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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, June 20, 1869, Image 6

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WE WILL LIFT A LITTLE.
Lift a little! lift a little!
Neigh oor lend a helving hand
To that heavy laden brother,
Who, for weakness, scarce can stand.
What to thee with thy strong muscle,
Seems a light and easy load,
Is to him a ponderous burden,
Cumbering his pilgrim road.
Lift a little! lift a little!
Effort gives one added strength;
That which staggers him when rising
Thou can hold at arm’s full length.
Not his fault that he is feeble,
Not thy praise that thou art strong;
It is God makes lives to differ,
Some from wailing, some from song.
Lift a little! lift a little I
Many they who need thine aid!
Many lying by the road-side,
'Neath misfortune's dreary shade.
Pass not by, like priest and Levite,
Heedless of thy fellow man;
But, with heart and arms extended,
Be the Good Samaritan.
THE POTOMAC SCOUT:
08, THE
Adventures of Sergeant Hogan,
BX CAPT. CONINGIIAM,
AUTHOR OF “FRANK O’DONNELL,” “SHERMAN’S
MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH,” “THE IRISH
BRIGADE,” &C., &C.
NUMBER IL
The Seoul's Second Trip—Friendly Traitors—
The Betrayers Betrayed—A Sharp Encoun
ter—Capture of the Blockade Runner—Ex
ecution of Crofton, the Deserter and Spy.
My first trip ns a blockade runner and scout
was quite successful; but I found it impossible
to convey my information to headquarters, for
the deserter’s statement had aroused suspi
cions, and I felt that I was watched. On join
ing the skipper’s crew, I found that Captain
Armstrong had a new hand, and despite the
fellow’s attempted disguise, I at once recog
nized in him Crofton, the deserter, who was
cent to act the spy upon me. This did not dis
concert me in the least; I treated the fellow as
if a perfect stranger; but was firmly resolved
to get rid of him the first opportunity. We
reached Baltimore in safety, and after a few
days, had on board a valuable miscellaneous
cargo of arms, clothing, whisky and coffee.
As we had to keep very quiet while in Balti
more, I had no opportunity of getting rid of
the spy ; but by my prudence, tact and energy,
cecured the friendship of Capt. Armstrong, and
allayed his suspicions if he had entertained
any. We returned safely to Layton Ferry, and
conveyed our cargo to the army. We had been
co successful that the captain and the rebel
officers were in high glee, and spoke freely of
the position of the troops, their plans and pro
jects. I was anxious to return to General
Hooker with my information ; but had to bide
my time. I had acquired very important in
formation relative to their blockade runners,
which led to the subsequent capture of several.
I had also learned how the mails from their
friends in the North, and within our lines,
were conveyed through our lines. Some
of the first families of Virginia, who pre
tended to be neutral, and held protection pa
pers from our generals, were m constant com
munication with the enemy, and through their
information several of our outposts and offi
cers were captured. I had letters to several
of these from their friends m Baltimore and
the army, and as I read the letters before de
livering them, I was fully posted about every
thing connected with the army and the treach
ery of our neutral friends. A Mr. Mason held
a protection paper, though he was at the same
time a candidate for the Confederate Congress.
The Stewarts, the Taylors, the Waltolis, the
Baxters, the Galamons, the Washingtons, and
ceveral other families were thus protected,
though most of them were at the time in secret
communication with the enemy.
I generally brought back answers to the let
ters, and on opening one addressed to a Cap
tain Ansley, I found it contained the informa
tion that some Federal officers were to visit
the house of the writer on the following night,
and that they could be easily surrounded and
captured, and requesting him to inform his
general of the fact.
With this, and several other important let
ters, I made my way to General Hooker’s head
quarters, and gave him all the information I
possessed. I also instructed him as to the
position of some Confederate gunboats on the
river, and the best manner of capturing Cap
tain Armstrong’s skipper on the next trip. We
also arranged that I should deliver the letters,
and that a squad of cavalry should lie in wait
for the rebels, and catch them m their own
trap. I at once made my way into the rebel
lines, and delivered my letters without attract
ing suspicion.
The following night a squad of twentv cav
alry men moved from the rebel camp, and so
thoroughly were they acquainted with the
country, tn at they siiently passed through our
outposts, and drew up near the plantation
house. They dismounted in a piece of woods,
and stole up to the house on foot. To their
nurprise, taey found the doors and windows
fastened, and not one of the inmates around.
The Federal officers had called, according to
promise, and after a little time they seized all
the inmates and locked them up in a safe
room, informing them that they were aware of
their treachery, and prepared to meet it. They
next barricaded the windows and doors, and
awaited the attack ; while a company of cavalry
were concealed in a valley in the wood, await
ing the first shot to sweep down upon the as- ;
eailants.
The rebel soldiers, finding the house closed
against them, tried to burst in the door, which
was answered by a volley from inside, with
fatal effect, as some of them fell killed or
wounded. They then returned the fire through
the doors and windows, but were soon sur
prised by the cavalry men, who swept on their ‘
rear.
A brisk fight ensued. xk? rebels fought
desperately, for they found themselves cut on’ I
-from their horses, and their only safety lay in
fighting their way through, but they could not i
the combined attack of the party in
side, who sallied out on them, and the cavalry <
put. and soon retreated as best they could,
each man for himself.
They lost sixteen men, killed, wounded, and
prisoners, and their horses ; while the others
had only one man killed and three or four i
wounded. •
'/his affair created! considerable consterna
tion in the rebel camp. It was evident that
there was treachery somewhere. Was it all a
ruse of Mr. ,to entrap them and curry fa- <
Vor with the Yanks ? This opinion would hold ■
good had he not been marched off to the Old :
Capitol and his house burned down. As I had
got all the information I wanted, I kept very
quiet in the skipper, and though the spy threw
but several hints anout me, I was not molested.
■ln fact, I had made myself so useful, and :
showed such devotion to the Confederacy, that
Captain Armstrong would not listen to any
thing against me. He looked upon me as most .
trustworthy, to which my vigilauce and exer
tions in Baltimore, in securing a good cargo,
largely contributed.
Oar blockade expeditions had been so suc
cessful that we had a large number of orders
for our next trip. Wo got safely back to Bal
timore.
At this time Lee’s army was on short rations.
Flour and bad pork were stintingly served out;
but as for tea, coffee, sugar, molasses, baker’s
bread and fresh meat—these were luxuries
unknown in camp, and our supplies were there
fore the more gratefully welcome.
At the time deserters reported Lee’s army
as ragged, starving and spiritless. Though
not generally believed, they had not overrated
the picture, as I well knew from experience.
Their commissariat was poorly supplied, and
the army was dispirited and daily reduced by
desertions. Add to this the fact that Lee had
only about fifty-five thousand effective troops,
while Hooker had on hand a splendid army of
nearly one hundred thousand men, well fed,
well clothed, and well armed. It is no won
der, therefore, that Hooker looked confident
ly to the opening campaign, and expected
it to result m the most glorious manner for the
Federal arms. The battle of Chancellorville,
which soon alter initiated the campaign of ’63,
dissipated these flattering hopes, and showed
utter mismanagement and bungling some
where on our side.
We succeeded in getting on board a first-rate
cargo. Arms, clothing and provisions were
liberally given us by several parties who had
taken the oath of allegiance, and were protect
ed by the Federal soldiers. I made a mental
note of them and gave their names at head
quarters. I often read severe comments upon
the arrest of peaceable citizens who had sworn
allegiance to the Union and the withdrawing
their protection from them.
If the writers of these sensational articles
but knew the real cause, and their treachery to
the very power that was affording them pro
tection, they would write differently. The au
thorities should quietly submit to these news
paper assaults, this “military despotism” and
“ infringement of the rights of citizens,” for
they could not reveal their sources of informa
tion.
Our cargo was worth several thousand dol
lars, and Captain Armstrong was in high spir
its at the large profits ho was sure to realize.
