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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, January 17, 1869, Image 6

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LAST WORDS.
Can you not love me ?—I hear, not in vain,
But it comes suddenly, crushing out pain
Just for a little while. Deur, lot me speak—
No, not to pain you. Ah! think you I seek
Balm in your pain—in your pain for my own ?
Joy I would give you, but grief bear alone—
Hide from you. What if my heart ache and smart ?
Bet it. What matter ?—it is but my heart;
And if my heart is in any way dear
To me, it is that your image is here.
Thoughts of one least little pain that you bore
Through me, though sweet, would but make my pain
more,
Bove seeks not self, dear; I seek only you;
You in your happiness—would have you true
Thus to your heart. Oh, bo happy! for I
Uve in your light, in your darkness would die 1
Blame not yourself, who give nothing to me,
Wl.en I give all to you. Love is wind-free;
Blows wnere it lists, aud hearts cannot be bought—
No, not by love; so the love I have sought
You cannot give me. No, no, do not grieve,
jFor you give greatly. Ah! see and believe
All 1 have dreamed>of pure, gentie, and high,
All fair, and sweet, you have shewn to my eye.
[Original.]
FOUND DROWNED.
TILE LIFE OF A BOATMAN.
BY E. C. G.
Outside of the shipping community of the
port, they are but little known, although they
are a hard-working and industrious class. I
mean the boatmen. They are required to be
on duty at almost all hours, and in all kinds of
■weather, pulling te and from the various ves
sels while lying in the river, or at anchor in
the Bay, conveying messages and different arti
cles, as they may be instructed by their em
ployers. They are, also, sometimes engaged
in boating off the crews to vessels awaiting
their arrival, and aid in docking the different
craft on their coming into port, and in moving
them from dock to dock when requisite, by
drawing with them, in their boats, the ends of
the hawsers by which the vessels are made
fast to the slips and piers, and which is called
by them “ running linesand in performing
many other duties required of them by the
chipping. ,
There is no class of men more subjected to.
exposure and hardship, and who run greater
risk of their lives than they do. Floating in
iiis fragile boat amid the masses of ice during
the most severe days in Winter, encountering
its storms and intense cold, and subjected as
ho is to the other extreme, the great heat of
Summer, he becomes inured to hardships and
dangers; and, being brought in almost con
stant contact with all classes of sea-faring men,
he is himself a fearless and daring character,
and one whose courage and endurance can be
relied upon in a trying emergency.
One of our most prominent and wealthy citi
zens, whose energy and enterprise is so well
known, Commodore Vanderbilt, early acquired
a fearlessness and courage while following this
pursuit in his younger days. It is related of
him that when he was a young man, upon a
certain occasion, he was applied to by a Mr.
Gibbons, of the State of New Jersey, who asked
V. if he would take him in his boat from White
hall (at the Battery) to Amboy, all the other
boatmen thereabout having refused to go, the
weather being very severe, and a heavy swell
prevailing at ’the time. Vanderbilt’s reply to
Mr. Gibbon’s question, “Will you take me ?” is
characteristic of the man :
“Yes,” said he, “I will take you to h—l if
you will pay me enough?”
He was paid, and took Gibbons through the
•‘severe blow” to Jersey.
Afterward, at the solicitation of Mr. Gibbons’
son, he was placed in command of the steamer
Bolivar, the property of the elder Gibbons, and
from that time commenced his rapid and suc
cessful rise. A picture of the Bolivar, I am
informed, can be seen to this day, conspicu
ously hanging in the office of the Commodore,
in Fourth street.
The boatmen of those days have almost died
©nt, and they have given way to a new set of
less enterprising men. A few of the “old
standards,” however, can yet be seen on the
East river plying their avocation as of yore ;
and old Charley Henry, now seventy-six years
of age, still hale and hearty, occasionally
“turns up for a job.”
Among those of former years was Ben Til
den, a perfect type of the solid boatman of his
day, muscular and strong, healthy and cour
ageous. and well acquainted with the currents
and tides about New York.
Ben was engaged one Winter’s day-to attend
upon the ship Bengal, then lying off the Bat
tery, and about ready for sea, it being the in
tention for her to proceed on a voyage the fol
lowing morning.
.Tilden had just landed at the dock where he
always “laid up” his boat for the night, and
was- preparing to go home, when he was hailed
by the ship’s consignee and instructed to take
off to the vessel a sailor who appeared to be
about■“ three sheets m the wind,” and who, he
told Tilden, was the last of the ship’s compa
ny, and it was important that he should go on
board, that the ship might sail the next morn
ing with the full complement of her crew.
Ben’s day’s work bad been a hard one, having
macle many trips to her during the day, and
anticipations of a warm supper and a cheerful
greeting by his wife and children at home, had
been uppermost in his mind. Yet he could not
live by grumbling, and orders must be obeyed,
and the sooner commenced, the quicker ended,
thought Ben.
So, with the sailor seated in the stern of nis
boat, and a letter for tlie captain from the con
signee carefully “stowed away” in one of his
capacious pockets, he was soon ? with long and
heavy sweeps of his oars, making good head
way ior the ship, which lay well down the bay
toward Staten Island.
The night was a dark and unpleasant one,
and a damp fog which hung over the water,
did not much tend to dispel the gloom. e Ben
could' not distinguish the features of hfs pas
senger, who sat quiet and uncommunicative on
the stern seat. At length he broke the silence
With:
“ A dark night, shipmate.”
•‘ Yes, d irk enough,” growled the sailor. “A
nice night for to go on board a ship bound ter
fie a.”
“ What did you ship for, if you didn’t want to
go?”
“ Cause I owed money.”
•‘That’s a good reason,” said Ben. “Got
your advance, I suppose?”
“Yes-; and the man I boarded with may
whistle for his bill. Not a cent did I give him.
I’m ahead of him twenty dollars, any way.”
“ So you cat his food and slept in his house,
*nd didn’t pay, hey?”
“ That’s about it, boatman. He’s made
enough out Qi sailors in his time.”
“ That’s no reason you should run off with
out paying what ydu owe.”
“Well, I did anyways, and I’ve got my ad
vance in my pocket, and I mean to make it
clean. Look a here boatman, to come to the
pint, I ain’t going in that ship. You may as
■well know it fust as last. Yer better turn
Around yer boat, and put me ashore, or else
you and mo’ll have trouble.”
Ben knew sailors well enough to understand
exactly the state of affairs. The sailor had
tun away from his boarding-house in debt to
the landlord; had received his advance wa
ges, and intended, if possible, to “ jump the
advance,” as it is termed, and now desired to
get ashore as soon as need be with the un
earned money in bis pocket. He was evident
ly a hard customer, and would make an at
tempt to force Bon to turn toward tho shore.
But would he turn the boat? Not,ho. He
Valued his reputation too much; and beside,
the sailor had confessed to him his dishonest
Sntentions. He must go on board the “Ben
fal,” and no mistake. So thought Ben before
e replied to the seaman. ’
“ Sailor man, your a mean one; you’ve
robbed one man, and now you want to rob the
chip as well. My duty is to put you on board.
You’ve got your advance in your pocket,. and
you say you won’t go in the ship, and work
it out. Is that what you call square ?”
“Boatman, I don’t want to go to Liverpool.
I got in a scrape there a little while back, and
>t ain’t safe for me. I’ll give yer ten dollars to
put me ashore.”
While.this conversation was going on, Ben,
with strong and rapid pulls, was gradually
nearing the vessel, which he now so much de
sired to yeach, and whose lights he could see
glimmering faintly in the distance, as he cast
his eyes over his shoulders in tho direction
where she lay.
“bailor man keep your dollars. I don’t
want none of ’em. You don’t come fairly with
your money. Plain talk ‘ Bucks’* is my way,
maybe it’s yours. On board the ship ‘Ben
gal’ you must go.”
“ Bo you mean it ?”
“ As my name’s Ben Tilden !”
“ Then fight ior it I”
So saying the sailor, ere Ben could under
stand what he was about, sprang forward and
with a fierce clutch, grasped Tilden by the
throat, and pressed him closely against the
gunwale. The latter now struck the sailor a
heavy biow m tho face with his clenched fist,
having dropped his oars, while their combined
weight on one side of the boat upset it, and
both were now struggling for the mastery in
the water.
