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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, May 19, 1867, Image 1

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The New York Dispatch,
C2’‘A SECOND EDITION, containing the latest news
from all quarters, published on Sunday morning.
The NEW V ORK DISPATCH is sold by all News
Agents in the City and Suburbs at TEN CENTS PER
COPY. All Mail Subscriptions must be paid in advance.
Canada Subscribers must send 25 cents extra, to prepay
American postage. Bills of all specie-paying banks taaen
at par.
Hereafter, the terms of Advertising in the Dispatch
will be ae follows:
WALKS ABOUT TOWN 30 cents per line.
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 (line.
Special Notices by the quarter will be charged at the rate
ef one dollar and twenty-five cents per line. Cuts and
fancy display will be charged extra.
Brooklyn.—“ "What is the requisite
r age, and how can a person get appointed to the Military
Academy at West Point? I suppose it requires a great
deal of influence, but if it all depends on that, I do not
think much of those who have rhe power of appoint
ment.” An applicant for admission to West Point must
‘ be between the years of sixteen and twenty-one. Each
Congressional District in the United States is entitled
to one cadet, and there are twelve annually at large.
The first of these are appointed on the nomination of the
members of Congress from their respective districts, and
the latter by the President. There cannot be more than
250 cadets at a time. As but about one-fourth of these
r are appointed every year, there is, naturally enough, a
very strong competition, and the person bringing the
greatest influence is most likely to succeed. “Brooklyn”
•will find in his travels through life, that it is not the best,
the fittest, the honestest, the noblest, who get the good
things of this world: he who can produce the best back
ers and the most powerful friends, generally outstrips
the man who has only brains, intelligence, honesty, and
ability to recommend him. This is the world. Are we
good enough to condemn it, because it fawns upon pros
perity and frowns at lowly merit ? How many of us are
righteous enough to throw the first stone? It is some
what disenchanting to be made aware of this sad fact
early in life, but it will work its way to your view no mat
ter how much you may wish to close your mind to the
Three Beaders.—“ Ist. Will you
please give the following recipes: What remedy should
be sought to cure weak eyes ?” If the eyes are naturally
weak, medicine will do them no good; and the best
thing to do, in such case, is nothing whatever, save to
• avoid using them much in reading or writing. If the
weakness is the result of sickness, go to the Eye and Ear
Infirmary, corner of Second avenue and Thirteenth st.,
immediately, you will there receive the very best treat
ment. Do nothing for your eyes on the recommendation’
of friends, without you wish to become blind “2nd.
A recipe for curing ingrowing nails on feet ?” Pare and
scrape in the centre, and in time the nail will stop grow
ing at the sides “3d. A recipe for curing corns?”
Bind raw garlic upon the corn “4th. A recipe for
forcing the mustache and beard to grow?” Time and
. patience “sth. A recipe for dyeing the beard?”
Apply to a barber for this. It isn’t in our line “6th.
A recipe for a good hair oil?” Take 8 oz. of purified
marrow, melt it in a glass or stone-ware vessel, and add
Ua oz. of fresh bay leaves, 1 oz. of orange leaves; 1 oz. of
bitter almonds, % oz. of nutmegs, oz .of cloves, and 1
dr. of vanilla, all bruised; cover the vessel and let the
whole digest for 24 hours, with a gentle heat; strain
while hot through linen, and stir it as it cools.
Hastings.—“l contend that Hast
ings, a watering-place of England, is the scene of the
battle of Hastings. Are there any remains there of cas
tle, etc., of William the Conqueror’s time ?” The Battle
, of Hastings was fought at a place called “ Battle.” which
, is a few miles northwest from Hastings. The town re
ceived the name of “ Battle” in consequence of being
built upon the battle-ground where Harold and his Sax
ons were overthrown by William and his Norman follow
ers. The battle was fought on the 10th of October, 1066.
The following year William commenced the erection of
an abbey on the site, the high altar of the church being
placed, as is stated, on the spot where Harold was slain.
The ruins of Battle Abbey stand on a gentle rise, and are
about a mile in circuit. There are no ruins of ancient
castles in either Battle or Hastings of the time named.
J- B.—“ Ist. Please inform an old
«• subscriber to your paper what is the proper pronuncia
tion of the word trysling ?” In the word the “y” receives
the short sound of “i,”as in April. It is ueculiarthat
this word is not in Walker’s, Johnson’s, nor Webster’s
dictionaries “ 2d. Which do you consider the first of
the Summer months?” June, of course. It’s pretty
well settled in this locality that there won’t be any Sum
mer weather before June this year.
W. J. M.— “l have an old paper,
published in Philadelphia in 1787, called the Pennsylvania
Pad:et and Doily Advertiser, which contains the original
Constitution of the United States in full. Please state
the value of this paper, if you have any idea ?” We can
not state the value of the paper. A seeker for antiqua
rian curiosities might give $lO for it, while another per
son wouldn’t pick it up if it fell in his way.
Jf. A.—“ What is a cent of the year
1798 worth, and where is a place in the city wnere they
buy such coins?” Our life has been too much absorbed
» by labor to allow us to be well posted in mere matters of
4 dilletanteism, and wo are unable, therefore, to give you
the required information. Perhaps some of our readers
who take an interest in numismatics, can furnish us with
the answer.
Vigilance.— “ Please inform me when
the first man was hung in San Francisco by the Vigilance
Committee?” The first man hung in San Francisco by
the Vigilance Committee was a man named John Jen
kins, an escaped convict from Australia. He was hung
between the hours of two and three o’clock on the morn
ing of the 11th cf June, 185 L
White Plains.—“ Ca.il you tell me
when the Croton Aqueduct was commenced, and when
completed, and whether the darn was ever swept away?”
z- The Croton Aqueduct was commenced in 1335, and com
pleted in 1842. The dam, being imperfectly constructed,
was swept away before the completion of the Aqueduct.
A Constant Reader.— “On what hand
and finger does a lady wear an engagement ring, and is
such a ring different from any other?” An engagement
ring is worn upon the fore finger of the left hand, and is
always a fancy one.
F. R.— lnquire at any store where
educational books are sold, and you can procure works on
book-keeping. It would be invidious for us to pick out a
special one for commendation.
Palmer.— Such females are received
at the Lying-In Asylum, No. 85 Marion street.
A Sneak Thief Sentenced to the
"B'XAIJb; FIvAOUxV roe Five Teabh— Tko Gets Fkee
5 through a Quibble. —AC the January term of the
* Court of General Sessions, George Sinclair, a fash
ionably dressed young man, twenty-two years of age,
who at the time of his arrest described himself as a
Dentist, but who is well known to our Metropolitan
Police as one of the smartest swell mob thieves in the
Metropolis, was tried and convicted before City Judge
stealing a valuable set of Jewelry, consist
ing of a brooch, necklace and earrings, the property of
the wife of Charles L. Jones, a gentleman residing at
No. 32 West 15th street in this city, by pretending to
be a dentist, and calling at the house of complainant
in that capacity, during the absence of Mr. and Mrs.