Everything looked promising. We had got
near A y as far as Mattox creek on the evening of
the 2Uth of March, and expected to cross the
Northern creek before day, and thus reach
Layton’s Ferry in safety. It was a lovely night,
bright and clear, with scarce a ripple on the
waters. We were scuddifig along under shel
ter of the Maryland bluffs. Captain Armstrong
was continually on the lookout, and as we
turned an angle in the river he startled us by
crying out:
“By G—d, there is a Yankee gunboat near
the opposite shore! and, by h—l, they see us!”
We all looked m the direction, and saw that
she was standing out toward us. Full sails
were set, and the little skipper ran along quite
gallantly, but it was evident that the race
would be short, as the gunboat put on full
eteam and was rapidly heading us.
The captain, seeing no chance of escape,
turned her piv w for the Maryland shore, in or
der to run Lei aground, but as we neared the
chore her helm became and as
the other was closing up on us, be and a few
others jumped out and swam ashore. I be
wailed my lot that I couid not swim, and said
that I might as well run the cnance of being
hung or shot as to be most certainly drowned.
1 inwardly enjoyed the terror and misery of
the spy, who, being unable to swim, had also
to submit to his fate.
The skipper was soon a prize, and the men
transferred to the gunboat, and placed under
arrest. I soon got a chance of letting the cap
tain know who I was. As he had instructions
to look out for me, he treated me very kindly.
The men were all committed to the Old Cap
itol prison on our arrival in Washington, ex
cept the spy (Crofton), who was sent back, un
der arrest, to his regiment, and soon after
court-mar tialed.
I now had my revenge for his attempt to get
me executed, and the death of my comrade
through him, as mentioned in a former sketch.
My evidence alone, without the fact of his be
ing a deserter and blockade runner, was suf
ficient to convict him. He was hung, and met
his fate, not with the heroism of my brave
comrade, but in the most craving, cowardly
manner.
[To bo continued.]
THE LAST DRINK;
OR,
The Death of the Bridegroom.
BY E. C. G.
"What harm can there be in an occasional
glass of wine ? Surely I have resolution enough
to take care, and not drink too liberally.”
“ Many men of greater talent, and stronger
minds than you, Oliver, have thought so, too,
yet with all thoir firmness they have finally be
come the irrevocable victims of intemperance,
and sunk to drunkard’s graves.
“But, my dear fellow,” argued the first
speaker, “you make really a serious matter
of my occasional and limited indulgences. I
think that drinking in moderation is not a very
difficult accomplishment. Men can be just as
intemperate in eating and smoking, for in
stance, a• in drinking. Wo must all be guard
ed enough not to over indulge in any of the
good things of life. Have no fears for me ; I’ll
never go to a drunkard’s tomb.”
“ I sincerely hope not. What you say re
garding eating, smoking, etc., is true. But
very few ever succeed in their endeavors to use
with sufficient care in alcoholic liquors. Wnere
one succeeds in sustaining through life the
character of the respectable tippler, thousands
fall to the debased condition of the habitual
drunkard.”
“ You. in a measure, I will admit, are right,
Caleb ; out I shall not fail to continue my con
fidence in myself, and take a social glass of wine
occasionally; You are always condemning a
jolly party who drown melancholy with the
‘flowing bowl.’ Of course I don’t uphold too
much of the thing. Your forte is temperance.
You should turn lecturer.”
“I wish for your sake I was an eloquent dis
courser on the subject. I would then combine
many brilliant ideas in a grand convincing lec
ture for your benefit. Your parents have, like my
own, always been strictly temperate and they
have taught their children to follow in their
worthy footsteps. I would be sorry, indeed, if
after the well known abstinence of the two
families, you, dear Oliver, should turn out to be
fond of indulging in stimulating drinks. Take
my advice. ‘ Touch not, taste not, handle not,’
as the old saying is, and then you are sure to be
right.”
“You are a strong advocate indeed,” said
Oliver, “ still I believe that at times a drink is
beneficial. 1 often become down-hearted and
melancholy; then I like a drink. The fact is,
Caleb, I am sick and tired of this continual
round of drudgery; day after day Igo over the
same ground, pursue tue same regular routine
of business, and at the end of the year I find
myself no better of than at its commencement.
Try as I will, I can’t save a cent, and this
makes my marriage day appear so far distant,
that I often quite give up m despair. I fear
that my Mira will grow tired of waiting for
me. At such times, if I did not drink once in a
while, I could not bear up.”
“Just so; you drink when you are sad, which
only aggravates your sorrow. The relief is only
temporary.”
“ Well, it may be so, Caleb, yet relief, tem
porary though it be, is desirable to a wearied
mind.”
“ If you will cut down the liquor account,
smoke less cigars, buy cheaper clothes, and
make it a rule, never to be deviated from, to
save something each week, there is no good
reason why you should not succeed in prevent
ing attacks of melancholia, which, you say,
cause you to drink. I never drink any stimu
lating liquors—my salary is less than yours;
yet last year I accumulated two hundred and
fifty dollars, and next twelve months I hope to
save three hundred more. When I get toge
ther a thousand, I’ll marry your Mira’s friend,
Ellen Wray. I would like to see a double wed
ding ; you can certainly do as well as I do.
Low spirits is no excuse for drinking. Make
further efforts; give up the wine, and lam
confident that, with a little mental exertion,
your success will be complete.”
The last speaker was Caleb Talton, a book
keeper for a mercantile house in New York.
His friend, Oliver Sutter, who held a similar
position in a wholesale grocery concern. Their
respective parents were persons in moderate
circumstances, who had brought up thoir chil
dren morally, and had given them such educa
tion as their limited means would permit.
At the time of the opening of our story, the
young men were then, as they had been for
for some years previously, depending upon
their own exertions for their livelihood. Ca
leb, of a more steady turn of mind, and less in
clined to a participation in the many frivolities
of the metropolis, than Oliver, had adopted
the right course. He always managed to save
a little; and, expecting no marriage portion
from his parents, had determined to make one
for himself.
The day had been agreed upon by Caleb and
his betrothed when they were to be united m
matrimony, and his heartfelt wish was that his
friend Oliver would be ready on that day to
lead to the altar Myra Leighton.
They were all friends together. There was
no opposition from stagey old fathers or am
bitious mothers; the kind parents of the two
couples were agreeable ; the arrangements
were perfect, and only awaited the tardy Oli
ver’s pleasure.
How many happy homes have been broken
up, families separated, friends made enemies,
and bright prospects forever blasted, by the
inordinate use of alcoholic drinks. I have seen
the young and prosperous merchant trans
formed from a tidy and dignified gentleman, in
a lew short years, to the miserable, tottering,
drunken pauper; the gallant soldier disgraced
—the insignia of his rahk stripped from his uni
form, and then drummed, a shunned and des
pised wretch, from his regiment. I have seen
the happy mother and wife, who so fondly
watched her husband’s return from his daily
labor, and who joyfully held forth her welcom
ing arms to clasp tho loved and manly form
with unfeigned delight, changed to a weeping,
trembling woman, who dreaded to hear the
footsteps of that husband, who had been trans
formed to a brutal vagabond, and whose curses
were his unnatural replies to her and her chil
dren’s cries for food.
All this and much more disgrace, shame,
crime, ruination and despair caused by the
“rum fiend.” who invariably comes off tho
victor in every combat with weak humanity.
As is generally the case, so it was with Oliver
Sutton—trouble, trifling trouble, his excuse.
First the single glass of wine, then two, three,
and more—then whisky, brandy, and bo on,
step by step, until the habit becomes second
nature, and the nerves so palsied that con
stant draughts of body and soul destroying
alcohol are almost as necessary as the air it
self, to sustain the diminishing vitality of the
fascinated victim of its terrible influence.
