established.
MOBGUE.
Connected with the hospital is the Morgue,
or receptacle for the unknown dead. A building
on tho hospital grounds, near tho East river,
has been fitted up, similar to tho Morgue in
Paris, where persons found dead in the streets ,
or river are laid for tho examination by such as
have lost relatives or friends. Tho necessity of .
such provision has long existed. Every year .
persons are missed, and no information respect
ing them is obtained. Theirfriends make long
and fruitless search for them, and the uncer- i
tainty of their fate adds to their sorrow. ■
Hitherto, when a corpse was found in the streets
or in the rivers, tho coroner summoned a jury, ' i
and when the cause of death was 'ortained, i
the body was immediately buried, thus destroy- <
ing m a great degree all clue by which the I
friends of the deceased couid learn his fate.
By the regulations of the Morgue, bodies aro t
on public exhibition day and night for seventy- ;
two hours, or as long as their condition will i
permit exposure; a minute and accurate de
scription of the person and tho cause of death
aro recorded, and tho clothes of tho deceased r
aro exhibited for twenty days. Tho rules gov
erning the Morgue, which aro herewith sub
mitted, are the same substantially as those of
the Paris Morgue. For the plans of that build
ing, and for many important suggestions, tho
Commissioners aro indebted to John Bigelow,
■ Esq., the late U. S. Minister to France.
Since the Morgue was opened on 21st
June, there have been received 72bodies.
Identified by friends 28
Unknown..., 44
-72
HOSPITAL FOB OUT-DOOB POOB.
This institution, designed for tho treatment
of such as do not require the continuous atten
tion of the hospital, and are not prevented by
their ailments from following their ordinary
occupations, was opened on the 15th of October
last. From that date to the Ist of January,
there were treated four hundred and thirty
seven patients, and one thousand three hun
dred and seventy-eight prescriptions were dis
pensed. .
The medical organization of this institution
consists of twenty consulting physicians or sur
geons, and twenty attending physicians and
surgeons. Tho cases treated are classified as
follows:
Diseases of the chest.
Diseases of the digestive system.
Diseases of the nervous system.
Diseases of tho urinary system.
Diseases of the skin.
Diseases of the eye and ear.
Diseases peculiar to women.
Diseases of children.
Orthopcedic surgery.
General surgery.
And to each class of disease, two physicians
or surgeons are assigned, who have made tho
disease their special study. They attend on
certain designated days in each week, and pre
scribe for the patients who may present them
selves. The medicines prescribed are prepared
by the apothecary of the institution, and are
furnished gratuitously. Such patients as re
' quire continuous attention are transferred to
tho hospitals of the department.
CHABITY HOSPITAL.
' Until within the past year, Charity (late Is
land Hospital) was under the supervision of the
Medical Board of Bellevue Hospital. In March
’ last, the Commissioners appointed a separate
Board, consisting of two consulting, and twenty
two visiting physicians and surgeons.
The charge of the Medical Board of Charity
Hospital, extends to the Small-pox and Fever
Hospitals, and Hospital of Incurables, the alms
houses, tho Difani Department, the Peniten
tiary, and the Workhouse. The duties of the
visiting physicians and surgeons arc classified
as follows:
General surgical services.
General medical services.
Venereal services.
Fever and small-pox services.
Uterine services.
Ey n and ear services.
Ah..suouse and Infant services.
Hospital of Incurables.
Workhouse and Penitentiary services.
Tho General Surgical, General Medical, and
Venereal Departments, each constitute two
divisions, and to each ot which, and to the sev
eral specialties and institutions above men
tioned, two visiting physicians or surgeons aro
assigned. The respective specialties and divis
ions are under the constant attention of a res
ident assistant. The Hospital of Incurables
has been established since tlie Ist instant.'
There have been in the Charity Hospital during
tho past year 7,574 patients.
Discharged cured 5,995
Died 694
Bemaining 885
The superiority of the present medical organ
; ization of hospitals over tho old systems of paid
resident physicians, lias been fairly demonstra
ted by several years’ experience, but more es
pecially since the organization has been per
fected by tho establishment of specialties of
disease. /Aside from tho pecuniary economy of
the present system, which secures the gratui
f tuus services of the physicians and surgeons,
the field of practice is so largo and varied as to
1 attract the most eminent of I lie profession.
