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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, May 05, 1867, Image 1

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VOLUME XXII. •
The New York Dispatch,
PUBLISHED
EMERY SATGRDAT MORffllffl
AT No. If FRANKFORT STREET,
* A FEW DOOBS BELOW TAMMANY HALL.
SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, SS 00 A YEAR.
W- A SECOND EDITION, containing the latest news
from ail quarters, published on Sunday morning.
B&- The NEW YORK DISPATCH is sold by all News
Agents in the City and Suburbs at TEN CENTS PEL
COPY. All Mail Subscriptions must be paid m advance.
Canada Subscribers must send 25 cents extra, to prepay
American.postage. Bills of all specie-paying banks taken
at par.
TERMS OF ADVERTISING.
Hereafter, the terms of Advertising in the Dispatch
Will be as follows:
WALKS ABOUT TOWN 30 cents per line.
BUSINESS WORLD 20 “ “ “
SPECIAL NOTICES 18 “ ° "
REGULAR ADVERTISEMENTS..IS “ “ “
Under the heading of “ Walks About Town” and “Bus
iness World” the same prices will be charged for each in
sertion. For Regular Advertisements and “Special
Notices,” two-thirds of the above prices will be charged
for the second insertion. Regular advertisements will be
taken by the quarter at'the rate of one dollar aline.
Special Notices by the quarter will be charged at the rate
of one dollar and twenty-live cents, per line. Cuts and
■ fancy display will be charged extra.
;gJW and (QuerM ;
B. A. B.— “ Will you please inform
a reader of the Dispatch, through the ‘Notes and
Queries’ column, the exact age of Miss Maggie Mitchell,
or will you give it as near as possible ? Your answer will
be anxiously awaited, as it will settle a dispute which at
present rages fiercely.” Was ever such an unconscion
able question propounded before ? “The exact age” of
the lady ! No, sir. We couldn’t be guilty of so great an
1 outrage on any woman—and especially upon one whose
age we don’t know. Who ever thought of numbering the
days that had elapsed since “dainty, tricksy” Maggie
Mitchell was ushered into the world! What a base,
mathematical-brained fellow he must be who could sit
during one of her performances—while the rest of the
audience were trying to hide the emotion which her
natural pathos had evoked, or were giving way to the
laughter which her drollery and fun aroused—counting
the sands of her life. Perhaps the same fellow would
gum up the number of meals she had taken, the quantity
of liquids she had consumed, the number of yards of dry
goods she had spoiled, or how often she had pared her
finger-nails. We can say this, for the purpose of allaying
the “dispute which fiercely rages:” Miss Maggie Mitchell
is charming and enchanting enough to be sweet sixteen—
wise enough to be sage one hundred—good enough to be
unchangingly middle-aged. Indeed?she is like the lady
the poet Pinkney toasts:
“ A woman, of her gentle sex
The seeming paragon.
Her every tone is music’s own,
Like of morning birds.
And something more than melody
Dwells ever in her words. «
Of her bright face one glance will trace , ’
A picture on the brain,.
And ot her voice, in echoing hearts,
A sound must long remain.”
Mary Jane informs us that she is a
nice young girl, and, like females of her age, she is curi
ous, and would like to get married. There is a nice
young man waiting upon this nice young girl. He is all
her fancy painted. If anything, a little ahead of fancy.
He has curly hair—a light, but lovely mustache—cherry
cheeks—sparkling eyes—wears the tightest legged pants,
the loudest vests, and coats which hide but little of his
manly form—he smiles sweetly and talks wittily—he is
the perfection of constancy and all that sort of thing.
‘.But—and this is what’s the matter—he don’t think he
can afford to marry. His salary isn’t sufficient to support
him in the style in which he wishes to maintain the lady
o.f his love. The lady thinks differently, and wants to
know how much a young man can live on with a wife—to
shirt with; and she also wishes to know what she can do
to hurry him up. The position of the “nice” young giil
is very tantalizing. Loving and beloved. Ready to
plunge into matrimony. Anxious to share the heart, the
Lorie, the happiness, the sorrows, the purse of one all
too cold, too selfish —of one who is afraid to breast in
double harness, as it were, the woes of life—of one who’d
rathtr go it alone—who don’t think pain lightened be
cause two bear it instead of one. We say this is a disa
greeable situation for a female, and we sympathize with
“Mary Jane.” We don’t see how we can aid her, except
we offer ourselves in the place of the “nice” young man-
We would do so, only we have a suspicion that the “nice”
girl has red hair. There was one more-than-auburn hair
in the note which we received. If “Mary Jane” isn’t a
“tricksy,” we’ll do it—bald as we are. Will she send her
carb, de visile ? We await its arrival with trepidation—for
we don’t like red-headed women. They’re so boisterous,
bo much like “Old Boreas, my grandad.” “Her voice was
ever soft and low,” is our style. But send along the carte.
Brooklynite.— lst. There are city
ordinances forbidding the throwing of garbage into the
streets. There is a fineof $5 for the first offense. Complaint
should be made at the nearest Station-House 2d.
It is the landloi d’s place to have the chimneys of a tene
ment house cleaned 3d. If there is no agreement to
the effect, and you hire from month to month, you are
not bound by law to give your landlord a month’s notice
cf your intention to move.. .4th. You have no right to
deduct the expense of any repairs you make from the
rent without the permission of the landlord sth.
The medicine of which you speak we have heard ex
tolled, but can say nothing about it from our own knowl
edge.
Cardoza. —“ Ist. Will you oblige
fne by informing me about how many persons can be ac
commodated on board the Great Eastern.” About a
thousand persons could be comfortally accommo lated;
but were the passengers to be packed as in otner vessels
there is space for between three and four thousand. It
is estimated that ten thousand soldiers could be trans
ported upon her “2d. Did General George E. lie-
Clehan ever hold a higher position in the Union army
than third in command?” Yes. He was general-in-chief
cf the Union armies for about eight months. As a mat
ter of course he was at all times subordinate to the
, President and Secretary of War.
Willie Hammond puts a number of
questions to us which we cannot answer. He wants to
know if certain rumors are true—if they are not true,
why ? To which we can only reply as did profound J ack
Bunsby when placed in a similar quandary; “If so be as
, how the rumors are true, why so; but if so be as how the
■ rumers ain’t true, why so also.” And that is our opinion
in the present case—we give it boldly, fearless of contra
. diction and reckless of consequences.
F. 8. A.—“ Will you please answer
in your next what bounty bill it is that has just passed
the Senate and Assembly, and how much we are entitled
to under it?” We were not aware that the bill of which
you speak had passed the Legislature: butthat makes
,little difference, as the Governor has not signed it, and it
lis too late now, more than ten days having passed since
the adjournment of the Legislature.
C. L-— You cannot have watched
<Che paper very carefully, otherwise you would have seen
,an article of yours in the last number. We have no time
ko answer inquiries through the post. We publish only
hsuch contributions as please us, and cannot undertake to
print everything that any person may write. The un
■printed sketches you can h&se by calling at the Dispatch
.office.
H. B.— u lam living in a house of
whichmy grandmother has a life jight. Can she right
fully transfer this to any one if she feels so inclined ?’»
Certainly she can; but if she leases the hotcae for any
particular time, and dies ere the conclusion of that time,
Che lease is worthless, and the property reverts to the
owners.
Bichelieu.— Your question is of so
■much importance that we cannot undertake to it
all at one time. We’ll take it up in sections, and trea\ it
in detail. When ready to commence, we’ll let the “Eox
cf France” know.