An increase of salary had been conferred
upon Oliver by his employers shortly after the
conversation no had with Caleb which we have
noticed, his bad habit not having as yet be
come known to the firm, nor thus far to his
relatives or his betrothed. On making Mira
acquainted with his improved pecuniary cir
cumstances, Oliver induced her to name tho
day, and a mutual understanding existing be
tween Caleb and bis loving and loved Ellen, it
was decided that the douole wedding should
take place on a certain evening in the follow
ing month, of September. AU parties interest
ed looked forward with pleasure to the coming
wedding day; great preparations were made at
the residence of the Wrays, where the antici
pated ceremony was to take place. But al
though Caleb looked forward with bright hopes
for the future, it was not without many mis
givings, as he noticed that notwithstanding
liver’s bettered condition as far as regarded
his business relations, he continued to give
way to the pernicious habit of au over indul
gence in intoxicating drinks. Caleb would fre
quently caution him, and begged him, time af
ter time, to “stop and consider” before ho
drank again. But Oliver would laugh the mat
ter off, call his adviser a “second Gough,” or
a “ Father Mathew,” and wind up sneenngly
with, “Ah, my dear boy, you will take many a
glass of pure Heidsieck with Mira and I after
the wedding 1” Or some other such unsatis
factory sentence, which was all the anxious
Caleb would receive for his solicitude.
A plain, unassuming three-story brick house
in a quiet street, after dark, (some years ago),
with all its windows illuminated from numer
ous wax candles, was a somewhat unusual oc
currence in D street, and caused consider-
able stir in that usually dull neighborhood.
That “twocouples were to be married that
evening at Mr. Wray’s,” had been pretty gener
ally circulated by the gossips]; and groups of
ragged urchins, curious Kitchen maids and
others crowded around the sidewalk in the
immediate vicinity of the entrance to that
domicil. Within was an animated scene of so
cial happiness.
The guests as they arrived wero kindly re
ceived by the estimable Mr. and Mrs. Wray,
. who were in turn heartily congratulated on
i the coming event. Beauteous Mira had ar
i rived, accompanied by her parents—a couple
i of the old school—early in the afternoon, and
1 was casting occasional and anxious glances to
ward the door as each new-comer made en
, trance, in the hope of discovering her intend
• ed, who had gone out about 4 P. M. to make
i some necessary purchases, which uo to that
I time had Peen overlooker
Imagine, reader, a female figure, tall, at
tractive and erect, whose graceful outlines were
modestly draped in pure white garments of del
icate texture-, surmounted by a wreath of
orange blossoms resting on an alabaster brow,
and irom which hung down in graceful folds
the bridal vail; from beneath looked out clear,
full, brilliant, deep blue eyes, in elegant con
trast with the long, light hair carefully looped
up in such a manner that the natural curls
were not so much disturbed as to prevent
tbeir hanging in giossy ringlets over a perfect
bust; features finely lined, rose-tinted cheeks,
fascinating, cherry lips, whose smiles display
magnificent pearly teeth—and you have before
you an incomparable personification of the un
equaled American blonde, in the form of Mira
Leighton.
Near by stood a gorgeous brunette, whose
dark eyes, black hair, and rather prominent
yet faultless features bespoke a nature capable
of intense love. Clothed also in white, she
looks grandly beautiful as she lifts her vail to
receive a kiss from Caleb, who has just entered
the room, to the delight of her, his loving El
len Wray.
“ Has Oliver returned yet?” inquired Caleb.
“No,” replied Mira and Ellen together.
“And,” continued Mira, “I cannot imagine
what detains him. He has been gone over an
hour. Surely, something serious must have
happened.”
“ Oh, no 1” laughed Caleb. “He’s not far off.
Have no fears. I’ll go and hunt up the run
away.”
But Caleb’s pleasant voice betrayed not the
agitation of his mind. He was acquainted
with Oliver’s weakness. Was the wine cup the
cause of his absence ? Caleb’s breast was agi
tated with the worst forebodings as he started
in search of his friend, a little alter five o’clock.
The ceremony was to take place at half-past
seven o'clock.
At seven the illumination was complete, and
Caleb had returned with no tidings of the miss
ing Oliver. Much agitation ensued. The
guests were all assembled; the Rev. Dr.
ad arrived, with Mr. and Mrs. Talton, also
Mr. and Mrs. Sutton. Everything was in read
iness. Where was Oliver?
* * * * * *
“Gome, boys, let’s have one more drink with
our friend Oliver, and then we’ll let him go.”
So said a flash-looking young man, one of a
party who were standing at a bar of a fashion
able drinking house not far distant from the
residence of the Wrays.
Among this party was Oliver Sutton. On
leaving his beloved that afternoon he had in
tended to make a few small purchases and im
mediately return. But as he neared the saloon
he was met by some friends who had induced
him to take “just one drink.” Having com
plied and received the hearty congratulations
of the party on tho coming event, drink after
drink followed, until he had become partially
inebriated, and he now declined the last bois
terous invitation, saying:
“My friends, I iully appreciate your good
feelings toward me, but at such a time I must
positively decline further invitations to in
dulge. 1 cannot remain longer with you to
day.”
Alas 1 Oliver, had you only carried out that
statement, you would have saved not only your
life, but perhaps your soul. But the one last
drink was insisted upon, and lacking the firm
ness of character to refuse, Oliver drank a
heavy dram of brandy. Another and still an
other drink followed, until, in a state of deep
intoxication, Oliver was escorted by his com
panions to within a door or two of the house
where awaited his anxious and almost distract
ed bride, bis relatives and friends. Leaving
Oliver standing there, they hade him good-by,
wished him joy, and departed.
Advancing with unsteady gait, Oliver as
cended the steps, and had placed his hand
upon the railing to steady his tottering foot
steps, when he reeled to one side, lost his hold
on the iron, and fell, striking his head heavily
upon the stone platform of the stoop. From
here he was earned by Caleb and others in a
bleeding and totally insensible condition to an
apartment within the house.
On the evening of that day, on my way home
from my place ot business, I stopped in the of
fice of my friend, Dr. , who at that time
had an office on one of our principal up-town
avenues. We were engaged in a pleasant con
versation, w’hon Caleb Talton hurriedly en
tered. In a few sorrowful and oolite words he
explained to tho doctor the accident which had
befallen his friend, and begged his immediate
attendance upon the suffering man. I was in
troduced to Caleb, and at the request of my
medical friend, I accompanied them to the res
idence of Mr. Wray. I never will forget the
solemnity of the scene which met my eyes as I
entered the room where lay the wounded Oli
ver.
'The preparations for the anticipated mar
riage ceremony were apparent in the gaudy
dresses of the assembled company, and which
I (on a closer look at the face of tho sufferer)
knew must soon bo changed for the sable cos
tume of mourners. The pitdbiis ebbs of &e
almost crazed Mira, an 1 the deep, unaffected
sorrow of tho patient’? parents, were most
affecting. The venerable himister of tho Gos
pel, with sympathizing and consoling words,
endeavored to direct tho thoughts of all on
high, and asked the aid of the Almighty to
sustain them in their great affliction. Tho
doctor had informed the grief-stricken parents
and bride that their loved one was already
within the grasp of death, and that no earthly
power could prolong his life but a few mo
ments ; that ho had received a fracture of the
skull, which was incurable. The company
knelt down in their wedding garments. The
man of God lifted his voice in prayer as the
sufferer’s soul passed into eternity. It was a
scene the solemnity of which will never be
effaced from my mind.
Some three years after the close of the coro
ner’s inquest over the body of Oliver Sutton,
Ellen Wray and Caleb were married.
Mira Leighton never recovered from the
weakening effects of the great affliction on her
delicate flame. She gradually fell into a de
cline, and died of consumption shortly after
she witnessed the marriage of Ellen and Caleb.