So suddenly had the desperado thrown him
self upon the boatman that he was in the
water, held, as it were, by a vice at Ins throat,
ere he could comprehend his dangerous situa
feon. Recovering somewhat horn his bewilder
ment, and not losing his presence of mind,
-Ben attempted to release himself from the
Bailor’s grasp. Being an excellent sailor, he
could,.he thought, regain the boat, and per
hnps reach the shore, if he could but shake the
villain off, having now given up all hope of
placing so determined a scoundrel on board tho
. fihip.
Blow after blow Ben inflicts upon him. The
Bailor tightens his grasp, keeping himself
afloat with his other arm. Tilden, almost
strangled, with his remaining strength now
directs a fearful blow at the head of nis advers
ary, and with the desired effect. Thank God,
be releases his hold, and Tilden, almost ex
hausted, rises to the surface, and makes lor
the boat, which he finally reaches, and suc
ceeds in righting her, and then, with his “ tar
paulin hat,” commences to bail out.”
- “That’s the most infernal cyptomer I ever
• Nickname lor rowdy sailoj,
had to deal with in my life,” spluttered Ben, as
the salt water ran from his mouth, and oozed
from his nostrils. “He’s drowned now, and
gone to his long home, and he almost took me
with him. A thief, and a would-be murderer.
A bad character, that, to die with.”
So musing upon his fortunate escape, and
his assailant’s terrible end, Ben found an oar,
and at last, by patient bailing and sculling,
reached the shore, thanking God for his pres
ervation.
Ben often said “that was tho worst night he
ever passed on the river,” and that he never
before thought himself so near terminating his
earthly career as upon that occasion, although
he had experienced many hair-breadth escapes
during his life.
The ship Bengal sailed next morning, one
man short. A few days after, over on the
shores of Governor’s Island, was discovered
the body of an unknown sailor, “Found
Drowned.”
[Original. 1
FRANK SEYMOUR:
OR,
Tho South in Secession Tinies.
Among the few Northern men who remained
in Mississippi after the secession of that State
from the Union was Frank Seymour, tho hero
of this adventure. He was a New Yorker by
birth—a handsome, dark-eyed, stalwarth fel
low, with broad shoulders and a bravo heart,
and had been a resident of Vicksburg for sev
eral years, where he occupied a good position
as clerk in an extensive firm of cotton brokers.
When the dark cloud of secession, that had
long been gathering so threateningly m tho
Southern sky, broke out at length into open
treason and defiance, Frank Seymour was
among the first to feel its violenee, for Frank
was a Northern man with a most contemptuous
opinion of the intolerant assumptions of tho
Southern secessionists, and had a reckless habit
of ventilating his opinions without stint or
prudence, and this in a community where every
political question put on the garb of remorse
less personal animosity, soon brought upon
him the active hatred of scores of implacable
enemies. .
One morning, while it was yet quite dark,
Frank, who occupied a room on the ground
floor of a house on the main street of Vicks
burg, was awoke by a cautious but persistent
rapping off the outside shutter of his window.
He immediately got up, dressed himself hastily,
and taking up his revolver, which was lying on
the table, went to the window and asked :
“Whois there?”
“Hist! Master Frank,” answered a voice,
which Frank immediately recognized, “it’s me
—Rollo. God’s sake, let mo in to once I”
Frank went to the front door, opened it qui
etly, and in glided a man, hatless, and dripping
wet, whom Frank followed into the room after
he had noiselessly ciesed and secured the front
door again. This man was Rollo Mathews, a
free negro, and an old acquaintance of Frank’s.
“ Well, Rollo, what is it?” inquired Frank,
lighting the lamp which was on the table.
“ God A’mighty’s sake. Master Frankl” the
negro exclaimed, in u state of great excitement,
“ git out o’ dis to once, de Regulators are arter
you sure. Gus Norton, too—de wust o’dem all.”
“The Regulators after me?— what do you
mean, man?” asked Frank in astonishment.
“I just mean dat, Master Frank,” said the
black, with, most convincing earnestness, “Gus
Norton’s company are coming for you, sure as
shooting. Th earn’em speak about it all in
master’s barn, whar dey put in from de storm.
A letter o’ your’n Iris. been found. Dey say
you’re a,spy and a Wide-awake, and, 'master,
it you don’t git out o’ here, dey’ll tar or shoot
you sartin.”
“A letter of mine found ?” cried Frank, put
ting his hand into his breast pocket, and tak
ing out a bundle of papers, which he rapidly
looked through. “By Jove ! you’re right. I
must have lost it. How many of them are
there?”
“Moro nor a dozen, all mounted. Lord,
don’t stop to fit ’em, dey’d riddle you like a
sifter in a second.”
“Where did you see them ?” Frank inquired.
“In Master Benson’s barn, right dar on de
Jackson road,” answered Rollo. “Yes, master,
I was hid in de hay and beam it all. Dey
called you a damn spy and a Yankee. Dey’ro
coming right on fur you, master. I rid hard
to git ahead of ’em.”
Frank took in his position in a moment. Tho
letter which liollo spbke about as having been
found, and which he now missed from his pa
pers, he had received some time ago from a
friend of his in the North, who was an enthusi
astic “Wide Awake,” and among many impru
dent subjects, it mentioned Frank’s own con
nection with the order. How he had lost it he
could not understand; but if it was in tho
hands of his enemies, as ho now had no doubt
it was, it would be cause sufficient in their
minds for any treatment of him, and Frank
Seymour had no intention, if he could help it,
of 'submitting himseif to the tender mercy of
the Vicksburg bravos.
He determined at once on making an effort
to escape.
“ Are there any skiffs at Big Bayou bridge,
Rollo ?” he asked, as he put fresh caps on his
revolver.
“Yes, master, two of old Jake’s, the fisher
man. I know whar he hide- ’em, sliuro.”
“Where?”
“Bight smart bit above the bridge. Master,
you never find ’em yoursef. I’ll ride with you
to tho Bayou, willing, Master Frank, and pint
’em out.”
“But if ths Regulators catch us, Rollo, they’ll
hang you.”
“Dey won’t kotch us, master, if wo git right
away. ’ I have the Benson mare, she can run
like a deer, and your boss Jeb can beat anyting
de Reglators hab.”
“Very well, Rollo, we’ll try it, anyhow,” said
Frank, ’who, although unwilling to bring any
harm on liis faithful black friend, saw that
Rollo’s assistance m finding a skiff would be
necessary to his escape. “Now run to the
stable, eaddle my horse, don’t make any noise,
and draw the girths tight,”
While Rollo was getting tha hor.so ready,
Frank hastily put his papers aad what clothes
he could, into a pair of saddle-bags. In a few
moments Iloilo brought the horse .to the door,
and then they mounted and rode quietly down
the main street.
It had. been raining heavily all the night, and
indeed all the day before, and miniature rivers
were sweeping down the streets of Vicksburg.
It was a regular Mississippi storm, the rain
coming down, not in drops, but in one continu
ous sheet, compact and unbroken, for hours
together.
Frank determined to take the road leading
toward the race track on the river bottom, and
follow it until he reached Big Bayou cieek,
about five miles from the city. Hero he honed,
with Bollo’s assistance, to be able to find a
skiff’ in which to reach the river ; and once in
the Mississippi, he could defy pursuit, and take
his chance in getting on board some upward
bound steamer.
They had ridden about ten squares when
they came lull upon a dozen horsemen riding
hastily down a cross street, but fortunately it
was so dark yet, and the horsemen were mak
ing such a clatter themselves, that they were
not observed.
That this was the party sent to arrest him,
Frank had no doubt, and be was just felicitat
ing himself on his narrow escape, and had
reached the next street, when right round tho
corner came a single horseman brushing by
Frank so closely that their knees touched.
Just then a vivid flash of lightning made
everything as clear as day, and as Frank’s
glance met the stranger’s for a moment, he saw
he was recognized. This rider was Gus New
ton, a fierce secessionist, and a bitter enemy of
Frank’s.