Old Subscriber.— The Gift Enter
prise of Kelly & Co., of Chicago, was a swindle. Tire
prizes were never drawn.
Sufferer. — We know nothing of the
repulatSn of the practitioners of whom you speak.
N. O. B.— We cannot tell whether
Mrs, Forrest has or has not received alimony.
The Harbor Police —A New Boat.—
Th« Police Commissioners think of purchasing a
De w tll ° use of the Harbor Police. The ves-
a a are negotiating, was built in Buffalo,
% a - hsu ’ and may ,:t is 6aid propelled at
|0 hlr^tl“ iloß S ° r hOUr - She 18 expectea I
PUBLISHED BY A. 1 WILLIAMSON.
POLICE TRIALS.
Forty Wlnlis— A Policeman In a Quandary—
A Teuton Wants back a Watch he gives
to bls Landlady—The Language of Green
backs—How Ladles are Picked up in
Cars—Too much Chin Duty—Taking it
Easy—Wids-awake—Why Smith didn’t
Arrest a Man-The Blind Staggers-Bur-
ClflrlCße
WHAT IS SLEEP.
Webster has given a great many definitions of
what the thing is, repose, slumber, rest or death; but
Mr. Acton not satisfied with the great lexicographer’s
solution of the thing that we are all subject to, gave
another definition to that great human mystery—it
was—well, snoring. If a man snored he was asleep.
Officer John Riggs was charged with this offence
while on duty on his round, in Brooklyn by Rounds
man McDougal, who swore that he caught him sitting
down, his hand resting on his head. Mr. Acton,
“Was he asleep?” “ His eyes were closed.” “Did
you hear him snore?” “No.” “Did you speak t<s
him?” “Not till I wkked him up by striking him
with my glove.” The defendant proved that five
minutes before the roundsman came along he was
wide-awake, and In explanation said, that he had a
heavy headache. He denied being asleep.
Mr. Acton—“ Forty winks wasn’t it, Mr. Riggs?”
“No sir.”
HOW OFFICERS ABE SOMETIMES IN A FIX.
Officer Holmes was charged with arresting a man
for petty larceny, and then taking,him to the Police
Court, and letting him go because there was no
Magistrate. The prisoner w&s detained two houra at
the Station House for the complainant to accom
pany officer and prisoner to Court. The aUoged
larceny was* a set of harness. The officer’s
story, which is a true version of the affair,
was as follows: “ I met a boy who said
that a man had stolen some harness from
Mr. Green, I arrested the man and took him
to the Station House, and waited for Green.
After waiting for him a reasonable time, three
hours and a half, and he not coming, I started with
the prisoner to Green’s place. I saw Green,
and Green said he had no charge to make against the
man; he had borrowed a Get of harness of him, and
he wanted it back again, that was all he cared about.
I took the prisoner to the Tombs and there was no
magistrate or complainant, and I let him go.”
THE SAME FIX.
Officer Jersey, of Brooklyn, was charged with
nearly a similar offense. Herr Gasper Swinefest
keeps boarders. One of them made a presentation
to the frauline of a gold watch. Times changed and
circumstances made the presenter leave the house,
but he thought he would have the “vatch backs
again.” Herr Swinefest said that it should not be.
He said Frauline Swinefest and Herr Swinefest were
of one flesh and bone, and the watch when given to
his frow was given to him. The man said, “The
duse it is,” and went on to show that his from could
give him many delicate things in the cooking line
that he couldn’t give; she had broke her word, and
he would have the watch back again. This caused
officer Jersey to be sent for. When the man got out
side he said rather than be arrested, he would give
the watch up; it was given up, and nobody was
charged with theft, and the officer in a quandary let
the man ho came to arrest go. For not arresting him
on the complaint made, without a complaint or a
charge of larceny being preferred, Officer Jersey was
put on trial.
OF THE SAME KIND.
The complainant in this case was Captain Garland,
and the defendant, Officer Cole. The charge was
making an arrest, and not taking the prisoner to the
elation-house. Cole said : “When I was walking on
my post a gentleman says to me, * I want you to
arrest that woman’ —pointing to her. ‘Are you in
earnest?’ says I; I thought he was joking. ‘Not
a bit of it,’ says he; ‘she has picked my pocket.’
I arrested her, and going down Prince street, the
woman said that they had been riding in the cars to
gether, side by side. That the gentleman dropped a
two dollar bill at her feet. She picked it up and put
it into her pocket, and when she rose to get up he got
up ; she went out and he went out; he wanted to ac
cumponybov humo. but she said he was not worth
the money, and would have notningro ao witn nim.
He thereupon called upon the officer and asked him
to arrest the woman. He admitted all she said to be
true, but said she was a dead beat. He wanted his
two dollars back. She gave it up, and he refused to
make a complaint against her, and walked about his
business, leaving the officer on the street without a
charge to hold the woman on. For this Cole was held
for trial.
“ CHIN ” DUTY.
Officer William Smith was charged by his rounds
man with being off duty, talking twenty minutes oy
more to a man on his post. Smith’s explanation was,
that a man engaged in the whisky business had been
discovered cheating, not only the government but his
creditors. The property w&s levied on by two deputy
sheriffs, who stopped him as he was walking his beat,
and said they were afraid that some of the debtor’s
f riends were going to take forcible possession of the
distillery, and carry of the property that had been
levied upon. He talked a few minutes with the
deputy sheriff's, when up came two government
officers, who said that they too had a claim on the
property for non-payment of license and dues. He
had to talk, as a matter of course, a few minutes
to brother officers for courtesey’s sake. When
they left, up came the man that owned the place in
dispute, who was pretty well lagered, and of course
he was very long winded. “ When I got a chance to
talk,” says Smith, “ I said, why didn’t you pay
your duties.” He said, “ you a nice man, bees.”
jtfr. Acton— That’s what the women say, eh ?
Smith — Quite the contrary, sir.
Mr. Acton — Well, if it had been a woman instead of
a man you would have been an hour talking.
Smith —That would depend on .
Mr. Acton— There is too much chin duty in the de
partment..
TOO COOL BY FAR.
Officer Wm. B. Nesbitt, of the Fourth precinct, was
on duty the morning of the 14th ult., that a co!d
blooded wife murder was committed on his post, and
although he saw the murderer Gottfried Wiebel flee
ing, he permitted him to escape. That was the
charge upon which he was placed on trial. On some
points the evidence was conflicting, on others not so
much so. About ten minutes to six o’clock on the
morning in question, screams of murder were heard
proceeding from the some house where Fenns killed
his wife ; a man was seen to fly out, and a woman
staggered out on the street after him, in her under
clothes, the blood streamed from her throat which
was cut from ear to ear, and as an officer came up,
unable to speak, she stood irresolute with her finger
pointing to the bloody throat, then fell upon the
pavement a corpse. Further on the street where
Nesbit was, the murderer (who has not been arrested,
and for whom there is a reward of SSOO offered,) pass
ed him on a biisk trot. A citizen came up and told
him of the murder. The murderer was
then a long way ahead. Nesbitt gave but one
rap and ran after him, and neither cried
“thief,” “murder,” or “Are” to excito a gen
eral alarm, nor did lie give the general alarm rap.