Jones, he succeeded in gaining access to the bu
reau, which contained the jewelry, and through the
* simplicity of a servant girl he succeeded in walking
; <>ff with the jewelry. He was subsequently arrested
by Detective Vaughan while in the act of attempting
to dispose of the stolen property, at the store of Henry
B. Melvill, of No. 176 Bleecker street. Upon this clear
state of facts, the jury had no Hesitation in rendering
a verdict of guilty, and Judge Russell thereupon sen
tenced the prisoner to five years at Sing Sing. The
prisoner’s counsel, Mr. William F. Howe, however,
Inoved in arrest of judgment that the indictment, by
k clerical mistake, laid the property as being that of
Charles Jares, instead of Charles Jones. The City
fudge, however, notwithstanding the motion, or
f Acred the sentence to be put iu execution, whereupon
Mr. Howe sued out a writ of error in the Supreme
Court, and obtained a stay of proceedings from Judge
Barnard. The Bill of Exceptions having been signed
by Judge Russell yesterday, the prisoner was brought
up on a writ of habeas corpus, and bailed by Judge
Miller, of the Supreme Court, pending the decision of
that tribunal, on the very subtle technicality inter
posed by toe prisoner’s counsel.
FMBffl BY 1 J. lllllAMffl.
Hie L f -fe of a Pokkemaß—Carrying Favor—
Saspscioss Characters TroUtag over a
Beat—More Citato Daly—How he got Tight
—A Sensational Policeman Serenading
the Moon—The G'DenoSiae to Court—A
Costly Shave.
The trials last Wednesday disclosed some very in
teresting secrets of inner metropolitan life, the po
liceman’s life in particular. A policeman gets $1,200
a year—a hundred, dollars a month—pretty good pay,
to be sure; but ho earns his money if he happens to
have a roundsman after him that is working for a
sergeantcy, or a sergeant drifting after a captaincy,
or an ambitious captain, of which there are a few,
working hard to get the “ Madman’s” place, or an in
spectorship, if Dilks should suddenly go off in a drop
sical spell, Leonard of consumption, Walling of the
disease of obesity, preventing him from attending to
his duties; or Foulk, whose death may occur by sui
cide at any moment, superinduced by remorse of
conscience. A big riot, in which some of the heads
may be suddenly taken off by resignation or other
wise, seems the only road to promotion for the ambi
tious. A big riot, like a big rebellion, brings in such
times great men to the surface.
Many of the cases tried have no business to bo
brought before the Commissioners. They are cooked
up chiefiy to curry favor with the powers'that be.
For instance: A policeman is “ shadowed” round his
post by the roundsman for hours. He finally sees
the officer called into a house to quell a difficulty.
The officer stops in the house ten or fifteen minutes,
and comes out. The roundsman or sergeant goes
round the post, and not finding the patrolman on it,
he enters a complaint against him of not being found
on his post. The first that the officer knows of the
complaint against him is a notification to appear be
fore the Police Commissioners for trial. These facts
appear, when the following scene occurs, and it is of
such frequent occurrence, that policemen should cut
this out for guidance.
Mr. Acton— What excuse have you got to make
Officer— l was on police duty.
Mr. Acton— That may be true; but did you report
that fact ? Did you tell the roundsman that.
Officer — No; he didn’t ask me.
Mr. Acton— He has no business to ask you; you
must tell him.
Officer—l was doing duty, but I did not make an
arrest, and when he said nothing to me I said noth
ing to him.
Mr. Acton —No matter; you should have told him
why your beat was not covered.
The duty of an officer is to report at the desk what
he has done if he is hounded; and when he does meet
the roundsman, the patrolman should tell him why
he could not be found. 11l temper on either or Loth
sides neither benefits the department, the city, or the
men concerned. A hundred men on trial every
Wednesday is the loss of a hundred men’s services
for that day.
Officer David Stevens, of the Twenty-second Pre
cinct, in hunting up some suspicious characters, was
hunted up himself in a very unexpected manner by
roundsman Austin, who charged him with coming
out of a yard in which it was unnecessary to put hi»
face in. In defence, Stevens said :
“ There is a large building being repaired, and it is
used as a store-house. I saw two men coming
down the street with a package, and they went into
this house. They stopped in there about ten min
utes, and I thought the thing suspicious, and I went
off my post to see what they were about. 1 went
into the building, but I couldn’t find the men.”
Mr. Acton— Perhaps yon did your duty properly, but
you failed to report this fact at the desk; here you
are charged with being off duty an hour. Wo want
to know where you were. That’s only fair. We sent
you to school thirty days; and thay taught you j our
duty there, and yet you make uo report of what you
speak of.
That does not. apply to Officer Houston, of Brook
lyn, but to the beat he patrofs, although roundsman
Shultz would have it so implied. Shultz charged
Houston with loafing and improperly patroling his
“ I deny the charge,” said Houston, very emphati
cally, “ I never stood trifling in my life.”
Shultz lost a big point, although he was nudged at
the elbow and prompted to ask if Houston didn’t do
considerable trifling when he was sparking the now
Mrs. Houston. Shultz was either too dull to catch
at the idea or he was, perhaps afraid of touching it,
as he might be walking over volcanic ground.
“I deny it,” said Houston. “I walked ninety
nine blocks in that time.”
The time given the officer to walk these ninetv-nine
blocks was exactly one hour and a half, but that was
not the complaint; he stood, it was charged, twenty
minutes on one block, and at that rate, Mr. Acton
said, it would take him two days to patrol his post.
George W. Winteis has got a six mile post in
Brooklyn. It took Roundsman Van Brunt three
hours to come across him. Winters said it took him
one hour and thirty minutes to walk arofind his post.
Sergeant Smith said he could do it in an nour and a
quarter. Perhaps Sergeant Smith could do it in
an hour, perhaps he could continue that gait
and look out for thieves, murderers and burg
lars, walk about twenty miles in six hours, get
relieved, turn into bod and think that the city
had boon (properly served by leg duty. Some
thing more than mere pedestrianlsm however is
wanted on the police. A mounted police is wanted
for the Burgh, then the patrolmen “can go it,” and
the sergeants and roundsmen can have the pleasure
of footing it. This case occured at the morning ses
sion. At the afternoon session, Mr. Acton said in
another case, if they could get ihe men it would be
desirable to have them on every second block iu some
portions of this city.
Officer Smith, a crusty old bachelor, was charged
by roundsman O’Brien with standing talking twenty
minutes to a female. One would have thought from
the manner of O’Brien that it was Mrs. O’B. that
Smith had been talking to all this time. That, how
ever, if it iwas the case, must have molified. O’Brien,
as Smith said he never looked into the lady’s face
and he couldn’t tell now whether she had a Roman or
a pug nose, whether she had down on her cheek,
chin, or jaw ; whether she was sweet sixteen or
withered shrivelled up seventy. It was a woman—he
supposed Smith was very modest. A difficulty, he
said, occurred in a house, a woman came out and said
she expected, murder soon, Smith said, “ Welland
that was all that passed between them. She stood
beside him for about twenty minutes while he was
waiting to do the heroic if it should be necessary.
He was not needed. After this explanation, Mr.
Acton was satisfied that it wasn’t Mrs. O’Brien that
Smitn had stood twenty minutes beside speechless
as a mute. O’Brien is also satisfied of that himself.
Officer John O’Donnell was charged with intoxica
tion while patroling his post in William street. He
was found by the sergeant in a maudlin condition,
half bent up leaning against a stoop. The sergeant
got the roundsman to take him into the Station House.
Defendent did not deny the condition in which Ire
had been found and told a story that has much of
truth in it, perhaps all of it is true. Three weeks
previous to this he had just got off the sick list; and
very foolishly he dined on greens, turnips and other
vegetables. He had a renewal of the old complaint.
Ashamed to beg off duty when he looked hale and
hearty he went out on duty suffering, but thrust in
his vest pocket a bottle of laudanum. He used that
too freely to alleviate his sufferings, when he was
overpowered, and all because he was ashamed to re
port himself indisposed, because three weeks before
he had been on the sick list—that was the trouble.