1 It was further illustrated by the prompt and
wise measures adopted for tho suppression of
the cholera during the past Summer. That dis-
- ease suddenly appeared with great malignancy
f in the crowded populations or tho almshouses
and workhouses, and though very fatal among
the vitiated aud depraved inmates of those in-
- stitutious, its career was speedily terminated
1 by the skill and devotion of tho officers of the
- Medical Bo»fd of Charity Hospital. And in this
i connection it is proper to advart to the
; able services oi Dr. Frack 11. Hamilton, the
, Chairman of the Committee of Medical Inspec
: tion of that Board. When the cholera broke
f out, isolated hospitals were at iiis instance, and
- under his directions established, a code of sani
l tary regulations formed by him was adopted,
and radical changes in diet, and in the forms
■ and hours of labor, at his suggestion, were
i made. To his resolute and intelligent action
i may be attributed the arrest of the disease, and
so confident was he of the efficiency of bis pro
' posed treatment, that he foretold the number
. of days in which the disease would disappear,
i The last case occurred within twenty-four hours
. of the period he had designated.
i Tho report oi tho Hectical Board of Charity
• Hospital is herewith submitted. Among the
• documents appended to it, and to which the at-
• tention of the Legislature ’is respectfully invi
-1 ted, is an able and exliaustive report Dr. Leßoy
Milton Yale, addressed to Dr. Hamilton, Chair
man of the Committee of Inspection, which nar-
■ rates tho clinical history of tho cholera on
i Blackwells Island, its origin and progress, tho
I hygienic measures adopted for its suppression,
and modes of cure. Tho report of Dr. Yale wih
■ bo regarded as a valuable contribution to medi
cal science, and the industry and ability which
. it displays auger for him a career of distin
guished usefulness.
1 SMALL-POX HOSPITAL.
This Hospital is situated ut the extreme west
' erly end of Blackwell’s Island, apart from other
buildings, and all access to it by visitors is for
bidden. It is a substantial stone structure, well
ventilated, and divided into rooms of moderate
size, in order that patients may be more com
fortable than in extended wards, and that the
infectious poison of the disease may be more
thoroughly dispersed.
The number of patients during the past
year was 314
Died 29
Cured 278
Bemaining 7
FEVEB HOSPITAL.
The Fever Hospital is also isolated, and is
devoted to the treatment of Typhus or Ship
Fever. Tho vigorous action of the Board of
Health in breaking up the nurseries of infec
tious diseases in the city of New York, and the
exemption of emigrant ships from Ship Fever,
has reduced the number of patients below the
average of former years.
The number admitted during 1866 was 612
Died 121
Cured 479
Bemaining 12
INFANT HOSPITAL.
The mortality, always largo among chil
dren, was at Blackwell’s Island greatly in ex
cess of the average death rate.
For many years it has been over 80 per cent.
The attention of the present Board of Commis
sioners was early directed to this subject, and
the causes of the excessive fatality sought.
The diet was found improper ; adequate medi
cal attendance was not provided; the nurses,
infirm old women, inmates of tho Almshouse,
wore anxious to escape Bom their unpaid du
ties, and these duties terminated with the
death of the infants committed to their caro.
It is not surprising that, under these circum
stances, life was of short duration.
In the Hospital for Infants, recently estab
lished, tho children are provided with attentive
nurses, undo: the supervision of a matron. A
house physician is in constant attendance, and
two visiting pliysicians, members 01 the Medi
cal Board of Charity Hospital, visit them at
stated periods. Eadioal changes in diet, cloth
ing and in the whole regime of the Hospital
have been made by Dr. J. Bayley Done, Visit
ing Physician, who has devoted much time to
its organization.
The period which has elapsed since tho Hos
pital was established has been too brief to de
termine accurately its advantages over the old
system, but tho improved health of the chil
dren, and the diminished number of deaths, al
ready testify to its beneficent effects.
LUNATIC ASYLUM.
Tho Lunatic Asylum contains 767 patients,
in all stages of mental disease. Great and
beneficial changes have been made in the in
terior arrangements of the two more important
buildings during the past year, but their
crowded cpiidition is a serious obstacle to the
improvement of tho patients and to their
general comfort. It is the intention of the
Board to erect another building for their
accommodation and for their more perfect clas
sification than is now practicable. Refer
ence is respectfully made to the annexed re
port of Dr. Parsons, the Resident Physician,
for a detailed statement of the condition of tho
Asylum, and tho contemplated improvements
in tho regimen of the patients.
HOSMT.IL FOB EPILEPTICS.
A hospital for tho treatment of epileptics ex
clusively has been established. Hitherto this
unfortunate class of patients have received but
little medical attention. They have been aban
houed as incurable, and have been permitted
to go through tho several stages of their dis
ease, til 1 it has ended in idiocy, madness or
death. Tho establishment of this hospital
marks a new era in the medical annals of this
country, and, indeed, in the world; for with the
exception of a small hospital of like character
recently established in London, the Institution
of the Commissioners is the only one in exist
ence.
HOSPITAL FOB PABALYTICS.
The Board has also established a hospital for
paralytics, as with the epileptics, those afflicted
with the various forms of paralysis have been
regarded ns the victims of incurable disease,
and iiave received no other medical attention
than to provide for their general health. AU
efforts ip remove their specific, disease have
boon regarded as hopeless.