That was a grave mistake he made. It was within ten
minutes of relieving time, and he probably supposed
it was a common Fourth Ward brawl, and thought it
did not amount to much. He was only, in a measure,
following Mr. Acton’s advice given at the same ses
sion to an officer when he told him if he attended to
every tenement brawl in the Fourteenth Ward he
would have enough to do. Nesbitt, no doubt, thought
it a common-place affair, as he had heard no disturb
ance. The witness for the prosecution swore the
prisoner ran up Roosevelt street, but did not cross
over Chatham street into the Sixth Ward. Witnesses
equally credible swore that the fugitive did cross
Chatham square, and was lost sight of in the purlieus
.of the Sixth Ward. Mr. Acton insisted all along that
Nesbitt did not make outcry enough to head the mur
derer ofi. Neither he did; but, as we said, he no
doubt supposed it a common brawl.
WIDE AWAKE, SIR.
Officer Griffin was also called upon to give a defini
tion of sleep, explaining how he felt when under the
thraldom of the goddess. The roundsman who made
the complaint said: “I heard Smith breathing very
heavy, and he was leaning against a shutter at a soda
water stand, with his left hand on the water stand, so
—(imitating a man groping for a door-bell on .a lamp
pcst). He was inclined down. ‘ Good morning, Mr.
Griffin,’ said I. Ho made no answer. I then said,
very loud, ‘Good morning", Mr. Griffin,’ when he
raised himself up and rubbed his eyes, this way—(a la
Burton in “ Toodles” when he saw the door-plate).
‘ Good morning, sergeant,’ ho replied. I was rounds
man. ‘ Are you sick ?’ I asked. ‘ No,’ he replied.
Acton— What do you say to that?
Mr. Griffon— a word of it is true. I leaned this
way over the soda water stand, and felt of the lock to
see if -burglars hadn’t been tampering with the pad
lock. When he spoke first, I didn’t say anything;
but when he came up closer, I spoke to him, I was
neither laying down or sitting.
A brother officer corroborated this statement, and
swore that he had left Griffin but a lew moments be
fore the roundsman came up, and time had not been*
given him to snooze over.
WHY ANOTHER SMITH WAS HAULED OVER THE
COALS.
{Officer Smith was charged with leaving his beat and
going into a liquor saloon. Smith, it seems, is up
pNsitty often before the Commissioners, as the Presi
dent remarked: “Smith, you’ve had the best of us
prevty often; we will see how this easels.” Smith
admiXfeJd being seen coming out of a liquor store., but
said he S'as called in there to elect a drunken mtn
Mr. Wm. O Toole, proprietor of ilie liquor store, said
he called Bmitli in to eject a roan that wanted a
“horn,” aria as he thought he had got enough, he
declined to give it, and the man refused to leave.
Jfr. Actin— Kad he too much liquor in him ?
Mr. o’2'oole—Veil, he was pretty well “corned ”
The Sergeant—When he came out, he was drunk
Mr. Acton— That is bad, Smith. This is the worst
case we have had against you, yet, Why didn’t you
arrest him ?
Smith— The man was able 4o walk.
Mr. Acton didn’t think he was sober, or a Twenti
eth Ward liquor dealer wouldn’t have refused him a
drink.
PERMITTING BURGLARIES ON THEIR BEATS.
Officers Gloss and Bohle were charged with permit
ting a burglary to be committed on their beats in
Division street. The owner of the premises believed
the place had been broken into at about twenty min
utes to five in the morning. At five o’clock, the
officers said, they tried the door; at half-past five the
store was open, and the bar-tender said nothing of
the robbery then. Complainant admitted that to be
true.
Officer Patrick Dunn, of the 16th Precinct, was
complained of for the same dereliction of duty, by
Mr. Peter Brown. The place was locked up on Satur
day night, and between Saturday and Monday morn
ing the premises were entered by the rear and
robbed. The bulk of goods taken could not bo car
ried by three men. Complainant slept in the house
himself, but did not hear the burglars operating.
Officers Patrick H. Doran and Jacob B. Kern were
charged with a similar offense. Robert K. Graw,
proprietor of a liquor saloon, No. 57 East Houston
street, was the complainant. He said he lost a barrel
of whisky. Ho swore the padlock was burst open
with a jimmy. A padlock, in first-rate condition, was
produced, and sworn to as the padlock; the officers
said it wasn’t. Complainant couldn’t tell the night
he was robbed, but he supposed the officers could.
Mr. Acton —Could you swear to your whisky if you
saw it ?
Witness— Yes, sir.
Mr. Acton— Was it paid for ?
Witness— No.
Mr. Acton— Then you didn’t lose much. (Boars of
laughter.)
TFiinesx—But I meant to pay for it.
THE BLIND STAGGERS.
David Jenkins, of the Thirteenth Precinct, was
charged with being stupidly drunk by the roundsman
when on duty—so much so that another officer had
to take him in. After he was taken into the station
house, he threw down his shield and swore he would.
have nothing more to do with the department. In
the morning he changed his mind, and determined
to stand trial. Ho denied being drunk, and accounted
for the staggers from the effects of a beating that he
had received on St. Patrick’s day. Two how
ever, swore that be was under the influence of liquor.
Decisions in all cases were reserved. Mr. Acton
hears them alone, and the Board in secret session
passes upon thorn.
NOT WE HM.
Hew VorX Charities—The Bright Side ef Life.
The dark side of life, as exhibited in this city of
startling contrasts, is indeed a dismal picture, enough
to make the heart sicken and the soul despair, and
almost hold opinion with Pythagoras, that the nature
of brutes finds its way into the body of men, to de
grade and destroy them. Murder, lust and rapine
are the attributes of thousands among whom we
daily live and breathe and have our being, and the
worst forms of sin and degradation are found broad
cast in the community. In the homes of the rich,
beneath the portals of justice, even in the very shad
ow of the church and the school-room, may we find a
moral and mental deformity hideous to contemplate.
And to suppose that this condition of things is pecu
liar to any class or condition of our social system, is
A POPULAR FALLACY.
We know there is a popular and pervading disposi
tion in the minds of unthinking people to associate
crime and wretchedness with poverty. Such people
occasionally catch a glance at the slums of misery
and conclude that it is inseparable from dirt and
equallor. But it is a mistake to suppose that the vice
of drunkenness, for instance, is only found in the
kennel, crime in the rookery, or sexual impurity
among the gross and ignorant. Often, very often,
the tears of bitter anguish of the neglected wife
trickle through jeweled fingers, and the sorrowing
heart throbs against purple and fine linen. The ap
pearance of happiness is not always the accompani
mcnt of its material conditions, the casket doos not al
ways contain the jewel; we see the shadow, but look
in vain for the substance. Many a weary head vainly
seeks for rest upon a downy pillow, and vainly
yearns for peace amid the blandishments of luxury.
We are judges-of each other, and whom wo oft
most envy, we might best condole. All of humin
suffering and wrong is by no means confined to the
poor and lowly. Among the merriest of a merry
throng we sometimes find hearts oppressed with
care, eyes blanched with fear, and consciences per
turbed with doubt and dread.
ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS,
is an aphorism so hackneyed as in a great degree to
have lost its point, but not its aptness for illustra
tion, and such exemplifications of its truth as attend
upon the daily experience of all men, who take the
trouble to think, should carry with them lessons of
wisdom, teaching us to bo
“ Never elated, while one man’s oppressed, •
Never dejected, while another’s messed.”