Frank’s first impulse was to draw his revolver
and shoot him on his horse, but that would only
create an alarm and bring the party he had
just escaped at them. Sb, on second thoughts,
he drove the spurs into his horse’s flanks, and
telling Rollo to “ follow and keep close,” tried
to pass on. But Norton, who was a recklessly
brave man, was too quick for him. He knew
Frank at a glance, and knew also he was trying
to escape, and as Frank gave his horse the
spur, he wheeled suddenly round and grasped
Frank’s rein, and the horse thus checked, roar
ed up on his hind legs, snorting with anger.
“Haiti” cried Norton. “I tell you halt!
Seymour, I arrest you in the name of the
State.”
If Norton was a bravo man, Frank was just
as brave, and was twice his matchin brawn and
muscle.
“ D—n you and your State!” he cried. “ Let
go my horse ; take that!” and as he spoke, and
as his horse brought his forelegs to the ground,
ho dealt Norton a terrible blow on the arm
which grasped his rein, with the butt of his re
volver. Norton fairly shrieked with pain and
passion, ior there was so great a tension on his
arm from his determined hold on Frank’s rein,
that it Broke easily where it was struck between
the wrist and elbow, and fell powerless by-his
side. With his left hand Norton now tried to
draw a pistol from his breast-pocket, but be
fore he could use it, Frank had him grasped
with an iron clutch by the collar, and giving
his own horse the spur, ho lifted Norton fairly
from his saddle and flung him in the road.
Frank then dashed down the street at a racing
pace, followed by Rollo, while Norton, who
quickly recovered himself, fired a few harmless
shots after them in the darkness.
It was dangerous work for man and beast,
riding recklessly that nightgown the main
street of Vicksburg, but their horses were both
sure-footed and strong ; and if they could only
get out of the city without mishap, and reach
ths level road leading to the creek, Frank
hoped they would be able to reach the bridge
in advance of their pursuers—for pursued ha
knew they would bo at once, as Norton’s shots
would bring his party on their track.
Once at the bridge, Frank knew ho could
make it useless in a few moments by removing
a few of the loose floor beams, and the stream
would be altogether impassable at the ford, in
consequence of tho late heavy rain and tho
high water in the river.
In a short time they reached the clay road
on the river bottom. It was heavy and soaked
with the rain, and cut into deep gullies in many
places, the horses laboring fearfully as they
passed over it. After a hard ride of some
.wenty minutes, the noise of Big Bayou creek
‘rested their ears, as swollen by tho rain, it
8 ent jumbling and roaring into the M.gs.s-
NEW YORK DISPATCH,
sippi. The murky day was now beginning to
dawn, and, as they approached the creek,
Frank looked, but looked in vain, _ for the
bridge. With a sharp pang of disappointment,
he saw it had been carried away by the flood.
Not a vestige of it remained— bridge and abut
ments, and even the old fisherman’s cabin, had
been swept off.
• The skiff’s were gone, too, from their usual
hiding-places. To waste time now looking for
one Frank felt would never do—their pursuers
were too close upon them for that. He deter
mined, at any hazard, to reach the other side
of the creek.
Big Bayou was ordinarily but a sluggish
stream, its natural banks.not more than thirty
yards apart; but now, swollen by the heavy
rains, and fed from a hundred improvised
sources, its waters rushed fiercely over its
banks, and spread around on every side; but
there was little or no current except m its
natural bed, and there it was rushing down to
the river in a tumultuous flood.
Just as Frank had determined to cross over
at any risk. Kollo, who was looking with blank
dismay at the seething water, suddenly cried
out;
“Dar be a skiff—right dar in the woods, on
t’other side.”
Frank looked whero he pointed, and saw,
with pleasure, a skiff caught between two
trees.
“Now, Rollo,” said Frank, “you must shift
for yoursotf. You had better ride up the creek,
and go home by the Warrenton road. I’m go
ing to try and swim Jeb over. Take these sad
dle-bags and keep the clothes.”
“ It’s no use, Master Frank—Gus Norton saw
me plain as day. If I stay here, dey’ll kill mo,
sure. Master, I’se a free nigger; take me with
you North.”
“ Will you risk the creek?” asked Frank.
“Anything, Master Frank, sooner dou meet
dem men,” replied liollo.
Frank considered for a moment. Gus Nor
ton had certainly seen and recognized Rollo.
If ho himself escaped it would be easily
guessed through[whoso instrumentality he had
done so, and Bollo’s life would pay tho forfeit.
Just as well to didwn as to be captured.
“ You are right, Hollo,” Frank said. “ Get
down and tighten your girths, we’ii try the
creek together.”
Frank then took off the heavy overcoat he
had on and flung it into tho stream, and they
pressed their horses through the water on the
bank ; and as it was but a few feet deep they
found no difficulty until they reached the deep
water in the creek itself. Frank’s horse then
became frightened at the dangerous looking
current and refused to enter. When pressed
by voice and spur he reared straight up on his
hind legs, turning quite around as he did so.
Fr-ank then tried to back him down into deep
water, when suddenly he felt the bank giving
way from under his horses hind legs, and tho
next moment tho terrified animal and his rider
were hurled backward into the seething flood.
Frank felt the water closing over him with a
mighty rush, while tho roar of a hundred Ni
agaras seemed sounding in ills cars, but in a
second, horso and rider reached the surface
again, and tho animal, now thoroughly alive to
the danger, made for the other bank of the
creek; not directly, however, but keeping
somewhat with the current. Fortunately the
horse was a powerful and practical swimmer,
and once in deep water knew exactly what to
do. In a few moments Frank reached the op
posite bank, but here he encountered a fresh
difficulty. The water over the bank was not
deep enough to enable his horso to swim clear
of the natural bed of the creek, and again and
again he slipped backward into the flood,
whenever ho tried to get a foothold on tho
bank. Frank knew these fruitless efforts
would soon exhaust his horse’s strength, so
when he next made the attempt he flung him
self out of the saddle, still firmly grasping fhe
reins, and the horse thus relieved of his weight
with one vigorous bound placed himself clear
of the creek, and Frank at the same time,
aided by his grasp on the bridle, managed to
scramble on the bank himself.
During the few minutes occupied in crossing
tho creek, Frank, with, every nerve strained to
save himself, had not once looked back to see
how Rollo was faring, although he knew he
was in the stream by the frightened snorting
of the mare ho was riding. He now looked
and beheld Rollo in the middle of the creek
with tho mare’s head turned up tho stream.
Frank shouted to him to turn her head and
come down with the ciu-rent, but either ho did
not hear, or was so thoroughly frightened that
he had lost all presence of mind, for he still
continued to urge the mare in her frantic ei
forts to stem the flood. Ho again shouted to
Rollo to turn her head down tho. stream, and
just then he observed tho animal had slipped
her bridle, and was swallowing great mouth
fuls of water as she gaspod and struggled with
the muddy waters of the strong flood. Tho
next moment the exhausted animal turned
over on her side and Hollo was battling tlie
waters unaided.
Encumbered as he was with the heavy cloth
ing and boots the negroes always wore, his
struggle for life would nave been a short one
had not Frank seen the danger, and, with a
determined effort, dragged the skiff from where
it lay fast between the two trees, and pushed
it before him into tho creek.
As ho did so, a shot was fired from tho oppo
site bank, and then half a dozen came in rapid
succession, and Frank felt a sensation as if a
bi;r of hot iron was drawn quickly across his
face, and in a moment his beard and neck were
stained with blood.
Nothing daunted, however, be sprang to tho
skiff, and as 80110 camo floating by, he dragged
him in.
Fortunately, both oars were lashed to the
seats, and Frank in a moment had the lashings
cut, and, placing the oars in the row-locks,
with vigorous strokes started down the stream.
He now saw that there were several horse
men on the bank, riding here and there through
the water, both evidently cautious of approach
ing too close to the deep water in the creek.
They were close enough, however, to make their
presence felt, and shot alter shot struck the
water around the boat, as their numbers in
creased, and the hoarse cry of “ Surrender I
G—d d—n you, surrenderl” was lie.ard.
A short distance from the junction of tho
river with tho creek, the latter took a sudden
bend to the left, aud then again to the right,
and Frank saw that several horsemen were
riding across this neck to head them off and
give them a volley as they went by. He could
sec also that they could get near enough to the
deep water in the creek to make his position in
passing ono of the most extreme peril.