That false delicacy, or perhaps the desire to save all
the time that ho could, is now likely to load to the
loss of his position. He brought proof to substan
tiate his story.
David Long, of the Fifteenth Precinct, had a cu
rious charge preferred against him. Some horses
attached to a ran uwar from a tJabte an<i
dashed through the street toward Fourth street. As
the horses were careering madly along, Long jumped
out on the street, seized one of them by the bit, but
the other being unrestrained, he was tossed aside
like a feather by a big wave, and on went the horses
in their mad race. Somewhat chagrined at his fail
ure, he stood for a second a spectator of the scene.
He then started on a run, and here is the complaint:
“ He didn’t run quick enough. Throe other police
men were ahead of him, and finally the horses tipped
over, and a policeman that was behind him came up
after the carriage was made O. K.,and that police
man, that was last in at the race, mounted the dickey
and drove the carriage to the station house. Long
said the fellow wanted a puff in the papers, and it was
all done for effect, and that he was up as soon as the
other officer was, but when he saw his object, he let
him have it He dit not court newspaper notoriety.
Mr. Afton— You did very well to begin with, but
you didn’t show proper exertion afterward.
Officer Long— Here were three officers ahead of me.
You don’t want tie whole Precinct to run after a pair
of runaway horses ?
Mr. Acton— That’s—well—(scratching his head) —
officer Pillswordi. roundsman Dapple.
Pillsworth’scase vzas disposed ot in a few seconds,
and the mornbg session ended.
A party orfive-and-twenty Italians came over from
Brooklyn tie other evening, by the way of the South
Ferry, fix* of Whitehall and South streets. They
felt glori’iisly happy, and havmg nothing else to |
serenade they proceeded in chorus to turn up their
noses aid mouths to Luna. Officer Andrew H. Ash
mer, oflhe First Precinct, being a Dutchman, know
getterds (perha-pe lager) could not and did not appre
ciate -he vocal and UnguisiijEg far-fetched tonor-
isms of the classic sons of Italy, and he told them to
hush up or he would run them in for disorderly con
duct. Mr. J. H. Mcit, a Maiden Lane importer of a
merchandise more valuable than sardines, who, while
waiting for the ferry-boat, had gone into a saloon to
refresh the inner man with a “ saddle rock,” came
out very uatui illy to hear and admire the serenade to
Lima by Italia’s sons. At this juncture, up came the
officer, and ordered all hands to go ’long, or he would
arrest them for disorderly conduct. They all went will
ingly along except Meit, who stood on his dig. as an
American citizen. He was told to move on. Meit
said he had rights and thrust his card under the offi
cer’s nose to read it. The officer said he did not read
cards by moonlight, and ordered him to move on.
Mr. Meit feeling insulted told the M. P. to perform a
certain function that more properly belongs to the
Board of Health, turned on his heel and ran into the
Ferry house. He thought he was in the City oi Re
fuge when ho got there, but it was a delusive hope.
He was followed and as he dodged out at another
gate he was nabbed by another officer. He com
plained of the officer being drunk, he also charged
him with beating him unnecessarily ; the officer
proved that he resisted him, and in the struggle some
linen was soiled, that was ail.
Mr. and Mrs. Donohue lived at the time of the
making of this complaint against officer Copeland, in
Buchanan street. The two had quarreled, and Mr.
O’Donohue often accorded to her the rights of a ba
ligerent, whipped her, turned her out of the house,
leaving her to take the soft side of the curb-stone for
a pillow, told her if she came near him again that
night he would complete what he had started to do,
take the life out of her. He then returned to his
apartments doffed his clothes, bolted the door, turned
into bed and began to take a sort of revolving view of
his life. In the meantime Mrs. O’Donohue was found
by the police promenading the street with disheveled
hair, scanty garments, and these pretty well torn and
soiled with blood. She was asked the cause, when
she said the O’Donohue, her husband, had done
it, turned, her out in the street, and threatened to
take her life if she ever came within ten foot of his
bed again. Copeland said he didn’t think it was a
case that could be referred to Bergh, but, one over
which he had jurisdiction, and he went to the apart
ments of the O’Donohue to arrest him. Mr. O’Don
ohue admitted that be and his wife did have a little
difficulty because he had to kindle the fire and make
his own breakfast. This occurred on the 13th of
April. The O’Donohue said: Copeland and another
officer came to my house when I was in bed and they
told me to open the door; I said I was guilty of no
crime, and I should not do it. My wife had made a
charge against me, but that was nothing to the offi
cers or me, and I knew I was in my castle. After they
went down stairs, I changed my mind and opened
the door and said if they wanted me I was ready to
go. They came up and then I said I wanted to dress
myself when he hit me on the leg and said hurry up.
Well we got to Stanton and Cannon streets,
when b e stood still and wanted to wait* for
my wife to come along. It was only a ‘ few
steps to the station house, and I wanted to be
taken there. , I didn’t want to stand tliere*and when
I turned' round he hit me on the side of the head.
He was going to repeat it when I clinched him, when
he drew his pistol and fired three or four shots. When
the other officer came up I was bleeding profusely.”
The explanation of Copeland was short, and to the
point. The O’Donohue had threatened to commit
murder, and carried out his threat half-way. He
went to arrest him, did take him in custody, stopped
a few moments on the corner for Mrs. O’Donohue to
come un with the other officer, bo that all hands
might go together to the station house. The O’Don
ohue was a little more wiry than Copeland, and gave
him a cross buttock, in which he lost his club. A
fpiend of the O’Donohue picked it up, but instead of
returning it, gave the officer a poke in the side with
it. Finding that he was getting the worst of the
fight, he drew his pistol and fired in the gutter for
assistance. The report of the pistol brought officer
Gleason on the double-quick, and he came up in time
to prevent the O’Donohuc punning out the eyes of
Copeland while he lay on top of him. These were
the facts in-the case, as gathered from both sides.
Curiosity is sometimes a costly failing in human
nature, as was shown in the case of Guy Kennedy,
whose leg was broken very simply on the night of the
25th of December last. Two arrests were made that
night, the one shortly after the other. John Keeler,
a young man who was brought in for garroting, was
followed by quite a number of friends, and another
man named Riley was brought in on his heels from
Twenty-second street. Kennedy, who was slightly
under the influence of liquor, crowded the station
house step, with others, to interest himself in busi
ness that didn’t concern him. Officer Johu C. Jack
son was sent out to clear the stoop of the station
house. All but Kennedy left the steps, and, when
standing on the last step, not going quick enough,
Johnson gave him a push, vzhich caused him to fall,
and, falling, he broke his leg. This laid him uo for
several months. It was evidently an accident. Ken
nedy admitted that he had no business on the stoop;
that he did not know the garroter that had been ar
rested; that he stood on the last step when he was
pushed, and that he had drank considerable liquor
that night. Jackson was told that it would be adj isa
ble to pay Kennedy’s doctor’s bill (S4O) to begin with.
What was to follow, Jackson is left in doubt.