And where the clouds most lower on us, to remember
that there is a silver lining to them all, and that good
or bad are but relative terms, and being so regarded,
the evil we so much deplore and so justly, only leaves
to the good, we may rejoice in about the same propor
tion that the chaff does to the pure grain. In Short,
we are not so bad as we seem, but we give a promin
ence to evil, it is dragged from the hideous darkness
in which it would conceal itself. The captured cul
prit is.made notorious in newspaper paragraphs; he
is elevated to seeming consequence oy forms and
ceremonies, which but too often awaken a morbid,
maudlin sympathy in his behalf, and the greater the
enormity of his offence the more notorious he be
comes. But after all, how insignificant in amount,
great though it be, is the bad as compared to the
good. Evil is not natural or universal, it is excep
tional and abnormal, and it is only through meeting
it os we do, in enormous aggregate, that wo mistake
its character. Honesty is not a subject for eulogy,
because we dot regard it as exceptional.
The just, the good and generous, are not singled out
for special commendation because we expect to find
men good, just and generous. But if we but take the
trouble to consider the enormous preponderance of
virtue over vice, of good over evil, of integrity over
falsehood, we should bo apt to accept the condition
of things with fewer repignings over the dissolute
lost condition of week humanity. Temples of wor
ships and learning that in every direction raise their
spires to heaven forbid the thought that we are all
wrong. The busy marts of trade, the crowded
wharves of commerce, the work-shops and fac
tories where industry and enterprise join hands
and works for the world’s best good, should all fill
us with “ wonder, love, and praise,” and while we
should never fail to deplore the existence of ill doing
we should banish the idea that evil preponderates.
To strengthen our faith in the world’s fidelity, what
a lesson we may find in the missions of good that
everywhere abound in this city. Look for a moment
at those twin temples oi human goodness that adorn
and even sanctify the locality known as the Five
Points, that recently reeked with all the foulness of
iniquity, and scattered both moral and physical pol
lution throughout the city. Had there not have been
a large preponderance oi good in the world, such a
change as nas marked the past decade of our city’s
history could not have taken place. But vre also see
in every direction throughout the length and breadth
of our island, and all around it, evidence of progress
reform, and humanitarian effort. The protecting
hand of benevolence is ever open and
ready to aid the sick and suffering, • the
aged and the indigent, the orphan and the widowed.
Charity may not, does not, perhaps, always reach the
mark at which it is aimed. It is directed from its
true purpose by hypocrisy and deceit, by knavery
and fraud, but it is something to know and feel that
it is always ready for its mission. And when we read
the many and well authenticated accounts of the
drunkards reclaimed, the children rescued, strangers
assisted, families relieved, homes reconstructed and
made happy, is it not a good offset to the sin, shame
and sorrow we so justly deplore ? Who can contem
plate, without reverential gratitude, the history of
any of our city’s noble charities, such, tor instance,
as
THE HOWARD MISSION?
It has before been alluded to in these columns, and
its beneficence of design and working cannot be un
familiar to our readers. We refer to it at the present
time to show what progress it has made during the
six years of its existence.
Its special mission has been the redemption and
care of the
CHILDREN OF THE STREET
that may be found in all directions, homeless and
friendless, except as the ministers of charity shall care
for these orphaned, or worse, abandoned children by
those who should be their guardians and protectors,
this institution takes them in, feeds, clothes and edu
cates them for lives of usefulness. To Rev. W. C.
Van Meeter, A. C. Arnold, Miss M. A. Kies, the Miss
es Wallace, Ryder. Stark and Perkins, with a few
other kindred spirits, belong the noble honor of pro
jecting and carrying forward this great work of re
form and humanity. And well satiefied with the
fruits of their toil, they labor as unremittingly, as en
thusiastically as at the outset, and seem never weary
of well-doing.
During the period of its existence, the Mission has
fed, clothed, and educated some eight thousand chil
dren, every one of them a brand snatched from the
burning—an army of little ones gathered from the
streets of the Metropolis, whose lives seemed to have
no other termination than the Almshouse or the
prison. The Mission has bean sustained at a cost of
£20,000 per annum, which has been most generously
fioatributed. We rejoice, as we believe every gener
ous nature will, in the knowledge that this noble in
etita,tion is in a most flourishing condition, with
plenty of money and hosts of friends. New, conve
nient, ajid more commodious quarters arc soon to be
iui’Dishccv and grand career of usefulness opens up
Parbss antr
NEW YORK, SUNDAY, MAY 5, 1867.
to the generous souls who have undertaken the care
of these friendless little ones.
But we design no invidious distinctions. The How
ard Mission is worthy the highest commendation,
but there are scores of other institutions no less wor
thy of commendation, encouragement, and support.
They all reflect honor upon our race, and attest, in
the face of the many evidences of wrong which every
where confront us, that the spirit of good far out
weighs the evil, and that mankind, in tne aggregate,
even in this sinful city, with all its wicked surround
ings, is not so bad as it seems.
tert of
S'*
BEFORE JUSTICES KELLY AND DOWLING.
There were thirty-five cases on the calendar yester
day, of which eleven were for larceny and twenty
one for assault and battery. The general run of the
cases had little of interest in them. A number of
people were fined for throwing straw in the street
which they had found in houses that they had re
cently moved into. Several street hawkers of shad
were fined $lO each for offering their fish for Eale
without having them cleaned according to law.
HOW PRISONERS ESCAPE FROM THE TOMBS.
Several men confined on the charge of felony have
succeeded in making their escape from the City
Prison last week In a very mysterious manner; and
so cleverly has the thing been done, that the officials
could not account for it. Yesterday a slight insight
into the modus op«rctndi'came to light in the Sessions.
John Donohue was in prison, for assaulting
his wife Catherine; John Donohue waa also in prison
for stabbing a man. John, guilty of wife beating,
was an elderly man. John that used the knife was a
young man, about twenty-two years of age. At the
morning muster of prisoners to be tried in the Ses
sions, John Donohue, held on a charge of lelony, an
swered for the other John, and was brought into
court for trial. As soon as the ease was called, out
stepped John and took his stand at the bar, and up
came Catharine to the witness stand. She declined
to swear, she wanted him forgiven this time. The
Court paid sb* tedrti better be sworn. There was a
great disparity between their ages, and the Court
asked her if the prisoner was her son, grandson, or
husband. “ Husband to be sure," she replied
was told to look at the prisoner, and De sure of what
ehe was swearing to. She did look, and sure enough
there was a John Donohue, but it was not her John,
Judgment came very near being suspended, and it
would have been had he been twenty years older.
Ho was remanded to prison, and the proper Donohue
was brought up and discharged at the request of the
wife.
WOMEN ON THEIR MUSCLE.
Jennie Slocum keeps a “ ladies’boarding-house,”
with whom Rosaline Britton had lived about eight
weeks, and finally left for a more stylish establish
ment, without paying Jennie the bill ehe owed. In
stead of paying the bill that had been incurred, she
abused her late mistress, and it was charged that she
told one of the ladies at No. 514 Sixth avenue, where
this occurred, named “ Jack Shepard,” that the first
time she met Jennie she would knife her. Not at all
afraid of the Knife, she went and dunned Rosaline,
when she w&s assaulted, and in self-defense she did
strike the complainant. Rosaline told a different
story. She said that a gentleman friend of hers
struck her, and because she did not have him arrest
ed, Jennie said she would lick her, and she so did.
Jennie was convicted and remanded for sentence.
CRUELTY TO COWS.
Matthew Rudden keeps a couple of cows in a low,
dirty basement in Fifty-sixth street near Avenue A.