“Indeed, if they fail to hit us now,” thought
Frank, “it will not be owing to the range.”
But escape or death, Frank never once fal
tered in his set purpose to reach the river.
Indeed his peril made him only the more de
termined to “do or die”—ail’d so with head
bent down, and clenched teeth and breast, and
beard all bloody from the bullet wound in his
cheek, ho made the clumsy boat spring through
the water as it never did before.
As he came round the bend, he gave one
hurried glance backward to the river, which
was now within a few hundred yards, and then
again bent over his oars. He did not look at
his enemies, but he knew very well that ho
might expect their volley. And he had not
long to wait. They fired nearly together—a
dozen shots at least—the bullets whistled round
him, and struck the boat in several places.
One buried itself in Frank’s left hand oar, send
ing an electric shock through his arm. That
was all. Frank felt in a moment he had es
caped—but Rollo sprang up with a wild cry as
they fired, and fell over on Frank with out
stretched arms. A cheer from the shore an
swered his cry, and when Frank turned him
over ho was dying. A bullet had struck him in
the neck, cutting the jugular in two, and mak
ing a gaping wound horrible to loon at.
Once in tho Mississippi, Frank was safe from
pursuit, and ten miles below he met tho
steamer “ Champion” coming up, and had no
difficulty in getting on board.
It was crowded with fugitives, men women
and children, fleeing from the evils the South
so defiantly courted. No attempt was made to
stop the boat at Vicksburg—which Frank felt
was a ■ fortunate thing for himself. The body
of poor 80110 was buried at the first landing the
steamer made for wood,
Em TRIALS.
The last session of the Board was exceeding
ly short—there being but eight cases on tne
calender, and no licenses were revoked. In
the case of David Rapping, of Sixth avenue,
between Sixteenth and Middle streets, Brook
lyn, counsel for the Board asked that the
charge bo dismissed, as the defendant was
dead. The complaint, on motion, was dis
missed.
In the case of Herman Uhrmer, No. 18 Greens
street, tho police reported that the defendant
■had left the place, and it was now closed, The
trial was indefinitely postponed.
In the complaint against John Shewell, No.,
70 Prince street, it was supposed that he had
not been regularly summoned, and the case
went over till Monday.
John J. Tally, of No. 381 Sixth avenue, Brook
lyn, presented a certificate of trial and acquit
tal on the same charge before a Brooklyn jury.
The case was dismissed.
Tho charge against Herman Raster, No. 143
Lowis street, was resumed from last week. It
will bo remembered that the complainant, Mrs.
Ann McLaughlin, went to Raster’s place and
bought a pint of afe for the purpose of entering
a complaint against Ruster for selling liquor
on Sunday, as her husband spent the greater
portion of his earnings in that house. She told
Ruster he would not sell liquor on Sunday
again, and had hardly loft tho place when she
was assaulted by somebody. Officer Smith
came up after the assau.t had been committed,
and arrested her ; locked her up on the charge
of being drunk and disorderly, and had her
fined ten dollars the next morning by the Jus
tice. The case was adjourned to hear the
officer’s testimony. Ho was sworn and ex
amined.
Q. Do you know that Witness? (Mrs, Mc-
Laughlin.)
A. Yes.
Q. Did you see her on the twentieth of De
cember ?
A.—Yes; at half after five; me and two
other officers ; I saw nothing in relation to tho
assault, but when I came up she had a tin pail
laying alongside of her on tue pavement, and I
took her to the station-house.; she was laying
on the sidewalk, drank, and the boys were
firing snow-balls at hot.
Q. —Was it near this gentleman’s store (Kus
ter’s store) ?
A.—lt was a block off. I am positive she
didn’t know what she was about.
Q.—What did she sUy when arrested ?
A.—She said she was not drunk.
Q.—Why is the sergeant not here ?
A.—l spoke to tne sergeant, and he said it
was not necessary.
Judge Brennan—l think it is a serious charge
against you and him.
Smith—l did not think it necessary to bring
him.
Judge Brennan—l think it necessary. You
bring him here next Monday.
The case was adjourned.
The partner of Gottleib Soix, No. 179 Duane
street, asked to have the case dismissed. Mr.
Seix had run away, and he didn’t know whore
he was.
Dr. Stone—ln whose name was the license ?
Counsel—ln the name of the man that ran
away.
The complaint against Lawrence J. Sammis,
No. 956 Button avenue, Brooklyn, was dis
missed. The officer said the, accused had been
tried by a jury and acquitted’.
POLICE TRIALS.
Caution to Patrolmen and Roundsmen—Too
Hungry to Hake an Arrest—Could not Con
scientiously Swear to a Complaint—The Mill
on the Floss—Mistaken Identity—A Hare
Case of Necessity—Doctoring a Doctor—ln
Hard Luck.
Tho Police Board, if they carry into effect
the declarations that they made last Wednes
day, will make plenty of openings for aspirants
to the force. Heretofore, theft and intoxica
tion were about tho only cases that provoked
the Commissioners to dismiss a man from the
force; now it is to be different. If three or
four complaints against a man should tumble
in at the same time, for neglect of duty, with a
record of previous convictions, that man may
consider himself, before going to court,’ as
gQod as dismissed from tho Department. Friv
olous complaints are not to be made. If a man
is not on his relieving point, or ten leet off his
post, or whatever charge he is guilty of, he must
make his excuse to the roundsman. The
roundsman, sergeant, or captain must exam
ine into it, and see if the excuse is good and
true. It false, then the complaint is to be
made. Thus, the roundsman has duties to
perform as well as the patrolman. A rounds
man bringing down a lot of frivolous com
plaints that he might easily have ascertained
should not have come before the Board, may
be reduced to the ranks. The Board say that
by heavier fines and dismissal from tho De
partment for violation of rules and neglect of
duty, they mean to have fewer trials in future,
and" more of the time of policemen given to the
public.
SHIRKING DUTY.
The charge against Officer Robb, of tho Fif
teenth Precinct, was failing to take an intoxi
cated man out of an area belonging to Steven
B. Hyatt, of No. 94 East Tenth street. Com
plainant said that on Sunday morning, throe
weeks ago, he was notified that a drunken man
was in the area. The man was a little more
than ho could manage, so ho wont to tho Third
avenue to look for help, and on his way for an
officer he met two. Robb was one of the
officers, and when he wanted him to come and
help him to got rid of the drunken man, Robb
said ho had been on duty a long while, was
hungry and tired, and that liis relief would be
up in a minute, and he would do as well.
Robb—l did not understand him. I under
stood him to say that the man he speaks of was
a friend of bis.
Hyatt—l said from appearances the man was
a gentieman. Ho was in dress suit, and I be
lieve I suggested a carriage ; but I didn’t care
how or where ho was taken, if taken out of my
area.
Robb—lt was my relief, and I was on my re
lieving point, aud he was in sight, and think
ing it was a friend of his that he wanted a car
riage for, I said if ho waited a minute he could
have an officer that would help him. So much
for the relieving point.
AN ALDERMAN GETS EVEN WITH AN OEEICES.
The charge against Officer Broughton, of the
Fourteenth Precinct was entering the liquor
saloon of Martin Oakley, in Mott street, with
out being called therein, and entering into a
personal contest with ono Reynolds in the
bar-room, when Mr. Oakley put them out,
and the contest was renewed oh the sidewalk.
There was'a further charge of being on duty
at the time when he entered, and also indulged
in liquor. Then, again, there was a further
charge to the effect that Broughton, who had
been assaulted by Reynolds, refused to make a
complaint against him when taken before Ai
derman Cuddy. A further count in the charge
was drinking in Oakley’s place while in uniform
and on his post. The last count was disproved
by Oakley. He didn’t see Broughton drink,
but he saw him there at Ins place, No. 113 Mott
street, on Christmas day. Defendant admits
he was there—enticed in under false pretences
to quell a difficulty. When ho got in the back
room, he says, they crowded round him, and
presumes it was a put-up job. Oakley says he
saw tho officer wrangling with the men
there, and he got Reynolds and the officer
turned out on the street, and Broughton, who
had been assaulted by Reynolds, renewed the
wrestling match. Broughton’s evidence was
that the struggle was in tho hall, not the
street. Michael Reynolds, the man who had
assaulted Broughton, the officer said had gone
to Alaska. Two other witnesses for the prose
cution, also failed to appear. Thereupon Ai
derman Cuddy, upon being called, came for
ward to straighten up a slander that the papers
had fulminated. He said : When Reynolds was
brought before me by Broughton, on the charge
of assaulting the officer, Broughton refused to
make any complaint.