Tho hospitals for epileptics and paralytics
are in charge of Dr. J. Gonzales. Echieverra
and two assistant physicians. Dr. Echieverra’s
report is herewith submitted.
CITY PRISONS.
There aro four prisons in charge of the Com- 1
missioners; . ;
Sunday Edition. Feb. 10.
First District prison or Tombs.
“ or ssex Market prison. 1
Hh c. or Jefferson Market
j nl o-, , or 57th street prison.
district prisons are forth&
temporary detention of persons charged with
offenses, and who are daily transferred to tha
Tombs to await tnal. The number lodged in
the 2d and 4th district prison is comparatively
small, and those prisons aro sufficiently com
modious. The increase of prisoners at Jeffer
son Market compelled the Board to hire from
the city an adjacent building, and fit it up fou
the confinement of disorderly persons. With
this additional building, ample space has beSft
secured for several years.
In the last annual report, the Commissioner®
referred to the inadequate provision for tho
confinement of prisoners at the Toombs, or Ist
district prison., It was shown that, in an area,
capable of holding properly but 120 prisoners 9
there are in confinement always 350; and that*
during the hot months of Summer, when th©
Courts are not in session, the number is in«»
creased to 450 prisoners. In the male depart*
ment there aro:
First Tier—For prisoners under sen
tence of death, or States
Prison 11 cellar
Sentence of Penitentiary.. 2 u
Reception of prisoners.... 2 “
K Hospital 6 u
“ Disorderly conduct 4 “
Second Tier—For prisoners on trial for
felony 80 u
Third Tier—For prisoners on trial for
felony 30 u
85 «•
FEMALE PRISON.
For prisoners convicted or on trial for
fe10ny...... 11 <®
For intoxication and disorderly con-
duct 11
Total 107 “> -
Tho dimensions of the male cells are, of
First tier, 9 feet by 5 foot 8 inches.
Second tier, 8 feet by 5 feet 8 inches.
Third tier, 7 feet by 5 feet 8 inches.
Moral as well as sanitary considerations
quire that but one prisoner should be lodged!
in a cell, yet, at the most oppressive season of
the year, when the heat ranges from eighty to
ninety degrees, the warden is compelled, by
the multitude of his prisoners, to place three*
and oftentimes five, in each.
In the female prison, the cells of which are
larger, he is obliged to confine ten or
prisoners in each coll. The practice of cording
• ing persons together of various degrees o|'
crime, has a most unfavorable influence on tho
less depraved, and, to those who may be in
nocent of the offenses with which they ar©
charged, it is the extreme of injustice and cru»
city. In Juno last, the Commissioners directed. -
the attention of the District Attorney to thi®
subject, and at his instance the Grand Jury of
the County visited the prison, and after care-<
fully examining its condition, presented it tdb
the City Government as a serious public evi.V
The presentment of the Grand Jury is here
with submitted:
PRESENTMENT OF THE GRAND JRRY. j
At a Court of General Sessions of the Peace*
holden in and for the City and County or
New York, at tho City Hall of the said City*
on Friday, the twenty-second day of June, in
the year of our Lord one thousand eights
hundred and sixty-six, (
Present—The Honorable John K. Hackett, Re
corder, of tho City of New York, Justice oF
the Sessions.
The Grand Jury make the following present
ment to the Court, to wit:
Grand Jury Room, ) 1
Juno 22, 1866. J
The Grand Jury have duly considered the
• Court’s request to investigate the sufficiency of
• accommodation for prisoners in the city prisons*
■ and upon that subject present:
J That when the City Prison was first occupied
■ in 1836, the population of the city was about
one-third of the number of inhabitants now
dwelling within its limits. The average num*
1 ber of prisoners confined therein each day ife
1838 was about fifty. In 1865 the average num-
. ber of daily prisoners was two hundred. In
’ some months, as many as three hundred pris«*
oners were in confinement in one day. Th©-
cells (which were intended for only one occu
pant each) sometimes contained three, and. -
oftentimes two prisoners. Except for the com*
■ mendable care and cleanliness, commanded to.
. their subordinates to be used in tho City
on the part of the Commissioners in charge
thereof, such an arrangement would have pro
dneed aud It_ h
' however, that such human herding or orimmala
must be productive of Immorality, and make a
i reformatory prison a vicious nursery.
In 1838, the adjoining building to the Prison*'
and officially known as the Halls of Justice, was
act apart for tho accommodation of the Court®
of General and Special Sessions, the Grand and
Petit Juries, the attendant officials of these-
Courts, and of Police Magistrates and Clerks,
In 1853, the Court of General Sessions, and it®
jurors and officials were removed. Since then*
the Halls of Justice of have been used by th©
Court of Special Sessions and two Police Courts*
and their officials.