In a cemetery on Long Island in a secluded
spot, sheltered by graceful willow trees, and
where the flowers grow in profusion as the
Summer winds blow their fragrance o’er the
two graves, stands a single monument ;
BACBBD TO THE MEIIOKV
OF
OLIVER SUTTON
- Anß
MIRA LEIGHTON.
They lay side by side who so dearly loved
each other in life—sacrificed in their youth on
the destructive altar of intemperance, the vic
tim’s irresolution.
m im m the am.
A Reminiscence of the Old
Bntler House.
BX A. E. LANCASTER.
Many years ago, wandering among the pur
lieus of tho peanut-stands at the corner of
Eighth and Chestnut streets, Philadelphia, I
used to wonder whether the high brick walls
which enclosed the grounds of the old Butler
House contained any mystery, or whether that
mansion itself was responsible for any skeleton
resident in one of the many secret cupboards
with which my childish imagination honey
combed it.
Once only Was I ever inside that rambling
old mansion as a guest, and that must have
been twenty years ago.
On that occasion I was the witness of what I
considered two phenomena—one a material,
the other a social one. I bad been spending
the day with some other children whose par
ents resided there. At the dinner-table we
found ourselves seated opposite a remarkable
couple—a man advanced in years, and a young
woman with burning black eyes, a square,
massive jaw, but of unquestionable though
masculine beauty. This couple had been mar
ried just two months, and the remarkable fea
ture in the personnelle ot Mr. and Mrs. Chari
wood was as follows:
Mr. Charlwood’s hair was almost as white as
a floating cloud at noontide. It fell upon his
nock and around his shoulders in straight
linos, which curled under at their base in one
voluminous roll. It furthermore parted in the
middle, and subsequent information assured
me that no effort of tonsorial art had ever been
able to persuade those locks to separate with
masculipo propriety.
Mrs. Charlwood’s hair, however, which was
as fine as it was black, exhibited an obstinate
cowlick. It parted not only at the side, but at
the extreme side. She had evidently long
given up all idea of attempting to fight with
Nature—though this fact, as m the case of Mr.
Charlwood, I only learned afterward—and now
wore her hair in short curls, which, in connec
tion with her massive jaw, burning black eyes,
and passion-crimsoned lips, enhanced her bi
zarro beauty, and made her look more like a
handsome lad than a married woman. Not the
least of her singularities was her indifference
to her own deformity—if deformity it could be
considered, overbrightened as it was by so
much personal beauty. Perhaps she did not
know that from garret to basement of that old
house she was never spoken.of as Mrs. Chari
wood—always as “The Lady with the Cow
lick.”
The second phenomenon of which I have
spoken was in this wise:
Mrs. Charlwood wore a diamond ring of great
value, and during one of lhe courses that were
served, to the astonishment of every one at the
table, and not the least her husband, she
touched a delicate secret spring, which imme
diately ejected into his face a tew drops of per
fumed water concealed in the ring. I saw a
frown gather on Mr. Charlwood’s brow as he
wiped his face and glanced at the priceless and
malicious little toy on his wife’s finger. He
smiled the frown away, though, and glancing
beamingly around the table, went on with his
saddle of mutton. Mrs. Charlwood meanwhile
looked as demuro and unconscious as though
nothing had happened. In three minutes more
a second timo she touched the secret spring,
and a second time the bridegroom’s face was
■ perfumed. In ill taste as the joke was, some of
• the people at table burst into rude laughter.
This time the frown dispersed over Mr. Charl
i wood’s brow. With great control he restrained
, himself, wiped his face in silence, and without
a smile, and halfway turning toward iris wife.
NEW YORK DISPATCH.
said, in low tones, sufficiently distinct to be
beard from end to end of that long table:
“Madam, a joke like this may be pardoned
c-ace, as a joke; the second time it might be
looked over as a repetition, in exceedingly bad
taste ; but the third time, 1 should immediately
discharge the contents of this tumbler into
your lace!” And he sat down the glass of ice
water which he had raised to bis lips.
There was consternation at tue ainner-table,
ajid All’s. Charlwood turned pale. In another
moment she had recovered herself, and the
knives and forks wero in motion as before.
Everything was peaceful, and the contusion of
the dinner was near. As the coffee was being
served, I noticed Mrs. Charlwood make a slight
motion with her little finger. The perfumed
fountain in the ring was almost exhausted; yet
a few drops remained, and these perched them
selves on the chin of her husband and on his
elaborately wrought shirt-front. At the same
instant he had dashed a glass filled with water
into her iace an i upon the superb that
begirt her throat; and there was such a din
ner-table tableau as I had never witnessed be
fore, and certainly have never MJtnessed since.
Remembering the look of mingled humilia
tion and malignity which the lady with the
cowlick threw into her husband’s face, I can
better understand the events that happened
since. As she rose and passed from the room,
all in a tremble and suppressed rage, a young
Spaniard, named Dolores, who eat near the
door, opened it, and made her a deep obei
sance, which, even in that moment of confu
sion, I saw her acknowlenge.
Meanwhile Mr. Charlwood returned quietly
to hie mutton. You and I, reader, in the mean
time, will return to ours.
Air. Charlwood was the last of one of those
good old families of whom one hears so much
and sees so little, and whose distant hang
ers-on and connections cling to the family
name as though it were the last plank left to
them in a sea of genealogical wreck. He had
had several wives : had had children by some
of them ; but wives and children wero now
dead, and all his hopes of progeny lay in the
woman with whom he had had the decidedly
unpleasant contretemps that day at table.
Apparently both had made up their minds to
forgive and forget. In the latter part of the
evening they appeared together in the parlors,
as though nothing had happened. From that
day forward until the great event happened
which I am going to relate, nothing was ob
served in their mutual bearing that would have
been ungraceful in the relations of a happy
wedded pair.
After tne necessary lapse of time, Mr. Charl
wood was blessed with a son. He was by no
means reticent in concealing his joy. One
day, when ho was seated with his wife and
this cherub, when the latter had attained the
mature age of three, he announced his inten
tion of insuring the child’s life.
“In what company!” asked a gentleman
sitting near, one of the few boarders who had
remained an inmate of the Butler House since
tho first arrival of the Charlwoods there.
Mr. Charlwood mentioned the name of the
company.
“It is a very good company,” said the gen
tleman, rising and casting a look toward Airs.
Charlwood, who had her eyes bent upon her
worsted-work and was deadly pale. “It is a
very good one. You Americans manage these
things much better than we Spaniards do.”
And Senor Dolores left tho house and mounted
his horse for his afternoon’s ride.
“Yes, Dagmar,” said Mr. Charlwood, ad
dressing his wife, “I’ll go the first thing to
morrow morning. I am going to dine and
stay all night with a friend over in Jersey.
Good-by!”
And before he left he stooped and kissed the
three-year old child m whom all his hopes
centred. But he did not kiss Dagmar.
As he left the room, Airs. Charlwood drew
the child close to her and looked around with
an expression unutterable in words. The boy
was a beautiful one, and it was no wonder she
was proud of him. In accordance with one of
those phenomena which are sometimes wit
nessed in families, he resembled neither par
ent in feature nor in expression. His com
plexion was of a translucent brown, and, sin
gularly enough, his delicate dark hair parted
naturally at one side, and copied the defects of
neither parent.
Meanwhile Air. Charlwood spent the after
noon and evening at his friend’s house, called
the next morning at the office of the company
in which he intended to insure his child’s life,
obtained a prospectus, and announced his in
tentions, giving the name of the child, and fix
ing the amount of insurance. Having done
this, and attended to his business in the lower
part of the city, he found himself at the door
of the Butler House a few minutes before six.
His wife was not in the parlors. He ascended
to his room—she was not there.
Instead, he found his little son tied in his
chair, and crying aloud in the gathering dark
ness. He also found two letters, addressed to
him and standing upright against the inkstand
oh his writing-desk.
He lighted the laffips, took upon his lap the
child, now comforted by its father’s presence,
and read the letters in succession. "One bore
the initials of the insurance company m which
he had that morning insured his child’s life.