Broughton—Did I refuse to make a charge ?
Alderman Cuddy—l asked you did you wish
to make a charge, and you said, “No, sir!”
that you had b'een hit by mistake.
Broughton—Didn’t I state that I was called
in that place by mistake ?
Aiderman Cuddy—All yon said was that you
thought you were struck by mistake. I dis
tinctly asked you to make a charge. I was
censured very much by the papers for my ac
tion in this case, but when I am on the bench I
try to protect the police. He refused to make
a complaint of assault and battery, and the ac
cused was discharged.
Several officers testified that on being in
formed of a row in Mott street, they hurried
there, and getting into tho entry where there
was a crowd of fifteen, less or morg (the crowd
as to numbers was indefinite), Reynolds Had
Broughton’s head in chancery. Alter liis bro
ther officers released “hoults,” lie asked to get
at Reynolds to have satisfaction on theistrcet.
The officers would not allow it, and Reynolds
was conducted to the lock-up. He then said
that Reynolds was Ills assailant. So the .charge
was entered in the blotter. In the morning he
seems to have changed his mind, as ho says be
could not conscientiously swear who struck
him, as there were so many around him., In
the excitement of the moment he made' the
charge against Reynolds, as he was known to
be a man who was death on “peelers.” The
job to get him in the liquor store was “ put
up,” so that for some reason he was taken in
there to get satisfaction out of him. They sur
rounded him after he got in, and Reynolds
wrangled with him, and'outside he was hit, by
whom lie could not conscientiously swear. The
case was adjourned till Friday, to enable
Broughton to bring Reynolds, Clancy, aad
McGovern from Alaska, to prove that it was a
“put-up job.”
BROOKLYN JOKES.
Officer O’Hara, of the Fiftieth Precinct, was
charged with being seen coming out of a plan
ing-mill by the Sergeant. The Sergeant said
he saw the accused come out of the mill with
another man as distinctly and as sure as he
ever saw daylight; he could swear to his iden
tity as positively as he could to that ot his first
sweetheart by moonlight. O’Hara said it was
a clear case of mistaken identity. There had
been a fire close by the mill a few nights be
fore, and it behoved him to look after that
locality for further acts of incendiarism. Look
ing out for these incideiltal accidentals, he
beard a woman’s scream beyond tho Mill upon
the Floss. It was attending to this lonely cry
of female distress that “tuk him ” beyond the
Mill on the Floes. Returning back to do patrol
duty, a policeman and awhat-is-it ? issued out of
the planing-mill just as he was passing it.
The Sergeant at the same time was passing,
and swore plumply that O’Hara came out of it
where he had not the least doubt in his mind
but that O’Hara had been for hours for all that
ho knew, converting his shins into caif’s-foot
jelly, berore a stove. O’llara swore by the flag
that’s going to float over the future Republic of
Ireland, that it was a clear ease of mistaken
identity. Ho, too, saw two men ran from the
mill as'he was passing; he camo up at that
very point of time; ho was followed and mis
taken by the Sergeant for the man who had
been nursing his shins, when in truth he had
been engaged preserving the breaking of shin
bones. The Sergeant, be it remembered, swore
he saw a man and a policeman come out of the
mill; so swore O’Hara, but who the men were
ho knowes not. On the other hand, O’Hara
brought the private watchman of tho Hill on
the Floss, who swore distinctly that no police
man was in the mill that night or any other
night. He closed his testimony with the very
emphatic declaration, “ I wouldn’t take a false
oath if my son was a policeman. That’s so.”
So much tor the Mill on the Floss.
URGENT NECESSITY.
Officer Barrett, a long-legged officer of the
Forty-eighth Precinct, who, if he had been in
the celebrated charge of the Six Hundred,
would have, heard a report from the rear, as
well as the front, was charged by Roundsman
Temple with leaving his post and going into a
liquor store. Temple said that he opened the
door of the liquor saioon and there saw Bar
rett and Johnsou in the bar-room.
Barrett—lf I was there it was necessity.
Temple—They made no remarks to me about
necessity.
Barrett—Well, sir, with all due respect to the
Board, I can bring proof that that day I dirtied
my .
Mr. Mannierre—Can you bring the proof?
[Laughter.]
Barrett—Yes, J have two witnesses that can
swear to it.
Mr. Mannierre—Bring these men here on Fri
day with the proof.
The Barrett family are likely to immortalize
themselves through the Forty-eighth Precinct,
and the defendant. Barrett had a second
Charge preferred against him of talking or
whiling time past talking to a citizen.
Barrett—l suppose I did talk tho time speci
fied.
Mr. Manniorre—Why did you do it?
Barrett—l wanted to make myself acquainted
in the neighborhood. I was a stranger there
and when questions were asked me, I felt fool
ish if I couldn’t answer them.
Mr. Mannierre—You wanted to be a walking
encyclopedia ?
Barrett—l thought it my duty to know every
thing and everybody in the Ward. I asked the
citizen what sort of a place that was.
Mr. Mannierre—What did ho say ?
Barrett—He said it was a club-room.
Mr. Mannierre—Did it take you seventeen
minutes to get that information ?
_ Barrett—l don’t contradict Mr. Mackeller, as
time glides swiftly by, but it didn’t seem so
long, getting this information on the ins, outs,
and the doings of the folks on the post. John
son said he was in getting a paper of tobacco.
AN OUTRAGE BY A POLICE SBBGBANT.
On the night of the Ist of January, Dr. August
Deipo, in jumping out of a car, fell and broke
ono of the bones of the ankle. Unable to move,
he sat down on the pavement, and, when officer
Jacobs, of the Fifth Precinct, came up to him,
he found him surrounded by a crowd of people.
Ho got him up and made him hobble to the
station-house. Being a German, the officer
did not understand him. “I thought,” said
the officer, “that his leg was sprained, but I
did not think it was broken. I thought he was
under tho influence of liquor. The sergeant
ordered him to walk across tho floor, and he
walked lame.” Ono doorman said ho appeared
to be much intoxicated, and begged hard to bo
let go, as he was a physician; when brought
in, ho never said that his leg was inj urod. Ten
minutes after, ho was visited by another door
man, who, at the captain’s request, pulled off
tho boot and examined tho leg, and told him
that there was nothing the matter with it—he
was shamming«he saw no inflammation or
apparent bones broken; it tho doctor was a
physician, he could have a wet cloth, and he
would know how to apply it. Captain Petty
said he trusted the doorman to make the exam
ination, as he was busy writing. Sergeant
Christie, who was on trial for failing to send
for a polico surgeon to attend to a man who
had a broken leg, said the man, when brought
in, walked the same as a man would walk on
two legs; he walked straight till he got to tho
wall, then he staggered, and on coming back
ho grabbed the railing.
Mr. Mannierre—Did he walk straight ?
Sergeant Chnstee—As straight as I could (?)
Only ho staggered as a drunken man. Ten
minutes alter be was in tho cell he called for
the doorman to take off his boot.
Sergeant Caywood said that in the morning
the officers hail to hire a carriage to take him
to the court-house.
Dr. Diepo said he had drank several glasses
of beer and wine on New Years’ day, but no
alcoholic drinks. In jumping out of the car in
Canal street, he fell, and broke ono of the out
side bones ot the ankle. He was slightly under
the influence, but not so much as to prevent
him getting home, had it not been for his brok
en ankle. When arrested, he told the officer
of the accident, that he had fifteen dollars in
his pocket to pay for a carriage to be sent
homo. But he had to hobble tho best way he
could to the station-house. Ho told the ser
geant his profession and his accident, when
the sergeant ordered him to waik across the
room. He staggered across the room as best
he could, when the sergeant ordered the door
man to lock him up. The doctor who was on
crutches said the treatment that he had receiv
ed that night would keep him a month on
crutches beyond the usual time of healing tho
bone. Next day 'when he got home, fie got a
physician to set the bone. .Th® doctor was told
by’the Board to send in the doctor’s certificate
that set his leg.