The cows are never permitted to see the light of day;
their heads are tied down to within teu inches of the
floor to make them “paceable;” the filth in the
basement is never cleaned out, as there is no place to
put it if taken out. The consequence is, that the
cows are all broken out in sores, but the milk
from these cows is retailed as fresh country milk, at
twelve cents a quart. Samuel H. Laney, the de
tective of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals, testified to the condition of the cows and
the basement, and Officer Maloney corroborated
Laney. Defendant never gave his cows an airing. It
w&5 doubtful if they had seen the light of day since
they went into the basemont, and their feed was swill
brought from distilleries. Rudden was fbund guilty,
and fined $lO.
A SPIRITED WOMAN.
On the third of April, Bartholomew Campbell had
soma company at his house, and at about ten in the
evening he conveyed his friends to the door. After
they left as he was passing Mrs. Susan McOory’s
door, she camo out with a broom-stick and thumped
his head and body shockingly, and broke hie arm.
He solemnly averred that up to the commencement of
the assault he had nover said a word to the woman,
and while she was boating him the husband stood
by, and said, “ give it to him, Suz, there is no law to
punish a woman for licking a man.” She did give it
to him, and after he got away, he wont next day to
court to get & warrant, but on entering the court he
met a lawyer, who said he would do all his legal busi
ness for $7. He gave the seven asked, and the lawyer
sent for the woman, and getting five dollars from her
ho dropped the case. The next witness testified that
Bart., that night, was drunk; that he knocked at her
door, and questioned the paternity of the child she
Earried, doubted her virtue, and designated her char
acter by a five-lettered word ending with an “e.”
Provoked beyond endurance, she did hit him with
the broomstick, but not very bad, or he would not
have kept the neighbors awake till 3 o’clock In the
morning by his fuss and noise, Susan was found
guilty, and fined six cents.
THROWING A DOG INTO THE RIVER.
Paul Shearer had a dog, and kept it two years. He
liked it very much, he said, but it was subject to fits,
and sometimes frothed at the mouth. Shearer was
afraid the dog was getting mad, and posribly it might
bite somebody. To put it out of harm’s way, he took
it on board one of the Hoboken ferry-boats, and when
tne boat was half-way across he tossed the dog into
the stream, and left it to avrixa for life. These were
the facts in tha case, upon which Shearer was arrested
and locked, up. The Court found him guilty of the
charge—cruelty to animals—but suspended judg
ment.
CRUELTY TO A HORSE.
Patrick Whalen, driver of a Ninth avenue stage,
was charged with cruelty to a horse, by Officer Phil
ips. It appears that the horse slipped and fell. In
getting the horse up, the officer saw a sore about the
size of half-a-dollar on the leg of the animal. Whalen
was arrested on the charge of cruelly driving a horse
in this condition. He was found guilty, but judg
ment was suspended.
SE. .ING LIQUOR TO A MINOR.
Charles Williams was charged with selling liquor
to a minor, on the complaint of Officer Edwards. The
proof wao that when the boy was sent on a message
for the gin by a woman, the mother stood by and did
not stop him. The case was dismissed.
The Importance of Pbeservino City
Documents —A Lesson.— As a general thing, but too
little care is taken of city documents. The incon
venience and positive injury which may result from
carelessness in this particular, finds a forcible illus
tration in the experience of the city of Brooklyn.
Some years since, when the city of Williamsburgh
was consolidated with Brooklyn, the old city govern
ment was broken up and transferred to the latter
city. A vast number of papers, comprising the pub
lic documents of Williamsburgh, including tax-lists,
mortgages*, judgments, and other evidences of im
portant transactions, were all gathered together and
deposited indiscriminately in an unoccupied room in
the Brooklyn City Hall. There they remained un
cared for for years. Ono day, some of the officials,
being in want of just such a case as contained these
documents, appropriated It, and emptied the contents
upon the floor. There, scattered about loose upon
the floor, were books and papers that have since be
come of the utmost value; but nobody had charge of
them, and the janitor of the Hall, considering them
as so much rubbish, that only encumbered room that
could be put to better use, consigned them to a
junk-shop, whence they found their way to the
paper-mill. Time passed on, and in the course of
events some of these books and papers were wanted,
but could nowhere be found. They contained the
only proofs of transactions involving the right to
valuable possessions. Vexatious litigation ensued,
and, through this act of indefensible oarelessness, the
city has already become involved to the amount of
nearly a quarter of a million of dollaz-s, and when or
where the trouble will end no one can tell.
Stephen H. Branch Once More
Erect.— To the Editor of the Dispatch: I was sun
struck in the quarry, and got rheumatism in my cell
at Blackwell’s Island (during my Incarceration for
alleged libel in 1858), from which I have partially re
covered, and I shall traverse every street, from the
Battery to Harlem, for advertisements for newspapers,
at their present rates of insertion, for which I hope
to realize commissions that will produce subsistence,
and, in a few years, enable me to independently re
turn to the habitation of my birth, in the beautiful
city of Providence, Rhode Island, and finally descend
the steps of my father’s sepulchre, and sweetlyrepose
by his side, with the best record I could preserve, in
my terrible conflicts with sinners, on my journey
from infancy to eternity.
STEPHEN H. BRANCH.
Heroic Conduct.— At the burning
of the packet ship Hibernia, which occurred last
week, an instance of heroism was exhibited that de
serves to be univereally extolled and forever cher
ished among the daring deeds of daring men. One
of the firemen, among several others who were thrown
down and severely stunned, was surrounded by
flames, and would have been in a few moments be
yond the reach of escape. A colored man named
Smith Sawyer, steward of the ship, rushed into the
flames, seized the wounded man, lifted him in his
arms as he would a child and hurled him into the
water, and jumping after, sustained him from sink
ing, until both were drawn out This heroic act was
witnessed by hundreds of persons who declare that
he saved a human life at the imminent risk of his own.
Such a feat should receive a substantial recognition.
‘ “SHADOWING.”
, " 4
ffl im m tb ®.
The Continual Struggle Be
i tween Them.
.
TRACKING A FORGER—A NEAT
JOB.
A REMINISCENCE OF THE
REBEELION.
A LONG AND DANGEROUS
“ SHADOWING.”
IN. PERIL IN DIXIE.
A THIEF. FOLLOWED 50,000 MILES.
TEE DMSEEt ASD DIFFICULTIES SUR
ROU3DI3S THE LIFE OF & DETECTIVE.
There is a continual war going on between the
criminal and the representative of Justice—the thief
and the detective—the wronged and the wrong-doer—
the one to avoid detection, the other to detect; the
one to commit crimes, the other to prevent its com
mission; and, although these two elements of society
are as antagonistic to each other as fire and water,
and though the one knows that the other is keeping
ow, vlooo £r>az > t axx Jala «JYCF IHCliail GltJ, tv otcll
him and send him to prison, even the gallows, yet
strange as it may seem, the best of feeling outwardly
appears to exist between these two extreme types of
society. Nay, what is still more strange, though this
silent warfare is forever going on, they have that sort
of respect for each other that two gladiators have who
meet for the first time in a prizb ring, measuring
strength and chances.
This strange anomaly is easily explained. The
thief considers his calling a science, and the detec
tive’s business he looks upon as a mere piece of me
chanism, or at best, a profession that requires more
legs than brains. When ho associates with a detec
tive, knowing him to be such, it is a sort of conde
scension on his part; -he looks upon him as his infe
rior. It is the business of the professional thief to
be skillful enough to avoid arrest. If he is foiled,
then he has himself to blame, and it is only detective
luck to catch him. When the “shadow” is success
ful, the thief never attributes it to want of skill on his
own part, but to treachery on the part of a confidant,
or through some blunder that he has committed him
self; and thus it is he soothes his pride by under
rating the ingenuity of the officer. He looks on the
police department in general as so many Rip Van
Winkles, that he alone can waken up out of their Jeth
argy by some startling crime.