Reaching him so expeditiously, it must have
been sent by a special messenger. Wondering
what could be wrong, he tore it open and road
as follows:
“ Sir : We find it impossible to accede to your de
mand as to an insurance on the lite of a child named
Robert Charlwood. Said child’s life has already been
insured to a much greater amount by a man named
Elnesto Dolores.”
The second letter ran thus :
“ Sir: The discovery you make this day will in
some measure compensate me for the shame you put
upon mo four jears ago, two months after I became
your wife. The answer you will sooner or later re
ceive from the insurance company will save me the
necessity of telling a long story. Dolores, and not
Charlwood, as sure as there is a God above us, is that
child's proper surname I But since you take such
an interest in him, both Elnesto and I withdraw our
claims, and Elnesto within a day or two will with
draw his insurance. If my soul contained all the
hatred of hell, it could not hate you more than it has
hated you during the four past years. With these
words of hatred, and leaving you to enjoy your son
and heir, Elnesto and I bid you farewell. In the
fondness of a molder's first love, I instigated Elnesto
to that act of insurance which so tardily occurred to
your slothful brain. But I have got over that now,
and at my instigation he- withdraws it Seek where
you will, you will never more come face to with
“Dagmar.”
Let me hasten to the conclusion of this odd
reminiscence connected with a house once cel
ebrated.
Mental imbecility, complete by degrees, was
induced in old Mr. Charlwood by this astound
ing intelligence. In a few months he became
nothing but a mass of living flesh, without a
ray of mind existing. The letters found lying
open on the table by some prying inmates of
the house, when he was found lying in a state
of insensibility with the child screaming over
him, revealed facts which soon became ru
mored throughout the world m which he lived.
All that was ever heard of Elnesto and the
woman who accompanied him as his wife was
the mention made of them in foreign papers
among fhe fashionable intelligence. As for the
child—who would never have been brought in
to existence but for that rash third movement
of the perfumed drops—he was placed in an
orphan asylum. At the commencement of the
war he pleaded hard to be allowed to go, boy
as he was. In one of the engagements both
of his arms were shot off. During his assumed
.convalescence, and while the present writer
was making a journalistic round of the Wash
ington hospitals, these events were breathed
into his ears by that bright-eyed boy, who was
in reality dying. Within a few days more the
child was indeed dead, and I have done noth
ing more than linked together two reminis
cences, which, in relation to the once noted
Butler House, occurred to me at widely separ
ated points of my life.
A singular practice obtains among
Llaneros ; it is that of inoculation with the
juice of certain plants possessing alexipbarmic
virtues, after which the most poisonous snakes
may be handled with impunity. It appears,
nevertheless, absolutely necessary to renew
the inoculation at different periods of man’s
life, as in tho case of vaccination it loses its
Sower after a time. It was, no doubt, owing to
is neglect of tho‘rale, that a gentleman in the
town ot Ocumare, ‘some years ago, fell a victim
to this blind confidence in this sort of inocula
tion. Don N. Ugarte had kept a rattlesnake in
a drawer during four years. With it he occa
sionally amused himself, nomore harm result
ing therefrom than if it had been a kitten.
One day, on returning from his rounds on the
plantation, he felt in tho humor of playing a
little with his old pet, and accordingly took
him out of bis bertu and placed him on the
writing-desk before him. One of the children,
who had also been inoculated, happening to be
near, the father suggested that he should kiBS
the reptile. To this the child objected very
decidedly. The foolish parent, however, in
sisting, the mother interfered, and begged that
her child should not be compelled to touch tho
loathsome creature, whereupon the father ex
claimed, “ How foolish you are 1 I will show
you how it kisses me. Now then, pet, give me
«, kiss,” and so saying ho leaned forward to
ward the snake. True to its instincts, the rep
tile sprang to his lips and implanted such a
kiss that its master never recovered Irom the
effects. Both fangs of the snake went through
his upper lip, and he at once felt himself to be
mortally wounded. A physician was sent lor
without delay, but he expired before assistance
could reach him.
No woman likes to be called a
coquette; and yet how few can abstain from
coquetry when an opportunity offers itself I
No woman will admit she is a flirt, and yet how
very few can resign a chance to flirt with an
agreeable gentleman when such a flirtation be
comes an eligible indulgence 1 There is an ex
citement in the attempt to capture a man’s af
fections which is too inspiring, perhaps, to be
neglected; but there is an odium attached to
the excitement which no man relishes. They
love tho pursuit, but fear the character it oc
casions. And the same remark may apply
to men, in this context, as well as women ; for
male flirts are quite as abominable as female
ones ; and the man who loves to win, merely
for amusement, the affection of women, is no
more to be respected than tho woman who is
addicted to the game ot captivating, for tho
momentary pleasure it affords tho hearts of
fflcm
; POLICE TRIALS.
)
BEFORE COMMISSIONER BOSWORTH.
During the week there were at least a hundred and
' fifty policemen put under discipline by trial.
Clougher, of the Fifteenth Precinct, was dismissed
from the force tor arresting a colored coachman in
front of Grace Church. The evidence satisfied the
Board that he should be dismissed, but it did not
satisfy listeners in Court. They also dismissed Geo.
Ackerman, of the Twenty-third Precinct, for Jailing
to arrest a burglar. In this case the officer, through
hesitation or fear, knowing that improper characters
were in the place, permitted the thieves to escape.
A HACKMAN’S SQUABBLE.
Officer Keannclly, of the Twenty-sixth Precinct,
was charged with making an improper arrest of citi
zen Goodwin, a hackman. The facts in the case are
these: Keannelly is a hack inspector, whose duty it
is to attend steamboat landings and look out for the
interests of passengers. On the afternoon of the day
of the alleged allair, a lady and gentleman stepped
off the Albany boat and were immediately saluted
with the stereotyped cry of “A hack, sir? —a hack,
sir?” They said they wanted to go to the Astor
House, when one hackman said he would drive them
for seventy-five cents each. That bait did not take,
when another hackman said he would take them both
for seventy-five cents. Goodwin thed called up the
driver of the Astor coach, and gave the customers to
him. The officer objected to Goodwin soliciting pas
sengers, and told him that the Astor House man
would charge them seventy-five cents a piece; they
could save their money by taking a down-town car,
and they could get to the hotel for six cents each. This
occasioned considerable "tall” swearing among the
hackmen, and one offered to take them to the hotel
for nothing. The lady and gentleman became bewil
dered, and acting on the officer’s advice, left and got
into a down-town car. Balked at losing two passen
gers, Goodwin chafed the officer so that he thought
he was justified in arresting him as a disorderly per
son, lor using profane language, and also for solicit
ing passengers without a license. Goodwin may
have been a disorderly person, but it could hardly be
said that he solicited passengers; if he did, then hun
dreds of innocent persons would be liable to arrest
every day. When the gentleman said he wanted to
go to the Astor House, and Goodwin saw that he
could not get the passengers himself, he beckoned to
the Astor House driver. The officer in defence said
that there was a ring of swindling hack drivers, who
prevented honest men from getting a fare, they
worked so into each other’s hands. As for the man that
offered co take them for nothing, he was arrested re
cently for charging a boy five dollars for driving him
three blocks; that strangers went into the Astor
House coach on the supposition that they were to be
driven to the hotel free, but when they got there they
had to fork over seventy-five cents, no matter how
short the distance, and longer distances ac the same
rate. He claimed that he was only doing his duty in
fighting this hackney “ ring.” The case was sent to
the Board to be acted on.
A FLAW IN THE COMPLAINT.
Somebody is to blame at headquarters for the way
complaints are got up. One womd almost think that
some of the blunders are purposely made, to acquit
the officer. In was so in the case of Allan, of the
Fifteenth Precinct, who was charged with being in
toxicated and doing dirty things in the station-house.