A SPECIAL ON TRIAL.
Officer J. J. Byrnes, of the Sixteenth Pre
cinct, was charged with asking Officer Orr to
assist him in arresting a man, and, after the
arrest was made, failing to appear to prose
cute. Byrnes said as he was passing through
tho Ninth avenue ho jumped in to stop two
men fighting, when one of them hit him. When
Orr came up, he asked his help to take him in.
On the way to tho station, he was persuaded
to believe that he had arrested the wrong man
for assaulting him. He was late in getting up
next morning, and when he got to tho police
court the men were discharged.
Mr. Mannierre (to Captain Williamson)—Do
you know anything of this ?
Captain Williamson—No, I was not in the
station-house. I don’t know much about the
man, although he is on my pay-roll. I see him
once a month, when I pay him. I believe he
is detailed as a clerk at headquarters.
A SPARKING EXHIBITION.
Officers Kelly and Carl, of the Eighth Pre
cinct, were charged with skylarking and spar
ring on the street. Kelly partially admitted
it, but said that Carl tantalized him, and an
accidental sockdolloger sent Carl to grass.
Carl said he slipped down when they were hav
ing a little,fun.
Judgo Brennan—Well, now, don’t you feel
cheap ? If you had seen two boys do that in
the street, you would have arrested them and
locked them up, and taken them to court next
morning.
Roundsman Pickett—Kelly appeared to be
under the influence of liquor.
Judge Brennan—ls there any charge of that
in the complaint ?
Pickett—No.
Judgo Brennan—Then don’t say anything
about it.
A CAUTION.
Officer John Cox was charged by Roundsman
Pickett with being ki a liquor store.
Judge Brennan—How long was he in ?
Pickett—l don’t know; I saw him come out.
Judge Brennan—What did he say?
Pickett —He said he was not in, but I saw him
come out. »
Judge Brennan—What do you say now ?
Cox—l only went to the door, and was wished
a “Happy New Year.”
Judge Brennan—You thought you were
smart, that you could beat tlfe roundsman and
come down here and beat the Board, and trifle
with the time of the public. But you, and
others like you, will only come here to beat
yourself. A proper explanation must be made
to roundsmen, and roundsmen are expected to
substantiate the charges that are preferred,
and make the proper inquiry, before making the
complaint, to ascertain the falsity of the excuse.
The frequent appear ance of a roundsman mak
ing frivolous charges will not promote him, on
the contrary it may reduce him to the ranks,
and, as Mr. Mannierre has said, "where there
is frequency of com’plaints against an officer,
there is a disposition ’on the part of the Board
o dismiss the man from the department.
GLOOMY.
Officer Bernard J. Watson, of the Twenty
ninth Precinct, whose case lias been so fully
reported on the charge of improper conduct
with a woman, will most likely be acquitted of
that charge, but be dismissed from the force
on another complaint, being off duty in a gro
cery. The proceedings, although short, are
onerous.
Roundsman Clark—l saw him come out of a
grocery store. ,
Judge Brennan—Whrt did he say?
Clark —He said he was not in there, but I
saw him come out. I went into the grocery
store to ask him, when he followed me in, and
spoke first, and said: “ I wasn’t in your store,
was I?” and the groceryman said : “No.”
Judge Brennan—Watson had the best of you
that time.
Clark —I asked the groeeryman if he was not
in, and he said, “Yes.” He went in to see the
time.
Watson—l merely opened the door to see the
time.
Judge Brennan—Let tho groeeryman be here
next Friday.
[Original.]
HIT SISffISOTi ES OR
“It takes all sorts of people to make a
world.” We think so. We have thought so
for some time. Are there any sorts “left out
in the cold ?” We can hardly venture to say
there are. Some sorts aro scarcer than others.
We don’t wish to say what sort these are, as
we might offend the others. Perhaps you can
guess, reader. If not, remain in ignorance, for
’tis a case where ’tis folly to be wise, perhaps.
Beside, you may have laid the flattering unc
tion to your soiil that—but no matter; it’s of
no use to make a short story long.
One sees in tho horse cars most every varie
ty of these “ all sorts of people,” if ono travels
much in this plebeian manner. In this sloshy,
splosby, thawy, drizzy. misty, foggy weather,
the sort of people one don’t meet in the horse
cars, aren’t worth meeting, perhaps. They
are there, the “all sorts,” in full force, if not
in full feather. If they don’t start with you
from the Astor, you will pick them up as you
progress, for “all sorts of people” must get
nome, and they prefer to ride rather than
walk, though, in either case, it is pursuit of
home under difficulties. Of two evils, they
think they choose the least .when availing
themselves of the means to their journey’s
end—the crowded horse cars.
We were of the “all sorts’’party, tho other
afternoon, in a car of the Sixth avenue line,
up-townward bound. A lady, very richly
dressed, and a little girl—her daughter, we
took for granted—a little, blonde beauty of
four summers—winters, we should say, per
haps at this season, but summers seem more
appropriate as applied to the little child—also
riculy attired, sat near ns, on the same side of
the car. Velvet, sky-blue, was the material of
which the outer garments of mother and
daughter were fashioned, and the latter wore a
jaunty hat of the same blue fabric, adorned
with a snow-white dancing-feather. A wavy,
feathery mass of magnificent hair floated free
and unconfined over her shoulders, in color,
bright and suining almost, as pure gold. Her
eyes were blue as the velvet that adorned her
tiny form, and the lily’s white and the rose’s
red vied with each other in h’er innocent face.
She wore high-buttoned boots, but slightly
soiled by contact with the all-prevailing mud
of the streets, the wearer, in all probability,
having been ferried over gullies and deep and
slushy pools in the arms of her mother.
“ Isn’t she a little beauty ?”
We didn’t hear these words, but saw the lips
move that uttered them—those of a lady nearly
opposite—as she spoke to a friend. Had it
been pressed to a vote, the question would
have been decided in the affirmative without a
dissenting voice we believe. Even that crusty
old fellow at the other end of the car, who was
growling and grumbling about the weather
generally, but about the mud in particular,
would have voted “ay.” She was a “littlo
beauty,” and we venture that every ono in tho
car thought so, for every eye had noticed her,
as she sat close to her mother, tho latter’s arm
around her waist. The bud and the flower were
both beautiful to look upon.
Vis-a-vis, exactly, sat a woman and child.
Neither were dressed in velvets and laces.
Their garments were of common material.
They were barely passable in appearance, and
not a little mud-soiled; but this wo an and
child made two of the “ all sorts of people ”
that ride in the horse-cars, as did the other two
specimens of femininity. In place of a sable
muff, this woman carried a basket in her lap,
filled with provisions, among which were some
fine looking apples. The child—daughter, we
took for granted—was about nine years of age,
we judged. She wore no velvet sacque, no
velvet hat and snowy feather, and no high
buttoned boots. No wealth of wavy, golden
hair floated over her shoulders, and there was
more of the purple in her face, from cold, than
of the lily-white and rosy-red.
Nobody remarked of lier “isnt she a little
beauty ?” She wasn’t noticed.
She sat motionless, with her gaze fixed on
the “little beauty” opposite, for some moments,
in utter forgetfulness of a nice red apple she
held in one hand. But having scanned the lit
tle four-year old from feather to boots, and from
boots to feather, she at length bethought her
ot the neglected apple, and applied herself to
it at once, as if she nad been remiss in an im
portant duty; but fascinated, her gaze was still
directed to tho younger miss opposite, who was
now watching tho fast disappearing apple with
longing eyes ; and, after a moment or two, held
out her tiny, gloved hand in mute appeal for a
share. The little hand was pulled down by her
mother, but her.look could not be pulled away
from the apple, m process of deglutition by the
other, who looked at her mother and whis
pered in her oar.