There is considerable truth in this; fbr, notwith
standing the high physical, moral, and intellectual
standard, as well as other et ceteraa necessary to get
an appointment, it is self-evident that, after even
thirty days’ schooling of inspector’ Leonard, all who
got the office are not qualified to fill it, or there would
not be from fifty to a hundred subject every week to
stand like criminals on trjal for dereliction of duty.
Nor is every man fit to be a policeman qualified by
nature to be a detective, and but few detectives are fit
to do “shadow” work successfully, that is, take a
man when he leaves the house in the morning, follow
him every where during the day, note who he speaks
to, with whom he drinks, and sometimes hear the
conversation, take him back to his home again it may
be far in the morning, and see him safely in bed.
This is no easy task.
AN INSTANCE.
A banking-house down town was suffering from a
series of embezzlements, but so cleverly were they
done that out of the five-and-twenty clerks behind
the desk, suspicion rested upon one as much as the
other, and the directors were at a loss who to blame,
who to discharge, or who to retain. To fix suspicion
on the guilty party more surely the directors deter
mined to have every one in thoir employ “shad
owed,” to ascertain their habits, how they spent their
time and money, and with whom they associated,
and if they resorted to gambling houses, to ascertain
the moneys they lost. But there was one clei-k that
the “ shadows” could not get, r,nd ths bank direct
ors could not tell where he lived. It was necessary
that some one other than a shadow should <o in the
bank and have a look at the clerk, and as he left the
institution follow fiim out, and “give him away,” as
it is called, to ths detectives. All that this individual
had to do was enter the bank, talk to a director, make
a sham entrance Of $10,003, look at the clerk, return
tp the directors* rbom, sit there until the clerk left,
follow him out, raise his hat to indicate that that was
the man they should follow. We undertook that
business to oblige the “ shadows,” and became pro
tern. detective, intending to aid in an hour or two,
“shadowing” byway of amusement. When the
clerk came out of the bank we followed him not
much over a block, for at Frankfort street he turned
suddenly round, and we were obliged to walk past
him into French’s hotel, but we c&me out the same
moment again, the door had hardly closed, before we
emerged on the sidewalk, but no clerk was in view;
he could not have turned down Spruce street in time
unless he had done it with locomotive speed, and his
sudden disappearance was a puzzle. Ashamed of our
skill as a “ shadow,” we turned on our heels and went
about our business. Next morning we learned the
way in which we had been sold. The clerk when he
“doubled,” as it is called, retraced Ilia steps and
dropped down into the barber’s shop, under Tam
many Hall, where he remained about three quarters
of an hour. This was a tough customer to shadow.
Ho was irregular in his hours, was a great pedestrian,
lived on the outskirts of Brooklyn ana sometimes in
dulged in a gam® of rackets. Hia irregular hours,
however, were explained by his approaching mar
riage, and the racket game had been recommended by
his physician to counteract tile evils of a sedentery
profession.
A CONFIDENT SCAMP.
Some time ago, a very expert forgery was com
mitted on the Chemical Bank. So adroitly was it
done, that not until Dr. Reese, of Union Square, had
occasion to present a check, was the frkud discovered.
A description of the person who presented the forged
order led the Doctor to examine his book, when he
found that the last page of his check-book had been
very cleverly abstracted, and one of the chocks had
been filled in by somebody who was well acquainted
with the signature of Dr. Reese. Suspicion immedi
ately rested on Robert B. Kinney, a young English
man, who had been in the Doctor’s employ ae &
coachman. At first it was thought impossible for a
coachman to be able to accomplish such a neat
forgery; but, as was afterward ascertained, Kinney
was a professional forger in England, and on arriving
here he merely took the situation temporarily, that
he might obtain a batter knowledge of the country.
A warrant was immediately issued for his arrest, and
the case was given to Mr. Matsell, ex-Chiaf of Police,
who detailed Mr. McGrath, one of his men, to hunt
up the forger. Kinney had no friends or relatives in
the country, nor had he left any likeness behind him
to give the detective a better clue to recognize him, if
they chanced to meet. All that the officer had was a
very imperfect personal description of the forger.
After a month’s patient search through the city, an
Englishman answering the description of Kinney was
found and “ housed.” The detective still doubted
that he had found his man, and he commenced the
earnest work of “shadowing,” to make certain of it.
For three days and three nights he never lost track of
him, following his footsteps by day and tracking him
home at night, and remaining hours to be sure that
he was asleep, then up again at the house long before
the forger could possibly have got out of bed. On the
fourth day, fully satisfied that he had found Kinney,
he arrested him and lodged him in the Tombs.
This is what we would call good detective business,
picking up a man in the city who had no friends, no
haants, whoso name had been changed, and whose
appearance had been altered considerably since he
had played the coachman, and better than all, the
“shadowing” was good, without a break, continued
day and night for four days, and all alone, without
assistance.
KINNEY DENIES HIS IDENTITY.
As soon as Kinney was lodged in the Tombs, Dr.
Reese was sent for, and.he went into the prison, and
saw his old coachman. •
“ Ah! Robert,” said the doctor, looking at Bob
through tho iron bars of the cell; “ they have got
you at last.”
“ Me, sir 1 What do you mean, sir! I don’t un
derstand you, sir!” exclaimed Bob, with much in
dignation.
“Ha! ha! that is a nice joke, Robert, and you
mean to say that you never acted as coachman for
me.”
“Do you mean to insult me, sir,” exclaimed Bob,
stretching himself up to his full height, “ Your name,
sir, if you please.”
“Dr. Reese.”
“Look at me, doctor; well, you never saw me in
your life.”
Dr. Reese did look at the scamp sometime, and
finally came to the conclusion that his coachman was
still at large, and that the wrong man had been ar
rested. He called on Mr. Matsell and told him so, but
the old chief knew better, and he sent the paying
teller of the Chemical Bank down to the Tombs, and the
moment he talked and looked at Bob he identified
him as the forger. Kinney was afterward tried and
convicted, and is now serving his time in Sing ping
OFFICE, NO. 11 FRANKFORT ST.
A REMINESCENCE OF THE REBELLION.
On a very warm sultry day in the latter part of
June, shortly after the outbreak of the rebellion, a
friend of ours was passing down the Sixth avenue,
about nine in the morning. At the corner of Six
teenth street, he met Detective Irvine, of the Twentieth
Precinct, leaning carelessly against the wall.
“ What’s up, Irvine?” was the natural query.
“ I’m in a fix,” was the reply.
“How?”