The proof was that the occurrence took place on the
second story; the complaint that it occurred on the
third story; the time set forth in the complaint was
the 4th, whereas Allan was on duty at that date, not
in the station house, and the proof was that it took
place on the 2d. Caffrey, in acknowledging the mis
take, said the date made very little difference; any
day would suit, as Allan was never sober. The case
was dismissed, with orders to make a new complaint.
If what was sworn to is not disproved, Mr. Allan may
make up his mind to the fact that he is as good as
dismissed from the department.
‘ ESTABLISHING A CHARACTER.
The police trial room is a very poor place to go to
in search of a character. If an appeal is made to that
tribunal, a cnaracter will be found, but not always of
a desirable nature. So found it Mrs. Anna Higgins,
of No. 169 Thompson street, in her complaint against
Post, of the Eighth Precinct. She said that she
was standing at her gate on Sunday evening, when
the officer came across the street aud pushed her in,
and shoved her with his club, said he would put $lO
out of her way. He went up the street and came
back, and the same thing, while she stood there all
alone in front of her own house.
Bosworth—Tuere is something here about a dollar.
Witness—That was when I was at the stable he
came up and asked the loan of a dollar. I said no
not a cent. That was two weeks ago to-night. I did
not know the officer. It was about o’clock at
night when he asked the loan. My husband, who
works at Crowe’s stables, doesn’t get paid till 9. I
was speaking to no man: but you, (the officer), insult
me wherever I go, on account of the woman that had
mo arrested for slander. Am not in the habit of so
liciting men.
Now, here is what Officer Larue says of her: “She
is m the habit of standing in the street and solicit
ing men. On several occasions I had to speak to
her. On one occasion she walked the streets with
three or four loose characters.”
Hugh O’Riley says of her: "I arrested this wo
man a year ago for being disorderly in the street.
She stopped no less than six men in one night. She
stopped a couple of men at Green aud Laurens
street, but she was on the Eighth Ward side. She
claimed to.be a married woman, and in Court called
up her husband. She had to call him half a dozen
times before he came up. Judge Ledwith asked if
he couldn’t support his woman. H made no an
swer and walked out of Court. The complaint was
dismissed.
IMPROPER WOMEN AND ROTTEN EGGS.
There were two complaints against Joster, of the
Fifth Precinct; the first was talking seventeen min
utes to two improper women. The roundsman
timed him ten minutes, then walked round the
block, and when he come baca he was still talking.
He had no defense to offer. The second charge was
again being engaged in chin music, this time with
Officer Hannan. He said he was talking to his broth
er officer about a barrel of rotten eggs that he
thought about reporting to the Board of Health. In
corroboration of what ne said he pulled out of his
pocket what purported to oe one of the rotten eggs,
but unfortunately it could noither be sworn or give
evidence. Bota cases were referred to the Board,
which means a possibility of dismissal. The Court
stenographer shou.d have attached that rotten egg
to his notes.
AN OFFICER IN A FIX.
Officer Daniel McAuliffe, of the Sixth Precinct, was
charged by Officer Robert Corrigan, of the Second
Precinct, with failing to arrest a prisoner. Corri
gan’s story was substantially as follows: He nad been
detailed to attend the races at Jerome Park. When
he returned in the evening he was excused doing
duty till 12. He left the station-house in citizen’s
clothes, with two other officers, and passed the even
ing in the Bowery, a portion of the time in Tony Pas
tor’s. On their way down town the three officers
went into the Atlantic Garden and had a glass of
beer. When in there he saw a “white German citi
zen” hit by another man, and he went out to get an
officer to make the arrest for disorderly conduct.
When he came back somebody hit him in the jaw.
It was one of a party of three men, w hich he could
not say. He saw McAuliffe outside, and asked him to
make the arrest; but as Corrigan, who claimed to be
an officer, and might with his two brother officers
have made the arrest, did not do it, and could not
tell who struck the blow, he declined to make any
arrest. Corrigan says that he went io the opposite
side of the street, where an unknown person knocked
him senseless with a slungshot. When he recovered
his senses, his assailant was fleeing round the cor
ner, and McAuliffe stood on the opposite side of the
street. He swore that he drank but one glass of beer
that whole day, and that he was not in the place over
five minutes. A number of witnesses that were m
the Atlantic Garden at the time swore that he stood
in front of the bar at least an hour, and it was against
all reason to suppose that he only punished one glass
of beer. A number of witnesses swore that he was
very much under the influence of liquor; that he was
the only disorderly person in the place; that he kicked
up all the row; that he did not know himself that he
was struck; that to get rid of him, while two hun
dred people sat at the tables, the lights were
turned out a quarter of an hour before closing
time. Corrigan then went down to tne Sixth Ward
station-house in a very excited manner, took out his
shield, threw it on the desk, and said he was an
officer, and his number was 200. He was told to keep
cool, when he became more excited, and gave the
desk another rap, and said he would get satisfaction;
if not there, at least at headquarters. Captain Jour
dan believing he was drunk, smelt his breath, and
found it smelt of liquor, and told him if he didn’t
keep quiet he would lock him up. He believed the
man was under the influence of liquor. The com
plaint against McAuliffe was dismissed, but a charge
was ordered to be preferred against Corrigan for be
ing drunk and disorderly. That is what might be
caked turning the tables.
ABSENT WITHOUT LEAVE.
Bernard Foster, of the Fifth Precinct, was absent
without leave. It was his day off till six o’clock,
when he went up town to see Officer Lambrecht. He
ana Lambrecht went over to Hoboken and had a good
time —so good indeed that when he returned to the
city he was fifteen minutes late. On finding that his
platoon had gone out, he thought it no use to report
himself at the station-house, but went home and
turned into bed, and did not report himself till the
following day. On the back of the papers was the
ominous endorsement “D. D,” which means dismiss
from the department.
A GRAVE MISTAKE.
James Walker, of Edge water, Richmond County,
was charged with illegally arresting citizen George
W. Daley of Staten Island. The mistake turns out
not so much in the arrest as it does in assuming the
functions of a Justice, in discharging his prisoner
while on the way to the station-house. It appears
that there Was an election at Edgewater, aud Mr.
Daley made himself quite officious at the polls. He
stood at the window of the election room, and in
structed the Inspectors in their duties. He was told
twice to get away from the window, and Walker went
out to put him back from it. Daley thought the of
ficer was joking, when Walker took hold of him and
shook him, and declared him his prisoner. Daley ob
jected to being dragged through the streets when
there was a little struggle. Finally Daley walked off
in the custody of the officer, and they got in a car
riage. They got out of the carriage, and were about
going in the cars when Daley begged not to be locked
all night. Walker said if he wou d behave himself,
and promise not to go back to the polls and enterfere
with the election, he would let him go. He gave
that promise, and was liberated. The Inspectors did
not order Daley’s arrest, they merely requested him
to be put back from the window. He was very pro
fane in his language. If the officer was justified in
making the arrest, he had no right to discharge him
after taking him in custody. Tne case was referred
to the Board,
A CURIOUS COMPLAINT.
Franz Walther, of No. 101 Spring street, made a
complaint against Officer Post, of the Eighth Pre
cinct. Complainant, however, failed to appear and
' prosecute. In his affidavit he states that he caused
the arrest ot a man for assaulting him. He followed
the officer to the station-house and made the com
plaint. From the station-house they went to court,
' and when the prisoner was taken up before the judge
i and the case disposed of, the officer never called
him up to make his affidavit. The story of Post is
r quite different, remarkably so, showing how two
i versions of the same affair may be told. Post says
he saw two men, Walther and another man, fighting
in the street, Walther was sober, but the other man
who acted on the offensive was intoxicated. Post
' arrested the other man, and Walther followed them
J to the station-house. The officer made the charge of
> drunk and disorderly against his prisoner, after that
r had been entered in the blotter he turned round and
- made a prisoner of Walther, preferring the charge of
r disorderly conduct. He then took both of his pris
. oners up before Justice Dodge, who fined them ten
' dollars each. That is Post’s version oi the affair.