The astonishing number of burglaries committed,
in which no arrests are made, can only be ascertained
by listening to the complaints made against offi
cers who are charged with negligence of duty if a
burglary is committed on their posts. Officers Webb
and Crook, of the Fourteenth Precinct, were charged
with failing to discover a burglary that had been
committed at No. 510 Broadway. The place was
closed at six o’clock on Saturday night, the burglary
was not discovered till the store was opened on the
morning of Monday. Three loads of silks, velvets
and ribbons were taken from Mr. Johnson’s store, for
which he offers a reward of SI,OOO. The thieves took
their own time after effecting an entrance, as was
shown from the way they selected the goods, and the
number of cigars strewed around the floor. The en
trance was made through the scuttle. They first
broke into a shoe manufactory, and encased their
legs in fine French calf-skin boots, leaving behind
them three pairs* of old brogane. Some of the work
shop tools were seized, which helped them to force
open the scuttle of No. 506, but after they got this
scuttle pried open, they found their progress barred
by au iron grating. They then went to No. 510, and
pried that scuttle open and committed the robbery
complained of. As the thieves’ operations were con
fined entirely to the roof it was impossible for the of
ficers to know what was transpiring. Captain Garland
said there was a block of stores in his precinct, con
taining hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of
goods, that he could walk into and rob from the rear,
and no policeman could detect him, The block indi
cated is on Broadway, but at the request of Mr. Acton,
who thought that it would only be an advertisement
for thieves to know yzhere to go and steal, we refrain
from indicating the place. According to this theory,
thieves read the newspapers, but honest men don’t.
Both men should be kept ignorant of the present po
sition of affairs.
The store of Mr. Johu McCurry, in Third avenue,
was broken into at twenty minutes to five in the
morning. The thieves took a basket of champagne,
leaving, however, one bottle in the basket, with the
compliments of the modern Jack Shepards. They
also appropriated to themselves a small cask of supe
rior Scotch whisky. Officer Broughton said he tried
the door at three o’clock in the morning, and it was
all right. His beat, he said, extended from Forty
second street to Thirty-eighth street. He had eight
blocks on both sides of the street to patrol. On his
boat he had one hundred and forty-three store doors
and fifty-three basement doors to try each time that
he passed them. He thought his beat was altogether
too long in that part of the city.
Mr. Acton— l think so, too. Two blocks would be
enough if we had the men.
Mr. Bukhart keeps a tailoring establishment at No.
397 Fourth avenue. Officer Randall was on that beat
on the 2d of May, when the place was broken into by
thieves. The officer tried the place that night three
times, and found it all right. At twenty minutes
past three the place was perfectly secure; at ten min
utes past four the officer found the shutters lying on
the sidewalk and the glass of the windows broken.
He thereupon sent for Mr. Bukhart. When the store
was examined, all the goods were found in the win
dow undisturbed; so were the rolls and bales of cloth
on the counter; but away in the back part of the
store S2OO worth of goods were taken out of a closet.
l>a‘e. Signal. Location.
2Aay 11, 5:37 P. M. 64 47 John street.
11, 7:26 “ 146 457 Broadway.
“ 11, 9:10 “ 218 Rear 477 First avenue.
’ 12, 5:28 A. M. 71 226 Spring street .
“ 12, 9:40 “ still 288 Sixth avenue.
“ 12, 11:03 “ “ Foot of 131st st., N. R.
“ 12, 12:05 P.M. “ 710 Third avenue.
‘ J 3 ’ “ 162 West 28th st.
14, 1:06 A. M. 131 26 West street.
“ 14, 1:21 “ grill 160th at. and King.
_ _ bridge Road.
‘ 14, 3:11P.M.- “ 23 Thomas street.
“ 14, 8:11 “ 36 208 Greene street.
“ 15,* 1:00 A.M. still Rear 7 Mulberry st.
“ 16, 4:03 “ 365 False Alarm.
“ 16, 4:05 “ 125 46 South street.
“ 18, 7:30 “ still Cor. 23th st.and Cth av.
“ 16, 7:40 “ “ 457 Sixth avenue.
“ 16, 1:25 P.M. “ s£th st. bet 7th ave.
and Broadway.
“16, 4:08 “ 31 57 Bowery.
“ 17, 8:to “ 31 Rear 60 Mott street.
“ 17, 8:20 “ still 21 Bowery.
An apparatus has just been introduced at the Me- I
tropolitun Hotel for the purpose ot giving an alarm !
in case of fire. The principle of the invention is the
release of a bolt by tue expansion of metal—the ex
pansion being caused by an undue increase of tem
pera ture^—which sets a bell ringing, which w/ll ring
until attended to, and stopped. An annunciator is
added, so that in hotels the room and in all large
buildings the point at which the fire originates can
be seen at a glance. The metal is very sensitive, so
that the burning of a paper or curtain is sufficient to
set the alarm in motion. It is said to have met the
approval cf a number oi gentlemen qualified to pro
nounce upon its utility.
met as usual, on Wednesday last, but the business
transacted was mostly of a routine character.
The following resolution was presented by Com
missioner Galway, and adopted by the Board:
dlaolved, That all appointments as Assistant Foreman,
Foreman and District Engineers shall be made only from
the ranks of the Department, selecting only such as have
shown by their meritorious conduct the qualifications
necessary for such positions.
Three members of the department were, by a vote
of the Board, dismissed from service, for being un
der the influence of liquor while on duty. The strict
discipline now being enforced should admonish the
men to exercise discretion as well as zeal.
On Tuesday last the following named gentlemen
were elected as Commissioners of the Brooklyn (W.
D.) Fire Department for the ensuing year: Felix
Campbell, Walter Barre, A. B. Thorne, Wn, M. Boe
rum and Robert G. Bergen.
Their J2o«le of Hating a Liveliitood—Their
Ilaußts and Habits—A Stranger £aec in
the FJetropoiSs.
The population of New York is of a strangely min
gled character, but perhaps there is no ckss more
distinctively peculiar than the people known as rag
pickers, the knights of the basket and hook, collect
ors of such unconsidered trifles, as are beneath even
the contempt of other peeple, however poor or low in
the scale of humanity. Chiffoniers the French call
them, byway of dignifying their pursuit and recog
nizing the vocation, although those who follow it are
among the poorest of the poor, alike in la France
or in democratic Now York.
The number of chiffoniers in this city is estimated
at from three to five thousand. Their abiding places
are mainly in the Eleventh, and Seven
teenth Wards, and they abound in portions of Pitt,
Stanton, Sheriff, Columbia and neighboring streets
and avenues on the East side, and constitute a dis
tinct and notable class of metropolitan population.
Dirty—a term is generally understood—to the
last degree, apparently steeped in poverty to the eyes,
injudiciously industrious, and turning to some ac
count every atom that can be made to yield even the
smallest source of revenue. They are dealers in the
infinitessimal, and illustrate by their lives upon how
little human existence can be sustained, and show
that if we
“ Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man’s life is cheap as beasts.”
A city’s refuse is the commerce in which they deal;
old bones, cast-away rags, such as even tie frugal
housewife cares not'to save, bits of waste paper and
scraps of old iron, carefully plucked from the gutter
and the dust-heap, are the eagerly-sought treasure of
the chiffonier, and on this scant capital they live, and
strange to say, they sometimes thrive. It seems a
that leads to such pursuit. It involves long and pa
tient labor tor the most insufficient results, and while
there are fields to plow ’ and harvests to reap with
promised rich reward, it seems passing strange that
willing hands and strong right arms should be em
ployed in garnering up that from which humanity
would seem instinctively to revolt. Yet as we have
stated, there are thousands of persons, men, wo
men and children in this city of New York who live
on the scourings of the sewer and the streat, and
the business of the chiffonier is a recognized calling,
followed from childhood to old ago, transmitted from
sire to son, and constituting in its aggregation an im
portant branch of human industry. To illustrate the
extent of the trade, the capital it absorbs, and the
business energy and enterprise it demands, we need
refer to but one of the hundred and fifty dealers in
the city by whom it is conducted on an extensive,
scale. The firm referred to occupy extensive prem-'
ise3 in Park street, conduct the business in the
most thorough manner, employ a large cash capital in
the purchase of paper stock; have weighers, sorters,
bookkeepers and cashiers, and for aught we know,
the principals keep their carriage, and domesticate
their families in brown etone fronts. Why not ? Tiie
business would seem to justify it, though it comes
through such dirty channels, and in such a question
able shape. The business place of this iirai is one
of the principal
And wending their way thither through all Gie hours
of the day are scores of squalid, filthy, leglectod
men, women and children, a procession of poverty,
with baskets, bundles, and bags, and in reguhr order,
passing their little store of paper and rags tc women
in attendance, by whom they are weighedand cast
upon a rough heap that is piled from floor U ceiling.