It is represented by the Commissioners of
Public Charities and Correction, that at a com
paratively small expense, tho space now appro
priated to court-rooms in the whole building
popularly known as tho “Tombs,” could b©>
used for the purposes of enlarging the prison
accommodations, so as to make the latter an
swer all their publie purposes for some time to
come. The Grand Jury, therefore, reoommendf
that the corporate authorities obtain in th©
immediate vicinity of the “ Tombs,” suitable
accommodations for the Special Sessions and
the Police Magistrates of the First District, and
thus allow the Commissioners to practically
enlarge the prison. If such accommodation® '
could be obtained in Elm street or either of th©
side streets opposite to the Tombs, the court
rooms could be connected with the prison by &
bridge, and a convenient ingress and egress of
prisoners obtained; or convenient rooms might
bo had at small expense in the City Arsenal, at
the corner of White and Elm streets, but now
little used. And in making such recommend*-’ >
tions, the Grand Jury advise that the moet
rigid economy be pursued, consistent with th©
laudable objects to be obtained by enlarging
the prison conveniences.
Henry A. Hurlbut, Foreman, j
Wm. L. Andrews, Secretary. ‘ 1
It is, perhaps, within the power of the Com
missioners to correct the evil by the erection of
another prison, but they are deterred by th©
great expense, and by the hope which they
cherish, that tho Court of Special Sessions*
which occupied one-half of the front of th©
prison, may be removed. If the space occupied
by the Court were converted into cells, th©
further enlargement of the prison would fox
several years oe unnecessary.
PENITENTIARY.
There were on tho Ist of January,
1866, in the Penitentiary 596 prisoners.
Committed during the year. 1,978 i
Died 17 • .
Discharged 1,957
Remaining 600>
Of those committed during the past year,
one thousand five hundred and forty-four wer©
males, and four hundred and thirty-four fe
males.
It has been the practice to associate and!
work the prisoners m gangs irrespective of the
crimes for which they were committed. Th©’
constant intercourse between the youthful and
the veteran criminal was of the most disastrous
influence on the former; it destroyed the last
trace of virtuous feeling, and prepared him foi?
the perpetration of graver crimes when he wa®
discharged from prison.
The Commissioners have recently caused ths
prisoners to bo classified as follows :
First Class.—Prisoners known to have been im
prisoned in a State Prison.
“ “ Prisoners convicted of Felony th©
second time. r
Second Class.—Prisoners convicted of Felony
for first offence. /.
u u Prisoners convicted of
and Battery with intent
commit felony. ilv
Third Class.—Prisoners convicted of Assault
and Battery, without felonious
intent. j
It is made the duty of the Warden to assign
Erisoners, as they are received, to the
ig classes, according to their offences; tq
separate them at their labor and at their meals j
to confine them at night at as wide intervals a©
practicable, and to prevent any communication
between the classes.
Among the social reforms that demand ths
attention of the people, none are more nnperaw
tive than those affecting criminal life and prison
discipline; and on none has there been les&
thought bestowed. Poverty and crime are in?!
evitable. “The poor yo have always witjf :
you;” and there constantly occur, in every class,
of society, overmastering temptations that lea<|
to crime in some form. But the larger propor
tion of criminal acts are the result of certairt.
conditions which are within the control off oj
may be greatly modified by, tho community? 1 .
If men and women are permitted to g. ow up im
neglect, and ignorance, and idleness, crime i®
as sure to be the product as is disease in thof.
presence of poisonous exhalations.
There are, in the City of New York, SO.OOty 1
children, between the ages of five and t\tolv4j
who receive no education, and whose days ar©
passed in poverty and idleness. Utterly destU
tute, many without parents, and all without thd
active, effective sympathies of those who coulj
raise them above want, how can it be, that
they grow up they should be other than dissO«|
lute and criminal ? It is this class that fill oue
reformatories and prisons ; and, Lc .'ause or
their defective discipline, it is sad to beliey®
that the place of punishment for the first offens©
is the school of the greater villainies, and tnafc
tho boy sentenced for thirty or sixty days forf
potty theft, aud entering the prison contrite oi
remorseful, steps from it hardened aud
resolute in wickedness, and conscious that, toj
him, the world of honesty and virtue is shu|
out, and that there is no future for him but
successful crime. . J v
There is now, in the City of New York,
sharply-defined criminal’class, cons'antly augw
inentmg in numbers as well as iu ueGravity/,
and, corresponding in organization and habit©
of life to tne dangerous classes of the greafc
citios of Europe. ~ There can be no v?e.u
hope for the diminution of crime while clas©
shall exist. It is idle to rest on the .. "e pal
liatives of benevolent associations unaidep