The case was dismissed.
> A SIMILAR CASE.
3 Officers Ferguson, McClintock, and Corkey, were
3 put on trial by a woman named Mary Hamilton, who
f gave her residence as No. 18 Vandam street, but no
person of that name Jives there. She alleges in her
complaint that these officers have been for years fol
lowing her. She no sooner gets a situation than they
defame her to her employer when she is discharged.
Ferguson and Corkey swear they never saw the wo
man, never heard of her, and McClintock says he has
not seen her in eight years, and then when he knew
her she was a miserable drunkard, seldom ever
sober. Case dismissed.
At the opening of the Court on Friday, Judge Bos
worth iniormod the police that he regretted to find
that complaints against officers were increasing ;
charges of being off post, and standing talking with
citizens had become so common, that it was necessa
ry to inflict much larger fines than heretofore. The
Board would, after this, impose fines to the utmost
extent that they had the power given them by the
Legislature, end on a second offence, they would dis
miss the offender from the department. They must
and would have discipline in the foroe. That’s plain
enough language.
DISMISSED FOR INTOXICATION.
Three quarters of an hour was occupied in the trial
of Officer Wm. Underwood, of the Forty-first Pre
cinct, who was charged with being intoxicated in the
street by Roundsman John Barr. The specification
read; “ Intoxicated when on duty, and using abusive
language to a superior officer.” Barr said an old
lady first called his attention to Underwood, and said
he must be drunk; then a man spoke to him, and
said the officer was under the influence of liquor;
afterward he saw the officer followed by a crowd of
boys into an alley. When he saw the officer first he
walked fast and pretty straight, occasionally stagger
ing. Finally he came to a halt by an awning-post,
and came very near falling; he then saw the rounds
man for the first time, and waited till he came up;
when he came up, he saluted him with, "You are
John Barr, the loafer,” or a word worse than that in
effect. He made other offensive remarks, when Barr
took him to the station-house, where he made other
offensive remarks. He was pronounced drunk, and
on being sent up stairs, he managed the feat on all
fours; he had not been long up when he came down
in citizen’s clothes, and had a conversation with Ser
geant Temple, who was kept half an hour under ex
amination to get a straightforward statement of what
Underwood said to him, and he to Underwood. At
last it came out that Underwood and Doorman Rus
sell had been drinking together, and that he (Under
wood) had got full. Messrs. Manierre, Smith, and
Bosworth, took a vote on dismissing him from the
department. The vote was unanimous, and Under
wood surrendered his shield.
Judge Bosworth said it was the duty of the ser
geant then to have sent for the doorman to see if he
too was “full.”
Sergeant Temple said as the doorman was off duty
he diu not think it any of his business.
Judge Bosworth gave the sergeant to understand
that it was; an officer found either off or on duty
under the influence of liquor would be dismissed
from the department.
SPECIMEN FINES.,
* Patrick Higgins, of the Sixteenth Precinct, was
timed in a mnk depot fifteen minutes. Fined five
day’s pay.
Kearney, Thirteenth Precinct, smoking a cigar for
the toothache—fin-ed two days.
Rayner, standing by a bakery door a minute to
leave his rubber coat, fifteen minutes after leaving
the stadon-house—fined two days.
AN UNFORTUNATE MISTAKE.
Citizen James P. Snow was walking down Bleeck
er street, at 8 o’clock in the evening, with his daugh
ter when they were met by Officer Holmes, of the
Eighth Precinct. The officer stopped them, and asked
tne gentleman if ho knew who the lady was he was
walking with. The gentleman inquired why he
asked the question. The officer says that in looking
at the .ady’s face he saw he was mistaken. She was
dressed the same as a young “ cruiser” that he had
seen twice the same night soliciting gentlemen. The
moment he saw his mistake he apologized and
walked on. That neighborhood was infested with
young street walkers, and he had had frequent com
plaints made to him to clear the streets. He did
not mean to insult the gentleman, and was sorry for
it. As the complainant did not appear, and some
doubt existed as to his having received a summons,
the case was adjourned.
SINGULAR SHOOTING CASE.
Roundsman Buckingham, of the Forty-seventh
Precinct, was charged with maliciously and care
lessly shooting a Mrs. Lowery. Mrs. Lowery’s child
was bitten by a dog belonging to a Mrs. Burns. Au
thority was given to Buckingham to kill it. He took
it to the yard of the station-house to dispatch it, and
Mrs. Lowcrey followed to see it when dead. She re
mained in the sitting room of station-house with her
back to the wail. Three shots were fired, but at the
first shot found a sharp pain in her back. A bullet
had lodged there. Buckingham, and another wit
ness corroborated him, that when he fired his back
was to the station-house. He claimed that the ball
went through the dog, struck a rock, rebounded and
went through a one and a half inch plank, and then
lodged in Mrs. Lowerey’s back. That was a tall
story, so remarkable that Judge Bosworth thought
he would leave the case to the Board.
We glean the following interesting
summary of the various changes effected in the
musket from Dr. Hermann Meynert’s “ History
of the Military Art and Organization of Arm
ies,” the third volume of which has lately
come out at Vienna. The musketeer was, as
late as 15G9, provided with a heavy wooden
fork, which he had to stick into the ground with
the prongs uppermost, to serve as a support
to his matchlock, which he had to load with
his powder horn and measure, keeping them
all the while between his lips. The wadding
he had got from his hat. Nevertheless, the
wheel-lock, provided with pyrites instead of
flint, had been invented, but seems never to
have come into general use in armies, except
for cavalry pistols. The French lock which
preceded the percussion system was invented
as early as though it of course received
successive improvements. But even before
that time Gustavus Adolphus had introduced
a great improvement in musketry, by reducing
the weight of the piece to 101 b. instead oi 151 b.
This enabled the soldier to do away with the
fork, and therefore increased the rapidity of
the fire ; the bullet weighed an ounce. Another
improvement of his was the paper cartridge,
which, however, at first only contained the
powder ; the bullets being kept in a bag. The
iron ramrod, did not supersede the wooden one
until 1742, when it was introduced into the
Prussian army by Prince Leopold of Anhault-
Dvssau. The bayonet was preceded by various
contrivances, such as an axe attached to the
barrel, a dagger, etc., stuck into the latter.
But as this was an impediment to firing; a
ring was added, anout IG9I, to the bayonet
whereby the blade instead of covering the
muzzle, came to be flush with its rim. This,
however, was still inconvenient for loading, so
that at length the bayonet was provided with a
neck, as it is now. This was about 1705.
A story is told of Lady Beacon
field’s devotion to her lord and his ambition,
which, if true, is a touching commentary on
the unselfishness of womanly affection. On
one occasion, when Disraeli was Chancellor of
the Exchequer, his wife accompanied him to
the Parliament House. It was “Budget”
night—the most momentous of all sessions to
the Chancellor of the Exchequer, for he had to
unfold his financial plans for the ensuing year
to a critical and not too easily satisfied House.
Disraeli, as he took his seat in the carriage,
was wholly wrapt up in his subject and his
figures; it was a crisis in his career ; if he
failed this night, he might take Woolsey’s ad
vice to Cromwell, “Fling away ambition!”
His wife entered the carriage also, softly, so as
■not to disturb the thinker. In getting in, how
ever, her finger was caught by the door, which
shutting upon it, jammed it terribly, and held
it so fast that she could not withdraw it; She
uttered no cry ; made no movement; her pain
and agony must have been intense. There
was the finger crushed between the panels : to
speak or to endeavor to withdraw it would dis
turb her lord—would drive the figures and ar
guments from his head. So there stayed the
finger, every moment more painful, until they
reached the House; nor did Disraeli hear a
word of it till long after the famous debate of
that night had become history. All that even
ing the faithful wife sat in the gallery, that her
husband’s quick glancing eye might not miss
her from it; she bore the pain like a martyr,
and like a woman who loves. No wonder that
by her husband’s act she has become Viscount
ess Beaconsfield; still less wonder that, as
Lady Beaconsfield, she is honored in England’s
proudest castles, and has taken her place m
the hereditary society as naturally and easily
as if she, too, had been “ to the manner born.”