The amounts paid out are from five to thirty cents to
each, and the aggregate paid in this way will range
from SSO to SIBO per day
The stock thus accumulated is next asserted by
women, and put up in bales of from five io seven
hundred pounds each, and sent to the paper-mills of
Western New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts.
The business of this one firm—and there are about
one hundred and fifty in the city doing a similar
business—exceeds a thousand dollars per day, or
nearly half a million per annum. It may, therefore,
be estimated that the rags, old paper, and general
refuse of the city, at least one-haif of which is gath
ered up by the voluntary scavengers of the streets,
amounts in value to millions of dollars, end consti
tutes a by no means unimportant branch «f trade.
of the class of peoplfi of whom we write are but com
paratively little known. Huddled together in vile
tenements, living and dying in the mids of dirt and
squalor, speaking a foreign tongue, and out seldom
extending their social intercourse beyond the limits
of their own miserable circle, they form apart of our
social system and body politic, and yet scarcely be
long to it. They have au individuality of their own,
and are a race distinct, separate, and alone. The
part of the city which they inhabit we have already
sufficiently indicated. The mode of life is lidefonsi
bly dirty, yet are they industrious and frugd to the
last degree. They follow more, perhaps, tian any
other people, the maxim of Franklin, of “ Get all you
can, and keep all you get.”
Their hours of labor include all the hou® of the
day or night, the scenes of their effort any wiere and
everywhere whore the merest moity of worti can be
picked up, begged, or stolen without risk. Early in
the morning they wander tlirough streets, alleys, and
by-ways, with eyes always fastened to the earth, a
humid rag, a scrap of paper, a rusty piece of ron, old
bones, all is grist that comes within their sght, and
into the hopper it goes, to be ground out in tie shape
of a few pennies. They haunt the docks and mar
kets, and scraps of whatever sort they can hy hands
upon, are their booty. At dead of night they follow
up the hunt, and strip dead walls of their piper cov
ering, spy into secret holes and corners. Snnetiines
they are requited for their pains, but oftene? not.
We have visited their homes, watched thrir opera
tions, questioned them of their gains, observed their
habits, and found them to be a worthy stucy for the
inquiring mind. Save in very exceptional ases their
earnings are very small as compared with he remu
neration for other descriptions of labor, i woman,
at picking up rags and paper, and dispodng of it
straightway to the dealer, will realize fromten cents
to a dollar per day; children from four to fourteen
v ears of age will do nearly as well, and at tines even
better, for they are in less danger of arret in case
they are detected in picking up things to wiich they
have no right. But, if the gains of these pople are
small, their expenses are correspondingly o—a oiice
of coarse bread makes them a meal; and in their
mode ot living they illustrate the facility wth which
humanity can be packed away. Crowded into illy
ventilated tenements, and surrounded by ilth, anil,
as it seems, every predisposing cause of disase, there
is still little sickness among them, and as a dass, they
are remarkable for longevity.
In a house in Sheriff street, we encounteed a man
and his wife, aged respectively seventy-six aid seven
ty-one years. For thirteen years they hal lived in
that house, which furnished shelter to ont hundred
and twenty-nine families, and yielded a pjbiceiy in
come to its owners. The inmates were all Aiffioniers,
hut the old couple referred to confined Uemselves
chiefly to bones. They picked them ihe gut
ters, gathered them around marketsp. slaughter
houses, or meat stands. Sometimes tne/ vere given
to them as a man throws a bone to a <bg. They
would pick them from swill-tubs or (list-heaps.
The bones thus gathered were taken hone and wash
ed, the best were used for soup on whietthe old peo
ple lived, or sometimes sold to other pople poorer
than themselves. The bare bones atteiundergoing
the iirocess of washing and scraping, wee disposed
of at twelve shillings per barrel, and fren two to six
barrels per week were collected by this .ged couple.
They had no relatives in this country, b.t seemed to
be happy and contented, and said theneghbors were
very good to them. Would they like t< go back to
their own country ? We inquired, “ ntf ’ they said,
v we are well satisfied, and to our inquirigas to what
they thought would become of them ii .he case of
sicuness or death, the old man smiled cmplacently,
and said, “goot Irins,” and the old womu drew froiu
the interior ol an old iron-bound chet, a greasy
i paper-covered bank-book, in which wesaw marked
i to her credit, one deposit of seven hun.red dollars.
I Sometimes these chiffoniers will operte together*,
I and by combining their efforts and systeiatisng their
! work effect a saving for themselves of a pod prvpor-
I tion of the profits which would otherwle to a large
extent go into the pockets of the large deiers.
They will take home at night the combined and
miscellaneous findings of the day, and sorting the
iron and rags and paper into separateparcels, will
dteiK>se of all to better advantage. Suchpursuits as
we ha ve described will be pronounced aitdthy in the
extreme, but in some of its
it would really seem beyond belief. We ire assured
[ by persons who must know the facts, tat many of
these chiffoniers follow the night scavengers, and drag
, from the excrement which they cart away bits of rags
which are found mixed with the filth. These are
washed, and thus restored to some approach to origi
nal purity, are sold from three to ten cents per pound,
and so far as they can accomplish it, these chiffoniers
will let nothing be lost. But"though among the most
; lowly, perhaps, in general estimation, the lowest
class of the community, they are neither a dangerous
nor a troublesome class. It is something in their
favor that the police know little or nothing about
them. But they constitute an element in our great
social fabric, and present a phase in Metropolitan life
that is not wholly destitute of interest
<s Give iae my Child,” the Despairing Cry
of a Mother—A Sait for the Recovery of
a Child.—Queer Testimony of a Physi
cian—A Child Born, and the Father the
the Only Patient—Professional Secrete.
Susan in search of her son, although a quiet domes
tic drama, naving none of that intensity pertaining to
“ Three Times Dead,” of the Miss Braddon school of
sensational romance, has both a touch of interest
and feeling about it that gives it a claim to more than
mere word mention. The case of Susan Mack
against Daniel Mahoney was alluded to last week in a
few brief lines. Miss Susan Mack sued out a writ of
habeas corpus to obtain possession of the child of
which she was the mother. It was another Moses in
the bulrushes. After the birth of the child it was
claimed at the outset of the proceedings that Mr.
Mahoney came into the room and took the child out
of the house in a basket, and hid it not among the
bulrushes, but put it somewhere—and that where
the to know. That’s the cause of the
present suit.
Daniel Mahoney, Ihe~respondent in this affair, left
old Ireland soma, years ago, and localized himself
eventually in the tin business in this city. The tin
brought him tin and he has now one of the most
• flourishing businesses in that line, on the Ninth
Avenue near Sixteenth street, that there is in the city.