The latter moved her hand as if to take an
apple from tho basket, but hesitated as she
cast her eyes upon her patrician sister opposite,
‘ Tittle beauty ” still looking with longing eyes
upon the coveted fruit.
“ Do, mother; give her one,” whispered tho
child, with the apple, loud enough for us to
hear.
The mother no longer hesitated, but took
from the basket an apple, and passed it over to
the “little beauty,” whose eyes sparkled with
pleasure and gratification as she received the
fruit she longed for.
The face of her mother flushed in an in
stant, and betokened offense taken at the act
of the presumptuous woman opposite. It was
wrong, very wrong, perhaps, this act of the
latter. She should have asked permission, and
not bestowed gifts upon her betters in such a
rudo and offensive manner. She would have
been repulsed, no doubt, but etiquette, you
know. How deeply the well-intentioned act of
a sympathetic heart would offend—not being
versed in etiquette—the giver of the apple did
not suspect. She sinned without knowing it.
When the face of the “little beauty’s” mother
flushed at the affsont she had received, she
snatched the apple from the hand of her child,
and tossed it back into the basket from whence
it had been taken. There was less of petu
lanoy than of offended pride in her action, but
enough of the former to attract the attention
of nearly all in the car, and to show that she
could quickly resent any such outrageous
affront as had. been put upon her. Her child
followed the apple with her eyes, and then
looked surprised and appealingly into the
mother’s face. The passengers looked unut
terable things at the-lady, and the lady looked
indifferent, and, at nobody in particular.
Tee little girl opposite, taking tho apple that
had been so unceremoniously and so * unfeel
ingly tossed into the basket, and getting down
from her seat, made one stop across, and said
to the injured lady,
“ Please marm, won’t you let me give this to
the little girl?”
For an instant she looked appealingly into
the face of her whom she addressed, which
now flushed to the temples with shame, morti
fication, and withal, vexation.
A buzz went thrqugh th'e car, perhaps, at the
action of tho little girl, perhaps, because of tho
shame manifested bv the other. The apple
was again placed in the hands of the “little
beauty,” by the other child, just as the mother
of the former said in a low tone,
“Yes, you may give it to her,” while she
continued to say something about not wishing
her child to eat apples, and then added,
“ Let me pay you for it,” offering her porl
monnaie at these words.
“No! Mother don’t sell apples,” said the
girl, with not a little pride in her tone, as she
took her seat.
Everybody in tho car seemed pleased but
one, and that one the reader can guess, per
haps. One or two blocks further and she leit
the car to take probably the next one that
came along.
All sorts of people it takes to make a world,
and she was one of the many sorts.
' gw gM.
A late English paper says : “A
strange dispute has arisen between a parish
Sriest and his parishioners at Cloghree, County
ork. On the death of the late dean, tho
priest of this parish was appointed to succeed
him, and the Rev. Mr. Murray was nominated
for Cloghree, which is situate within six miles
of Cork. The people did not approve the
bishop’s, selection, but desired to have another
priest, and probably thought that, as they
would have to pay their pastor, they ought to
have a voice m choosing him themselves. They
resolved to appeal to the bisnop, but in the
meantime not allow the obnoxious priest to en
ter into possession. They adopted the most
effectual means of preventing this by locking
and spiking the doors of the-tliree chapels in
the parish. They had an interview with the
bishop, who promised, it is said, to have the
matter arranged, and requested them to re
open the doors. They did so, But, finding that
the reverend gentleman was still retained,
they closed the chapel's again, and when he
came on Sunday to perform divine service they
’would not admit him. Parties of men re
mained on guard every night at each chapel
before blazing watch-fires. The dispute has
continued'm this way for three weeks. It was
feared that a breach of the peace would be
committed on Sunday last, and, in compliance
with an urgent request, a party of filty armed
constables, under the command of County In
spector Barry and Snb-'lnspector Egan, pro
ceeded from Cork, accompanied by a magis
trate, to.one of the chapels. There they were
reinforced by contingents from other stations,
under the command of a sub-inspector and
another magistrate. On arriying, they found
about 300 persons assembled. They were
armed with huge" bludgeons, and had posses
sion of the chapel and surrounding walls. Tho
Rev. Mr. Murray read the bishop’s letter of ap
pointment, and demanded admission to cele
brate mass, but they refused to givo it. His
, curate, the Rev. Mr. Ahern, who had some in
fluence with the people, advanced to the gate
for the purpose of entering, but the men stood
in a compact body before it, and would not
give way. The Rev. Mr. Murray declared that
he would assert his right, but rather than
have a drop of blood spilt he would renounce
his claim to the parish. They listened respect
fully, but were unmoved, responding to each
allusion to his obtaining admission by cries of
‘No, no!’ and ‘Never!’ Ho did not persevere,
and the police were withdrawn. The police
believe that had any attempt been made to
force an entrance, a desperate fight would have
ensued. The other chapels wore similarly
guarded, and mass was not. celebrated in any
ot them. It is stated that a parish priest once
appointed by a bishop- is irremovable unless
by’a decree from tho Pope.”
' Chapman, in his “ Travels in the In
terior of South Africa,” thus describes a novel
and disgusting scene, of which he was an eye
witness, at a great gathering of the natives:
After eating, drinking, and other ceremonies,
the Bushmen indulge m a bout of smoking
from a rude clay pipe, which, being passed
round, each inhales one mouthful. A lit of vio
lent intoxication ensues, tho stomach distends,
the breast heaves, the eyes turn their whites
to view, a quivering motion seizes the whole
frame, and they fall hack in terrible convul
sions, kicking and writhing ; their faces assume
the most hidfeous contortions, and the foam is
sues from their mouths, while the more hard
ened of the party try to restore the senses of
their fellows by squirting water from their
mouths on their faces, and pulling at a tuft of
hair in the crown of their heads. This is one
of the most disgusting spectacles that can be
witnessed. It occasionally happens that some
of them die in these convulsions ; others, on
recovery, say they have been in an ecstasy of
delight, and desire a repotition ; and it is every
young Bushman’s greatest boast to have been
drunk from tobacco. When smoking alone,
they frequently fail into the fire, and are some
times burnt to death. In the course of my ram
bles I have seen hundreds who have been in
jured by fire, into which they have fallen dur
ing this state of delirium; and they are too
lazy or thoughtless to take any precautions
before they commence these dangerous orgies.
Tho Bushmen generally obtain tobacco by send
ing a few jackal skins to Chapo, a distance of
150 miles, in barter for it. The first time I ob
served one of these people in this state, not
knowing the cause, I turned to inquire of the
others, but I found they were all m the same
state-of stupor, one excepted, who looked par
ticularly foolish, and smiled at my dismay,
though his head was fast bobbing. Presently
he rolled over among the rest. Appalled at the
symptoms, I seized one of their tortoise-shells,
ran for water, which I dashed unsparingly over
them ; and, on their being restored, found that
this immoderate use of tobacco had paused
them;
Sunday Edition. Jan. 17«
Let us step into the Chinese pro
vision shops. Here we sec good mutton,
joints of beet, young pigs, and tender chick
ens, and in addition we see four puppies. They
have been fattened for the market, dressed by
scalding, just as young pigs are prepared for
the market. A platter is filled with frogs*
heads. Upon another plato wo see the intes
tines of a chicken, on another the entrails of tt,
' fish. In a tub by the door are thousands of
young eels, not much larger.than mud worms,
alive and squirming ; and hero eomos a man
with two baskets, hanging from a bamboo eves
his shoulder • in one of them aro two ofd cats.;
in the other four pretty little kittens,, one oB
them black, the others gray. This man has
no rats on hand to-day, but they aro to be had'
in the market. All of these are for eating.
Thousands of people in Canton think them
selves well off if they can have a puppy cutlot.
or rat pie, I dare say that every girl who may
read this would like to have something torribla
happen to the wretches who kill and eat suolt
pretty kittens. A step or twoi, and we are at a
doctor’s shop. Ho pulls teeth, and here is a
string of old teeth, also a peck basket half full,
he says to let the people know he has done a
great deal of work in that line. The docton
has a patient—a man who has tho rheumatism
in his right leg, and the doctor is taking it out
by applying cupping-glasses—a very harmless
remedy—any of you who have the rheumatism'
can try it; your parents will tell you how ta
do it. But this doctor has some curious medi?
cinos—dried snakes! Here they are, hanging
by strings from the ceiling. How he uses
them, or for what purpose, it is impossible th
say, but here they are, with bundles of herbsy
to bo made into poultices, or steeped in water J
applied outwardly, or to bo taken as we taka.