“ There are & couple of men from Georgia on here
for the purpose of making purchases for the Confed
erate Government. I would like some one to help me
on the ‘ pipe ;* I’m all alone, except these two ‘ kids
(boys) that you see playing there, and the fellows
know or suspect that they are ‘ shadowed.’ ”
Our friend agreed to give the officer a lift, and
when the Georgians emerged from the house, the
“ shadowing” commenced; the two boys took the lead,
the detective keeping in eight of the boys. It was a long
walk down the avenue, through Washington parade
ground, in the centre of which they stood and looked,
back, to see if they were followed. When they passed
out of the park, the officer entered, keeping in sight
of the boys. The men then walked through Thomp
son street, up Canal into Broadway, down Broadway
into Nassau, down Nassau into Malden lane, then
through the narrow entrance of Gold street, where
no man could follow them, but the boys could, and
the boys were “ shadowed.” Half a dozen places in
the Swamp were visited, where several pegging-ma
chines were bought, and thousands of dollars worth
of shoe-leather. Off Broadway, accoutrements for
cavalry were examined and bargained for, and money
deposited in part payment. On one occasion, while
the detective stood at the Girard House, watching the
Southerners, who had entered a store in Chambers
street, the boys played “ tag” before the door. All of
a sudden, the boys gave the sign that the Georgians
had left the store by the Warren street entrance. A
brisk walk brought the officer up with the Georgians
at the Astor House, and at 5 P. M. they were arrested,
and next day consigned to Fort Lafayette. Had these
Southerners escaped detection, several hundred
thousand dollars’ worth of goods would have left the
city to give aid and comfort to the Confederate army.
One of these boys that played the shadowing so ably,
was not over twelve years of age.
A LONG SHADOWING.
Most unquestionably, the longest, most able, and in
some points the most dangerous, eventually crowned
with success, wa-s the shadowing of Nathan Maroney,
of Montgomery, Alabama, by the well-known Chicago
detective, Allan Pinkerton, and his able assistants.
The time occupied in “ shadowing ” was ten months;
the number of miles traveled working up the case,
fifty thousand; the number of detectives engaged on
the work, eight; the amount of money stolon, $50,000;
the losers and prosecutors, the Adams Express Com
pany. The money was all recovered, and in 1860 the
prisoner was sentenced to ten years in the Peniten
tiary.
THE ROBBERY.
Montgomery, at that time (1860), was the western
terminus of one of the express routes, Atlanta being
at the other end. The messenger who had charge of
the express matter between these two points had also
charge of the pouch, which was locked, but he had
no key to it His duty was simply to deliver it to the
agent in the coitoition in which he had received it
from the other agent
Maroney, who was agent for the company at Mont
gomery, received the money in question, found the
contents all right, put the packages of money, it was
supposed, back into the pouch, and forwarded it to
its destination.
A week after the abstraction of the $40,000 (SIO,OOO
had been stolen a short time before that), the loss
was discovered, and the company were unable to ex
plain how the robbery could, have been effected. The
character of Maroney and the messenger Chase stood
high in the estimation oi the community. A portion
of the previous life of Maroney having leaked out, it
was deemed prudent to “ shadow” him. It appears
that he had gone from Texas to Mexico as a volun
teer during ti at war, and hod joined a Georgiy com
pany. On his return home he became the agent of a
line of stages, was afterward treasurer of a circus
company, whose funds he embezzled, then a con
ductor on a Tennessee railroad, then assistant super
intendent of the road, finally agent of the Adams Ex
gress Company at Montgomery, Alabama, where he
ved in high style, far above his means. ’ He was a
great horse-race patron and better, and owner of
“Yankee Mary,” for which he paid $2,500. With
him horse-racing was a real passion.
TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS’ SHADOWING..
Maroney started from Montgomery on ostensibly a
pleasure tour through the South, and to gather up
evidence, as he said, of previous good character, that
he might give it at the coming trial; but it was sup
posed he had another object in view—the changing of
the stolen money into other bank bills, to destroy its
identity. It became necessary to deputize a detective
io follow him through all his journeyings. Thia work
was given to Mr. Rosch, now Government detective
at the navy yard at Brooklyn. He had no easy task
assigned liim, for Maroney had employed a man to
follow him and watch if he was followed. Thus the
‘‘ shadow” was “ shadowing” the “ shadow.”
On taking the train for Atlanta, Maroney rode for
two hours in the baggage car, then leaving it, entered
the passenger car, and took a close look at the face of
each passenger. At West Point they had dinner and
changed cars, when he again took a close survey of
the passengers. At Atlanta, Maroney was shadowed
to the Atlantic hotel, where Rosch kept him until
after the midnight train had left, so that he should
not give him the slip. Leaving Atlanta the next
morning for Chattanooga, Marnoney’s shadow was on
Ere look out for the detective, but he failed to see
him. At Chattanooga, Maroney remained several
days, and all this time the officer had to change ap
pearances several times so that he should not be dis
covered. He never got to bed until the last train had
left, and was always up long before the first train had
started.
TRYING TO GIVE THE OFFICER THE SLIP.
At Nashville he very nearly gave the officer the
slip. In the evening without any apparent prepara
tion, Maroney got on the cars as they were about to
move West, and gave his escort hardly time to follow
him, and then thia was accomplished at the expense
of his baggage which he had to leave behind him. At
Memphis Maroney, took the boat for New Orleans,
but when it reached Natchez he appeared to have
changed his mind, went ashore and was driven to his
hotel, but he apparently met with some disappoint
ment, for in a few seconds after he drove down to the
boat again and sailed on for New Orleans. Here he
remained a few days when he returned by boat to
Natchez and received a box by Express, which was
afterward ascertained to be a portion of the stolen
money, which he had sent to Texas and had returned
to him again under a fictitious name. From thence
he returned to Montgomery where he remained but a
few days and then he took passage for Philadelphia
with hl« wife ; thence on to New York, where he was
arrested and lodged in jail. When searched, none of
the stolen money was found tn his possession, hence
it was evident that the money was “ planted” some
where, and Mrs. Maroney was undoubtedly in the
secret, and when he returned South she was shadow
ed, but lost sight of sixty miles from Montgomery.
She was, however, traced to that city and
found secreted in a friend’s house in Mont
gomery and for four days and five nights
Rosch watched that woman’s movements, while
there were half-a-dozen men in that city
looking for him; and had he been detected, they cer
tainly would have lynched him. When she started
again to go North, he was so worn out in person from
fatigue, that those who had known him a month be
fore, could not have recognized him. He left Mont
gomery with her, and she with between thirty and
forty thousand dollars which she had formed into a
bustle.
The following incident will give some idea of the
work that a shadow has sometimes to perform: The
detective who was on duty at Jenkentown, Pa., watch
ing Mrs. Maroney’s movement, ascertained on the
evening succeeding her retir d that place, that she
was about to leave for Pb to take the cars
from there to Baltimore, on her way South. It was
absolutely necessary that this intelligence should be
conveyed to Philadelphia at once, so that she could
be “shadowed” there. Being without a conveyance,
the only one in the village having been secured by
Mrs. Maroney, the detective ran the whole distance
to the city—twelve miles—and reached Philadelphia
before she did. A few minutes sufficed to explain the
position of affairs, and at 11 o’clock that night Mrs.
Maroney was speeding Southward under the care of
the same party who had, unknown to him, escorted
Maroney North from Montgomery.
How the caea was worked up, the $50,000 recovered,
and how Maroney was convicted and sent to prison
for ten years, is not the purpose of this article to ex
plain. We have done all that we intended to do;
that is, show the necessary ability that is required to
be a detective, more particularly that department of
it which relates to “shadowing” individuals under
unfavorable as well as favorable circumstances, with
out, as well as with, assistance, as was done in the
Maroney case.
Auriferous. —No little excitement
was occasioned in this city, Brooklyn, and the neigh
borhood, in the early part of last week, by the re
ported discovery of gold deposits at East New York.
Some of the men employed in laying the pipes of a
new main for the Ridgewood water, are reported to
have discovered gold dust in considerable quantities
mingled with the earth and sand in which they were
excavated. As soon as the discovery was made known
the practical work of pipe laying was suspended, and
under the personal direction and inspection of the
five members of the Water Commission, the hunt
for the precious metal was vigorously commenced.