The world having wagged well with him he sent over
to Ireland for Miss Susan Mack to become a governess
in his family. She was a girl of education, well fitted
to be a governess, and performed her duties faith
fully to the satifaction of all concerned. But it so
happened that Mrs. Mahoney was sent out of the city
for her health, and Miss Mack became pro tern.
It is a great mistake on the part of a wife to thrust
forbidden fruit under her better half’s eye. All will
not yield, some will, and in this case, if Susan
Mack i s to be believed, Mahoney feloniously encircled
her. She was as helpless in Mahoney’s kitchen as if
she had been in an Irish bog miles away from any
« habitation.
Here it is proper to say, that a very singular fact,
thrusts itself up to us as it must also do to the reader.
Mr. Mahoney was married, had a most intelligent
wife, an interesting family of four children, and yet
this strange accusation has been made. Mr. Mahoney
does not deny that he was decentralized, all the re
turn he makes to the writ is that he doesn’t know
where “Jim Mahoney” is, he may be alive x kicking,
and weaned. He is"a know nothing on that subject.
He does not deny that Susan lived with him, nor that
Susan had a child by him, or that he christened him
James, but the purport of his answer was he don’t
know where the child" is.
When the case was brought before his Honor Judge
McCunn, he believed that it was one of those pecu
liar suits that would be very tedious; there was much
to be said on both sides. Mr. Charles S. Spencer
didn’t object to a referee, he had a good defense he
said, and perhaps he has, as the case is far from
being finished, and it went before Mr. Andrew J.
Smith, corner of Beekman and Nassau street, as
refeiee. 0N THE STAND>
The first witness called was Lewis H. Bone, to
prove that a child was born. We give the examina
tion as it occurred. “ Where do you reside ?” “ No.
114 West Sixteenth street.” “You are a practicing
physician?” “Yes.” “Do you know Susan Mack,
now present?” “ Yes.” “Do you know Daniel Ma
honey ?” “ Yes.” “ How long have you known her ?”
“One month bv name.” “How long altogether?”
“Ten or twelve months,” “How long have you
known Mr. Mahoney ?” “ Some three or four years.”
“ Where did you first see the plaintiff—Miss Susan
Mack ?” “ I think at Mahoney’s house.” “ Was she
employed there ?” “ I saw her there.” “ What did
she seem to ba doing there?” “She was living
“ When did you first learn her name ?” “ The
first I knew of it I wont to tho City Hospital; there
had been some disturbance between him and her,
and I saw him at Jefferson Market Police Court; I
was called to see her by the name of Sullivan,
at the house in Spriig street, No. 285. Then
she was in Seventeenth street, or Sixteenth
street, in her brother-in-law’s house. Maho
ney was then in jail at Jefferson Market.” “Do
you know of her having & child?” “Yes.”
“And when it was born?” “ Yes; six or six and a
half months ago> “ Boy or girl ?” “ Boy. ” «‘ How
long did you attetwl Miss Mack on that occasion ?”
“Thirteen or foifrteeh.4#?ys.” “Daily?” “The
usual course.” “And occasionally after that?”
“ Who employed you to attend to that case ?” “I
received a note from Mrs. Sullivan.”
Mr. Spencer was here he might
object to this question, and I won’t press it. I won’t
go into the contents of the note. Who employed
you—Mrs. Sullivrn ?”
Dr. Bone—** I was employed.”
Mr. Macgregor— “ Did Mr. Mahoney employ you,
or have you any connection with that case ?” “ What
do you mean ?” “ First,swfecond, beginning, middle
or in any part of the affair ?” »“ If you ask me if I was
employed by Mr. Mahoney, I object.” “ Were you in
tho employ of Mr. Mahoney during any part of that
sickness of Miss Mack ?” “ I have been employed
by Mr. Mahoney for three or four years as his ‘family
“ Now, doctor, whore did you last see this child,
and how long after its birth ?” “ Ten or twelve days.
I saw it two weeks after its birth. It might have
been more or it might have been less.” “ Where
“In a colored woman’s room in Greene street.”
“In whose possession ?” “Is it necessary for me to
answer ? I don’t know the lady’s name; I only know
her by the name of Lizzy; she sits over there.”
“ Where was Susan Mack living then ?” “In Spring
street, No. 285. where the child was born.” “Did
you ever see Mahoney at that house, where the child
was, on Broome and Greene?” “ Yes; bat I object
to answering—l think it is drawing out professional
“Mr. Mahoney wasn’t your patient?” “Yes, he
waR.” “At Broome and Greene streets?” “Yes.”
“How often did you see him?” “I don’t recollect
more than once; he might have been twice.” “Did
he see the child ?” “I am under the impression he
did see the child; it was in the same room.” “ How
many times did you see the child ?” “ Two or three
times.” “ Did you attend professionally ?” “Yes.”
“Do you know where the child is now?” “I do not,
sir.” “ After you saw it at that house on the corner
of Broome and Greene, did you ever know where it
was removed to ?”
Dr. Bone—l object to answering that question.
Mr. Smith— lt would only be hearsay testimony at
the best, and is objectionable.
Mr. Macgregor— Did you ever hear from Mr. Maho
ney where the child had been removed to, from the
corner of Greene and Broome streets ?
Dr. Bone—l decline to answer, except ordered by .
and under instructions of the Court.
Mr. Macgregor— lt is proper evidence. She was the ;
patient, not Mahoney; hence he is divulging no pro
fessional secrets.
Dr. Bone—li I was employed by Mr. Mahoney to i
attend to this woman in her sickness, am I compelled 1
to answer ? I was never employed by her. I never 1
received a cent from her. Mr. Mahoney was my pa- i
tient. I was in Mr. Mahoney’s employment, and I ‘
object to answering that question. I never was em- <
ployed by her (Susan Mack). I wouldn’t stir out of i
my house to attend to her. t
Mr. Smith—L don’t see any objection to answering
the question. There is no child stolen. We are only
trying to find for the mother where it is.
W>r. Bone— l don’t know where the child is now. 3
Mr. Macgregor— Do you know where it was taken to ? f
Dr. Bone—l don’t want to answer. I don’t think I !
can answer. It would be opening professional se- '
crets. When I saw the child last it was well. <
The doctor was allowed to stand aside and keep the j
professional secrets with which he had been entrusted 1
by Mahoney. 1
was sworn—a colored lady who lived at No. 14X Cros
by street, who made her living by going out nursing
and taking in babies to nurse, white and black. Dr. i
Bone, the same day that the baby was born, sent for 1
her to take charge of the baby from No. 285 Sullivan
street, and she took it to her nursery. After she had i
kept the child five weeks, Mr. Mahoney and a nurse
; came to the house and took the child away from her,
j not in a basket, as has been reported, but in his
i arms; and more than that, she took the child down
to St Peter’s Church with Mahoney, and he stood by
and saw it christened James Mahoney.
This was the substance of the case of “ Moses in
the bulrushes” before the referee on Friday. In the
absence of Mr. Spencer, the case went over to' Satur
day, to give counsel an opportunity to cross-examine
At the proceedings on Saturday, Mr. Spencer ap
peared before Mr. Smith, the referee, and entered his
protest, on the ground that in a habeas corpus case it
must be heard in public, not in private, before a
judge, not a referee. It was a thing that could not be
referred. Mr. Spencer questioned the jurisdiction ol
the court. His objection was overruled.