Epsom salts, rhubarb, and all sorts of
tasting doctor’s stuff.
A writer in an English periodical
relates as follows how an actress became a
princess: Mademoiselle Luzgol, t’uo pretty
French actress, was recently married to Prmca
Tolstoi, one of the wealthiest young noblemen
of St. Petersburg. Tho prince “popped ths
question ” in a somewhat unusual manner.
There was a fair at tho St. Petersburg French;
Theatre, for the benefit or tho French Hospital.
Mademoiselle Luzgel presided over one of the
stands at the fair, and Prince Tolstoi banter
ingly asked her how much she would take for a
kiss. She glanced at him rather sternly, and
replied that she would not kiss any man but
her betrothed. The prince passed on, but re
turned to Mademoiselle Luzgel’s stand a quar-4
tor of an [hour afterward, and said, rather
thoughtfully, to the young actress :
“Will you permit me to ask you another
question, mademoiselle ?”
“ With pleasure, sir.”
“ Have you a betrothed ?”
She eyed him a moment in surprise, and said
then, with a blush and a smile :
“No, sir.”
“ Would you like to have one ?”
“That depends upon circumstances,” shfl
said, laughing.
“Well, then, would you take me ?”
So saying, ho handed her his card. She Waa
greatly astonished, and finally stammered out
that she would givo him an answer next day.
Ou the following morning he called at he®
house ; the reply was in the affirmative, and to
day Mademoiselle Luzgel is a princess and 3
happy wife.
The entrance into society may ba
said to take place immediately alter boyhootj
has passed away, 3 T et a multitude take their in
itiative before their beards are presentable. It(
is a great trial either for a tender or a ripejJ
age. For an overgrown boy to go to a doors
knowing well that there are a dozen girls
side, and knock or ring, with an absolute cer
tainty that, in a few moments all eyes will be
upon him, is a severe test of courage. To go
before these girls and make tho tour of the
room without stepping on their toes, and sit
down and dispose of his hands without putting
them in his pockets, is an achievement which
few boys can boast. If a boy can go so far as
to measure off ten yards of tape with one of
the girls, and cut it off at eacli end, he
stand a chance to pass a pleasant evening*
Let him not flatter himself that the trials ofj
the evening are over. Then comos the break
ing up. The dear girls don their hoods and!
put oh their shawls, and look so saucy and mis
chievous, so and independent,
if they did not wish anybody to go home with
them. Then comes tho pinch, and the boy.
who has the most pluck goes up to the pret
ticst girl in the room, with his tongue clinging
to the root -of his month, and crooking out his
elbow, stammers out the words :
“ Shall I see you home ?”
She touches her finger on his arm, and they
walk home,'feeling as awkward as two goslings.
The game of “ the baton,” as it is
called, lor the aimless dangers encountered in
playing it, is worthy of the peasants of Brit
tany. It is amusing enough to a certain class
of spectators. Two stakes, of unequal length,
arc fixed upright in tho ground, at a distanca
from one another of about twenty paces, and
on the taller ono is placed a hat in such a man
ner as to be easily lifted off by a stick thrust
inside it. The performer then holds bis noss
with one hand, and placing the other on ths
top of the short stake, leans on it with his fore,
head, and in this embarrassed position walks
round it three times, still keeping his nose
pinched, snd stooping his forehead to the stake.
After tho third round he raises his head, pulls
up the stake, and endeavors io walk to the hat,
and thrust the stake inside it. But before tak
ing two steps, he usually swerves aside, reel,
for an instant, and then rolls over insensible.
Out of fifteen mon who tried it, myself included,
only one had strength to keep ids head ana
totter to the hat without a tumble. Nothing
can bo more silly than such a performance ; tha
act of lowering the head to the knees of itself
creates a tendency to dizziness, and when to
that is added tho stoppage of the nose and tha
giddy motion of going round, the effect is that,
the blood cannot recover its freedom withouj
convulsing the senses,
A gentleman in Belgravia, famous
as a writer, was recently caught in a shower of
rain, without an umbrella, and took refuge un
der the portico of a handsome dwelling. Im
mediately after he had taken the position, a(
window was opened, and a lovely female faca
appeared, which seemed to beam with sympais
thy and anxiety. She soon retired, and sent
him an umbrella by a servant. He fell at
desperately in love; and thinking, from her
anxious looks, that the feeling was recipro
cated, he called on her tho next morning, sent
up his ckrd, and gave into her own hand avers
costly umbrella he had purchased in place of
tho old and shabby one he had borrowed, anct
then wound up all by malting a profession of
love. The young lady, without noticing the
exchange that had been made, perceiving. hot®
her act had been misinterpreted, naively foil
plied : “ I feel it to be my duty to undcccivtS
you, sir. At the time of-the shower, I was
anxiously expecting a gentleman, who is, E
confess, very dear to me, who’wished to see ma'
in private; and my only motive for sending
you the umbrella was to get you off the steps,!?
There is a story, perhaps forgottefl
by all but men who were students at a certaiij?
college near tairty years ago, of an enthusiastiq
professor of entomology not celebrated for hia
exercise of hospitality, who was so delighted afi
the arrival of an eminent pursuer of insects
that he invited him to bed and board in < chatnf
bers. Next morning, Dr. Macfly greeted hig
guest:
“And how did ye sleep the nicht, MestCi?
Beehemoth ?”
“Not very well; strange bed, perhaps ’f
But—‘
“Ah! quoth the doctor, eagerly, “ye weld
just bitten by something, eh ?”
“Well, to tell you tho truth, doctor, I was.’*,’;
. “ Just think of that 1 Bitten war ye ? Now»
can you say it was anything at all noteworthy,
that bit ye ? Peculiar, eli ?”
“ Fleas, I think. But such devils for biting J
never met in my life.” , - . ;
“I should think so, indeed (with great glee}."
They’re Sicilian fleas. I imported, them my 4
self !" -
The most ludicrous epitaph I eveJf
met with, says a writer in Cassell’s Magazine,
is to be found at Penosey, in Bedfordshire, ana
runs in this wise:
“ Here lies the body of
Lady O’Looney;
Great niece oi Burke, commonly
Called the Sublime.
She was
• Bland, passionate, and deeply religious;
Also, she painted in water-colors,
And sent several pictures to the Exhibition.
She was first cousin to Lady Jones,
• And of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.”
A few weeks ago, the birthday of a
private person was being celebrated at some
mn of the city of Wilna; and the cloth being
removed, as we say, toasts followed toasts and
songs followed songs. The company present
consisted of two Poles and three Germans,
neither of whom understood a word of Huss
sian ; and so the conversation was carried off
in German, a language with which they wer®
' all acquainted. lira little while it occurred to
one of the Polish gueits to sing a song m hi®
own tongue, no stranger being nigh, and th®
room looking out upon a dead wall. Early
next morning each oi these five gentlemen red
ceived through a Cossack a “pozew,”or de
cree, requiring them instantly to pay five rou
bles each, or to board tho Cossack until such
time as these roubles would bo ready. Mina
host himself was mulcted in thirty roubles; sa
that one Polish ditty enriched the exchequer of
the Czar by exactly fifty-five roubles. At th®
same time Austria is making the Polish lan
guage obligatory at tho University of Cracow.
Dn. Dupre, lecturer on chemistry afi
Westminster Hosp'tal, states in a paper oil
Wine, recently published, that pure, natural
wine may be considered to have arrived at mii
turity at the end of from five to twelve yearw
In that time, !;e remarks, tho slow chemical
changes which bottled wino undergoes, will
have produced their best effect; and after that,
“the wino no longer improves by keeping, ex
cept to the taste of a lew would-be connois
seurs.” But there are exceptions to this rula
—namely, wines unusually rich in quality, and
those which aro “fortified” by alcohol. Such
wines continue to improve up to tho end of
fifteen

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