Very little has since been disclosed in regard to the
search, but if it fulfills the expectations of some of
the sanguine diggers we have an Eldorado in our
midst that will rival Pike’s Peak, Russian America,
or even California itself.
First Regiment National Guard.—
There was a large and fashionable assemblage of both
sexes, at the State Arsenal, on last Monday evening,
to witness a competitive drill between Companies A.
and F. of the First Regiment. The commands were
put through the facings, wheelings and marchings,
and the manual of arms, in all of which evolutions
both companies displayed a high degree of efficiency,
and the exhibition was as creditable to the companies
named, as it was gratifying to those assembled to wit
ness it. We think that such meetings cannot be too
often repeated, for they tend not only to promote the
efficiency, but the entente cordiale among our citizen
soldiers.
NUMBER 26.
[Original.}
LIFE’S ROSES.
By lu. XV. Bolste.

Gather roses while you may,”
Give to the past no sorrow;
The present is but for to-day,
The future comes to-morrow.
Life is but a Summer’s breath,
A passing sigh, a dream of death.
“ Gather roses while you may,” • u
Floating down Life’s river;
Swiftly glides your bark its way,
Turning backward never.
Life is but a rippling wave;
Naught is lasting but the grave.
“ Gather roses while you may,”
Give to the past no sorrow;
The dream of life is for to-day,
And death may claim to-morrow.
Life is but a floweret bright,
Which blooms at morn and fades at night
[Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 186 X
by George Ross, in the Clerk’s Office of tho Di tricfil
Court of the United States for the Southern District of
New York.]
feat s»cal fstorg.
OK,
New York Thirty Years Ago. t
BY Wll.’.lVH H. BVSHNEILI.,
AUTHOB OF “BEBTHA,” “AHMEEK, THE BEAVER|
08, THE OOFPEB-HUNTEB3 OF LAKE SUFE
BIOB,” “ THE BLACK ADDEB,”
“POISONED FOB LOVE,”
ETC., ETC.
CHAPTEB XXV.
A PLAIN CONVEBSATION—A TEBBIBLE KEVELA.
TION.
I
But one part of the purpose of Doctor Can
ning was accomplished when he had brought
the father and daughter together—the most
important yet remained. He must see Edmund
Caruthers, and have something more than a.,
plain talk with him, and he sought him, yet in.
vain, at his oflice. j
Well, however, it was that he did so, for he
learned that another meeting of the Directors
of tho Bank was about to take place, and
hastened thither. There he heard a full ac
count of the visit of the President to Caruthers.
For a wonder, he agreed that the best plan was
silence, for he was not accustomed to consent
that crime should be covered up in any shape.-
But what his reason vias for doing so, no onq
but himself knew. If he looked any deeper
than the rest, he was, for once in his life, re
markably reticent, and apparently satisfied—,
left the matter entirely in the hands of Mr.
Bullion, so far as he was concerned.
Very much, however, it increased his desire
to see Caruthers, and, finding that it was near
his usual hour for dining, .he drove to his fash
ionable mansion in Bond street, and inquired
for him.
“The master is not in,” was the answer ha
received.
“Of course not 1 Just what I expected 1 No
body is ever in when I want to see them, with
out they are too sick to crawl,” was the impa
tient and characteristic response.
“ The mistress is in, sur. Will you plaze to
see her?”
“Not now—not now. Her time will coma
soon enough,” and, jumping into his gig, he
was about to drive home again, when he saw
the very man he was in search of standing at
a little distance, and apparently upon the watch
for some one.
“ Hello, Caruthers,” he exclaimed, as ha
reined up to the spot where he was standing,
apparently concealed by a lamp-post. “ Hello,
Caruthers 1 Jump in ! I was just looking for,
you—have been to your house.”
“ You will have to excuse me, Doctor. I can
not go to-day. lam ” He could not well
explain that he was watching his own wife,,
and so ended the sentence with, “ I am ver/
busy.”
“ I should think so 1 Yes, I should think so,
from the looks of things,” was the laughing re
tort. “But I will take no excuse.”
“ You will be obliged to do so—this time.”
“Not a bit of it.”
“But I say yes.”
“Pshaw 1 my business is of far more import
ance than anything vou can have on hand, and
I will not be put oft?’
“You are mistatam, Doctor: I am engaged
in something of the most vital importance to
me.”
“And holding up a street-lamp to accom-,
plish it 1” I
“It is useless to argue the point. I tell you,!
that I shall not go.”
“ And I tell you that you will.”
.“ Wo shall see.”
“ What is your business, pray ? Are you
waiting here for vour wife, or——” <
“My wife! What do you know about her ?” '
“ That she is a very beautiful woman,” Was.
the far from satisfactory answer. '’S' L
Caruthers looked into the face of the old
physician, and vainly endeavored to ascertain!
how much he knew. As well, however, mights
ha have attempted to have read the riddle
the Sphinx. Even the power of CEdipus would
have failed in solving that face when there was
a secret to be kept. <
“What made you think that I was waiting
for my wife, Doctor ?” he asked.
“Nothing—nothing ! It was only a fancy,
knowing how gallant you young men are. But,
come, jump in. I want to see you on particu
lar business.”
“ Once more, I cannot go.”
“ And once more, you must.”
“But I tell you—”
“It is I that am to do the tolling,” and ha.
sprang out and fairly lifted him in, and drove
away before Caruthers had time to help him-'
self.
“ What do you mean by this ?” the banker
asked, in astonishment.
“ O I nothing—nothing I”
“ But I look upon it as an insult.”
“You won’t after a while. Simply a little
matter of pleasantry on my part, to give you an
agreeable surprise.”
“ Then you will please put it off until another
time. I am in no mood for practical joking/
Stop your horse and let mo get out, or I shall,
call for help.”
“ And get laughed at for your pains.”
There was truth in that, and he felt it. Who
would believe that a well-known and respected,
physician like Doctor Canning would attempt
to kidnap a man in broad daylight ? The idea
was preposterous 1 And so Caruthers aban
doned the plan, and asked again :
“ What is your business, Doctor ?”
“Just wait a few minutes.”
“ But, where are you going ?”
“ You will see soon ; and I tell you that yotl
will be most heartily surprised.”
“For the last time, I ask—l command you to
stop.”
“Go on, Charley I”
And the physician laid his whip over the
back of his fleet horse, and hurried him for
ward. ■!
There was something in his eye—something
in his stern manner, that boded his companion
no good. Jump out he dare not, at the speed
they were going, and he shrank from calling
for help.
“How much longer is your drive?” he asked
again.
“ We’ll be at the end of it in little less than
no time.”
But, after that response the doctor resolutely
kept his lips closed like a vice until he reached
his own door, dismounted, and ushered in his
perforce guest (who had a great fancy to run
away, as the clerk and lawyer had done from
him, and would, perhaps, have attempted it,
had not the physician’s wife been looking from,
the window), and gave the most strict orders
to his servant that he was not to be disturbed,
“even if the whole city was dying 1”
Showing the banker at once to his privat®
room—the laboratory, that had been the scene
of so much that was wonderful in his profes
siosion, and of which the world had not the
slightest inkling—the doctor pointed sternly to
a seat, and, after locking the door and placing
the key in his pockai, took one near, and
plunged at once in medias res into the con
versation, but blurting out the startling and
unwelcome assertion:
“ Edmund Caruthers, you are a villain, sir!’*

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