Mr. Hope called Lizzy Jones, tho colored woman,
who was cross-examined by Mr. Spencer, but there
was nothing different from what she had stated elicit
ed. Mr. Hope then called Dr. Bone. Mr. Macgregor,
. as soon as the doctor took the stand, put the follow
ing question, which is of the utmost importance to
the medical profession, but, by advice of his counsel,
he declined answering, as he thought he was violat
ing his professional oath. “ Did you ever hear from
Mr. Mahoney where the child had been removed
from the corner of Greene and Broome streets ?”
The doctor was employed to attend to a woman, was
paid for all the services he had rendered to that wo
man by Mr. Mahoney. He was asked if he knew five
weeks after the birth 61 the child whore it went to.
He declines to answer, because he thinks that child’s
departure is a professional secret. A motion was
made to have him committed for contempt of court
or refusing to answer.
Here are the questions that Bone declined to an
swer :
, “ For whom did you prescribe, Susan Mack or Mr.
Mahoney?” “Did you prescribe for this child?”
’ “ After its birth ?” “ Did you ever understand from
Mr. Mahoney, the repondent, where the child of Susan
Mack, the relator in question, has been removed to
from the corner of Greene and Broome streets ?”
A motion was made by counsel to have the witness
committed for contempt of court, which was granted,
and this legal question will come up before Justice
McCunn, on Monday. It is a question that every
medical man has an interest in. The point is simply
this: Susan Mack had a child; the alleged father
paid the doctor to attend her; after its birth it is
made away with; they trace the child until it is five
weeks old, and then into the possession of Mahoney.
The doctor refuses to disclose where the child went
to, and throws himself on his professional rights. Mr.
Mahoney asked to be put on the stand, and did be
come a witness after it was understood that the ques
tion of the paternity of the child should not bo in
quired into. Mr. Mahoney swore that he did not
know where the baby was, and would not give twen
ty-five cents to know. At this stage of the proceed
ings an adjournment was granted.
One evening last week a Mr. Marshall F. Harris, a
resident of Connecticut, left New Haven for this city
on the Sound steamer Elm City. He was a stranger
on a strange boat, and he felt himself miserably dull,
and it was therefore with feelings of rapturous
satisfaction that responded to the friendly
overtures of a traveler who suggested a little
social intercourse. At the bar to which the couple
shortly went to take a drink he announced his name
as Francis H. Lyons, a native and denizen of the
modest state of Maine. He also stated that he was on
his first visit to Now York. The new friends were
soon on terms of close intimacy, pledged each other in
the best spirits that the bar afforded, and were
mutually colloquial and confidential. *At last came
the hour for retiring and Harris not wishing to part
company with his genial friend invited him to ehare
his state room, the invitation was accepted and to
gether they proceeded, to indulge in tired nature’s
sweet restorer. As soon as he awoko in the
morning Harris peered into the berth of his
companion and was surprised to learn that he
had gone. But a greater and more perplexing sur
prise awaited him, for upon further investigation he
discovered that his valise, containing $5,000, together
with some sheets and other toilet articles, had been
abstracted and carried off. This circumstance, cou
pled with the absence of the gentleman from Maine,
fastened suspicion upon that person, and the discov
ery put Mr. Hanis in a fearful state of perturbation.
But as the boat had been lying at the wharf for nearly
three hours betoro the theft was discovered, Mr. H.
concluded that it would be useless to attempt to find
his whilom friend of the night before. He therefore
resolved to return home, and for that purpose he pro
ceeded to the New Haven railroad depot to take the
cars. There he was again surprised more even than
before, for at the office, purchasing a ticket, he dis
covered the man who had victimized him. He
charged him with the robbery and handed him over
to a policeman. Before Justice Shandley, at the Es
sex Market Police Court, the gentleman from Maine
acknowledged the error of his ways, and offered to re
fund the money if allowed to go. But to this Mr.
Harris refused to concede, and Lyons, the mysterious
stranger, was locked up to answer.
A German named Henry Henwelt aged 35, and
residing at No. 74 Greenwhich street, was last week
arrested for the alleged murder of Mary Bisch a girl
21 years of age, who was employed as a waiter in a
saloon No. 4 Bowery. It seems that the girl had
been for some time living with him as his mistress,
and he, becoming jealous of her, visited her and after
quarreling, beat her in a shocking manner. Becom
ing still more infuriated with her he wounded her
with a dirk, inflecting injuries from the results of
which she died.
Two desperate house thieves, were on Monday last
detected in the act of breaking into a private house
in West Twelfth street, by officers Brennan and Hill,
of the Ninth precinct The officers were about attempt
ing their arrest, where the thieves were re-enforced
by four others, and a desperate conflict with the of
ficers ensued. The latter received rough handling
and several severe injuries, but were at last success
ful in capturing two of the thieves who gave their
names as Henry Wheeler and Charles Duggan.
An addition was made on Tuesday last to the fear
ful record of wife murders that have lately‘taken
place in thia city, the particulars being briefly as fol-
IWs: Mr. and Mrs. James McCaflery, both Irish, and
residing at No. 250 Tenth avenue, engaged, on Tues
day last, as was their frequent wont, in a desperate
quarrel. They had been married but a few years,
but had compressed in that time as much domestic
infelicity as would have served a dozen families for a
lifetime, and their dissensions appeared to increase
with the lapse of time. On the evening in question,
they had a terrible row, growing out of a difference of
opinion in regard to some religious rite. James
would frequently get tho worst of the argument, and
would then resort to physical violence, which he did
on the occasion referred to. He first beat his wife
until she was almost insensible, and then shot her in
the nock with a large navy revolver, and from the
effects of her injuries she died in a few hours.
McCaflery was arrested, and is now confined in the
Toombs on the charge of wife murder.
The monotony of life on ’Change found relief last
Wednesday in a highly-exciting affray between a
couple of curbstone brokers, named William F. Fall,
alias Harrison, and one Harry Newton. The difficulty
between them originated in some transaction in gold,
said to be not very creditable to either, and each took
a solemn oath to be even with the other, and governed
themselves accordingly. On Wednesday afternoon
the belligerents met in front of DelmoniSo’s, No. 22
Broad street, and the altercation was renewed in the
presence of a large crowd of spectators, fully prepared
to enjoy the fun. Fall was armed with a pair of
Deringer pistols and a box of cartridges; Newton was
provided with a navy revolver. Fall exclaimed : “ I
am ready for you 1” and Newton expressed a similar
state of preparation, and both blazed away, each firing
several shots without either sustaining any personal
damage; but a ball from one of the pistols took effect
in the abdomen of a Mr. Frederick T. Grace, and
doubled that gentleman up in a very uncomfortable
manner. Fall and Newton expressed themselves very
sorry for the accident, and offered to pay the doctor,
or the undertaker, if he should be required. But
Justice Dowling, before whom the belligerents were
taken, was not satisfied with this proposition, and
they were locked up for examination.
On Thursday night, Henry Davis, a native of Ire
land, became insanely possessed with the idea that
his wife Caroline had lived long enough in this wick
ed world. He had, it is alleged, for some time con
templated her funeral, and now-proceeded to get her
ready for it. On the night in question, at their resi
dence, No. 163 Avenue A, he commenced upon her
with a large knife, but Mrs. Davis succeeded, after a
desperate struggle, in wrenching the weapon from his
grasp. But the infatuated and infuriated man, who
disliked being thwarted in the purpose upon which
he had set his mind, next, resorted to a*six-barreled
revolver, with which he fired four times at his wife,
but neither of the shots took effect. Davis, disgust
ed with his non-success, and determined not to be
balked in the matter of the funeral, turned his atten
tions upon himself, placed the revolver to his head,
and emptied the remaining chambers into his own
brain. His purpose of having a funeral was fully ac
complished, according to his programme, with the
slight exception that .he instead of his wife acted
the role of the corpse.
Theft of a Watch.—On Friday
morning, Michael J. Brody, a boarder at No. 500 Pearl
street, missed his gold watch and chain, valued at
SIOO. Henry A. Gordon, an English seamen, who
occupied a room adjoining, was arrested later in the
day, and in his possession was found a pawn ticket .
for the watch, together with some money apparently
the remainder of the loan procured by him upon
the stolen article. The accused was yesterday com
mitted for trial by Justice Dowling.
Fell Through a Hatchway.—Yes
terday, John Kehoe, aged 22 years, employed as por
ter at No. 194 Fulton street, fell through the hatch
way at that place from the third to the ground floor,
and was seriously injured. He was taken to the New
York Hospital.
By Kitty Van V.
I -
Sweet Summer dies upon the distant hills,
i And all the valleys trail their splendor low—
Shivering, at last, with sudden fear and woe,
While sharp and clear old Winter’s summons go
Adown the rills.
1 And we must bury her beneath the leaves,
With solemn hush and funeral pomp and pride,
With fragrant incense spreading far and wide,
And royal mourning, in the cloud-seas dyed,
That Flora weaves.
But she will rise again, and wind her green
Along the slopes and round the forest’s lair,
Binding with fragile flowers her streaming hair,
Bidding our mother earth unfold the fair
So long unseen.
Only to me will Summer come no more—
My hope is dead; it cannot bloom again.
Yes, buried where so light It long hath lain;
Alone the ashes and the tomb remain
Of all before.
** Tlie Qtseen of tiio Caravan.”
Ericson Court was a very grand place, and
life was a very grand, solemn affair there. Vis
itors came and went in rapid succession, and
high-sounding titles were announced in those
magnificent drawing-rooms with a frequency
which made it quite difficult for the powdered
footmen to remember that such an individual
as a plain “ Mr.” existed.
Breakfast, luncheon, and dinner were repasts
which ordinary middle-class people found it al
most trying to go through; and, on the whole ; tlie
style was such, that even some of tho minor
stars of tho nobility wondered that Gertrude
Ericson did not sometimes long for a more
quiet and homelike home, and tire of that con
tinued round of magnificent stateliness.
But, if she did, Miss Ericson kept.it to her
self. She reigned with all the reserved dignity
of a young queen in her stately home; and, to
judge of tho aptitude with which, young as
she was, she fulfilled all the onerous duties of
hostess, her existence was one perfectly suited
to her taste and idea of happiness.
Gertrude might well, indeed, be termed tho
Star of Sussex; for, in loveliness, she certain
ly surpassed all tho fair daughters of England
who honored the Court with their occasional
presence. Her hair was of that rare golden
hue met with so seldom in life, but which the
old masters loved to give to their madonnas
and virgin saints; while, contrasting with the
creamy fairness of her complexion, her dark,
lustrous eyes glowed with all the fire of some
Oriental beauty.
Report said that Miss Ericson was good as
she was beautiful; but then report is apt to
hatter those whom Fortune favors, and few
will whisper evil of a beautiful girl who is heir
ess to a property of twenty 1 thousand a year.
Gertrude was liberal and charitable, truly, but
whether her liberality was prompted by mere
ly a haughty disdain of being otherwise, or that
spirit desirous of remembering that a “cup of
cold water” should not be offered in vain, we
do not undertake to say.
She had lost her mother—a lady of excellent
family—early ; and her father, Sir Philip, had
resided abroad during her early girlhood,giving
her little opportunity of acquiring a steady edit
cation. Ho was, however, a man of varied tal
ent, and his delight was to instruct his idolized
child; and had ho been but more stable in his
own principles, and steady in the pursuit ol
some definite course, Gertrude could not have
had a better instructor. As it was, he hurried
her from study to study, and often kept her to
those of which it would have been far wiser
that she should have known nothing.
Meanwhile, during his residence abroad, hs
spent little, while he speculated in the most
daring manner; and the result was, that he
increased his fortune in a manner that, when
lie returned to England to settle, he was nom
inally a baronet with twenty thousand a year,
but possessing secret resources of almost colos
sal extent.
That Sir Philip was a very peculiar man,
there was abundant evidence, both in hie con
versation and conduct. But few knew the ex
tent of his eccentricity, and when it was first
whispered that one of his whims was to conceal
the real amount of his wealth, and pass for a
poorer man than ho really was, no one believed
The almost regal magnificence of Ericson
Court, however, soon made all the world ac
knowledge that there must be something more
than a rent-roll of even twenty thousand a year
to uphold it.
Of course, the only child of such a man was
not likely to lack suitors.
Gertruda, before she was twenty, was be
sieged by offers from men of all ranks and
hopes ; but though some were eligible, she had
hitherto declined all, declaring that her pres
ent life suited her, and she was in no hurry to
change it.
At the time, however, we introduce Miss
Ericson to our readers, she was verging on
twenty-two, and it must bo confessed that a
“change had como over the spirit of her
A certain nobleman, heir to a marquisate and
a name, which, though not so wealthy as her
own, England was proud to enrol among those
of her heroes, had been paying her most de
voted attention ; and, for once, Gertrude found,
out that she, too, could flush at the sound of a
human voice, and listen with a throbbing heart
to the sound of human footsteps. As yet, Lord
Herden had never spoken of love—never open
ly declared even his preference for Sir Philip’s
beautiful daughter ; but if eyes that watched
her every movement—ears that listened for the
slightest sound that fell from her lips—could
speak any language, Cecil Herden told his love
over and over again.
And at length came a more direct communi
cation. It was the last day of October, just
fresh enough to make the sight of a fire in ths
breakfast-room pleasant, but not yet cold
enough to throw aside the Autumn silken wrap
per for the more ungraceful dress of Winter.
Miss Ericson, despite of her otherwise fash
ionable habits, was an early riser, and she al
ways breakfasted privately in her pretty bou
doir with her friend and companion, Madams
De Mornet, a young French widow, before de
scending to preside at the formal breakfast
table provided for her guests.
At this tite-a-ttte repast Gertrude read her
letters, discussed confidential matters with
Adrienne, and threw off the stately Miss Eric
son, to assume a character of genial grace,
which suited her as well.
“You are looking grave, my dear friend,”
exclaimed Adrienne do Mornet, as she lifted
her dark eyes languidly from her coffee cup to
the fair face of Gertrude.
“Then I am certainly verifying the copy
book truism, that appearances are deceitful. 1
feel anything but unhappy, for I have a letter
here which ”
“Ah! from Lord Herden?” interrupted
Miss Ericson almost started.
“How could you guess? Do you know his
writing ?”
“I know the coronet; but surely, my dear,
it was not very difficult to guess. One needs
no very mysterious power to draw a conclusion
to liis very evident attentions. Well, and what
is to be the answer ? Is he to be added to the
list of your rejected swains, or are we to have i
wedding at last ?” • A
Madame was a delicately made, rather pretty
woman, of some twenty-five or twenty-six
Her manner was exquisite, her tact the same,
and she was of considerate use to Miss Ericson
as a companion, and also in the fulfillment <jj
some of her duties of hostess. Adrienne pro
fessed an undying devotion to Gertrude ; bu| *
whether she was quite so sincere as the yoqng
heiress magnanimously believed, we are hot
Thefj was an p/pression about those

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