Weird fancies have always found a
congenial atmosphere within the breast of the
Teuton ; and it was most conspicuously by Ger
man emperors and princes that the spagyric
art—so called, in tact, from a Teutonic word,
spahen, to search—was cultivated or patron
ized. During the fifteenth century it came to
be professed by a number of adventurers,
“wandering alchemists,” as they were styled,
who strolled from court to court, sometimes
gaining great political influence over their pa
trons, as, for instance, Hans von Dornberg did
over the Landgrave of Hesse; sometimes expe
riencing the tragic fate of those who sink from
great men’s favor by a too daring swimming
on bladders. The first personage of pre-emi
nent degree who kept a regular “court al
chemist” was Barbara, wife of the Emperor
Sigismond. She had been instructed, so the
story goes, by a wandering sage how to make
silver out of copper and arsenic, and to in
crease the substance of gold by the addition of
copper and silver. This metal, on which, at
all events, imperial power could pass the fiat
of currency, she benevolently sold to the poor
as genuine me tai. The Margrave John of Bran
denburg was so great a proficient in the labors
of the crucible that he was surnamed “ the Al
chemist,” and his residence at the Plassonburg,
near Culmbach, was a headquarter of the pro
fession. His fame, however, was outdone in
the following century by that of tho Emperor
Rudolph 11., whoso soubriquets were “the
Prince of Alchemy” and “ the German Hermes
Trismegistus.” His superstitious dreams,
which cost the empire dear at a time when in
tellect and energy were required to steer her
through her troubles, gave an impetus to
“ gold cookery” throughout his dominions such
as it never received before or after.
There is something instructive as
well as amusing in the following story, which
is told by a correspondent of the German lie
form Messenger, of the impression made upon
a European traveler by witnessing the eager
ness of Americans for newspapers:
He hastily approached me with eyes gleam
ing with admiration and delight. “What a
wonderful race the American people are 1” was
his earnest outburst. “ Every man with his
newspaper I See the drayman there sitting on
his dray, eagerly reading his newspaper; and
that hackman, mounted on his perch, with his
whip on his knee, diving into his newspaper ;
and see that laborer, stopping on the corner to
buy his newspaper ; and yonder that paver, re
pairing the levee, with a newspaper just stick
ing out of Ute pocket, where he has just placed
Sunday Edition. June 20.
A Connecticut skipper, part owner
of a small brig, made a passage to Hong Kong
every year; but how he got there few could
tell, as he knew nothing of navigation beyond
what the stars told him; but he went to and
iro regularly, and made no mistakes, doina:
well for himself and all parties. He escaped
the damage of all the typhoons by guarding
against them, and this was another marvel.
Once he came home with a service of plate that
had been given him by several English ship
masters for advising them of the approach of a.
typhoon. They had seen him, on a bright day,
housing his masts and securing his vessel •
and, on asking him the reason, he told them &
typhoon was coming. Such of them as acted
on his advice and followed his example, saved
their vessels, for the typhoon came and blew
big guns, destroying those who had disre
garded his admonition. The gift of plate fol
lowed, but the old skipper refused to give them
the secret by which he knew the gale was com
ing. He kept it with equal pertinacity from
his own people, also, and for years after ho had
left the sea it was not known. One day, how
ever, during very clear weather, the old cap
tain had a severe rheumatic twinge, and cried
°ut, “Send down the to’gallant masts, a ty
phoon is coming I” And thus his secret was
divulged.
A Berlin correspondent writes; “A
strange process, of which perhaps you have
heard, and in which an English life assurance
company is interested, has tor some days en
gaged the attention of the Berlin public. A
bookbinder bound himself in writing to two
merchants to destroy himself after six months
by means of a poisonous berry, traces of which
are not easily discovered. Eor this his accom
plices insured his life in two companies, and
the sum was to bo divided between the two fine
fellows and the family of the future suicide.
In order, however, to justify the Insurance, tho
latter drew bills which pretended a debt to the
accomplices, and the acceptance of which was
forged. They thought the thing was without
danger, as, on the discovery of the forgery, the
forger would already bo beyond the reach of
human justice. When, however, the time for
fulfilling his purpose came, his courage failed
the would-be-self-murderer, and he drew back,
clinging to life. His two accomplices had now
the audacity to denounce this forgery before
the justice. By this, however, the whole trans
action came to light. The tribunal has not yet
pronounced judgment, and the decision is
awaited with interest.”
Townshend, a London detective,
was, for hiS’daring exploits and general good
conduct, selected by the Home Office to attend
at drawing-rooms, levees, and all State occa
sions, and he became a kind of notable, and
was much noticed by the Royal family and tho
great people of the day; every one went up to
speak to Townshend. He was eccentric and
amusing, and somewhat inclined to take ad
vantage of the familiarity with which he was
treated ; but he was a sort of privileged per
son, and could say what he liked. On one oc
casion the Duke of Clarence recommended
Townshend to publish his memoirs, which he
thought would be very interesting. /Towns
hend, who had become somewhat deaf, seemed
rather surprised, but said he would obey his
Boyal Higjiness’s commands. A low weeks
afterward Townshend was on duty at Carlton
House, when the Duke asked him if he had
fulfilled his promise. His answer was :
“ Oh, sir, vou’ve got me into a terrible
scrape 1 I had begun to write my amours, as
you desired, when Mrs. Townshend caught ma
in the act of writing them, and swore she’d be
revenged; for you know, your Royal Highness,
I was obliged to divulge many secrets for which
she’ll never forgive me.”
The manager of the Alfred Thea
tre, in Portman-market, last week struck out a
brilliant idea, which has had an unexpected
and very undesirable result. He could not see
why ladies should not visit this theatre be
cause they had babies, whom they could not
conveniently leave at home; neituer could ha
see why the performances should be inter
rupted by the noise which oven the best con
ducted babies will occasionally make in a thea
tre as elsewhere. He accordingly established
a “ babies” cloak-room,” where tho infants
might be left in the care of attendants, who
would look after them while their mothers
were enjoying the domestic drama. The plan
answered capitally, only some of the babies
were never asked for, and the too enterprising;
manager found that the Royal Alfred Theatro
was being rapidly converted into a supple
mentary Foundling Hospital. Ho has’ an
nounced that no more babies will be received,
and the poor little creatures left on his hands
must be consigned to the workhouse, where, it
is to be hoped, they will find better friends than
the heartless creatures who call themselves
mothers.
The shop of an umbrella maker
named Antiguac, at Beauvais (Oise), was no
ticed the other day to be unopened. It was
broken open, and the family were found dead,
suffocated by the fumes of charcoal. The hus
band was sitting on a sofa, his wife by his side,
reclining her head on his shoulder/and their
daughter, a widow, aged thirty, lying on the
bed. The cause of this triple suicide appears
to be connected with the following circum
stances : Six months ago a railway guard en
tered the shop to make a purchase, and drop
ped there two coupons of 25f. each. A fort
night back Mme. Antiguac presented these two
securities at their bank, but payment was re
fused, as notice of the loss had been given. An
immediate inquiry ensued, and Antignac, who
is considered to be worth two hundred thou
sand francs, paid the fifty francs ; but as tho
public prosecutor had intervened, the case was
about to be carried before the Correctional
Tribunal. The affair seemed to have preyed
upon the mind of the deceased and the other
members of the family, and in order to avoid
the scandal of a trial, they committed suicide.
Madame X., an elegantly-dressed
lady, lately entered one of the Parisian em
poriums of fashion, and requested to see some
Valenciennes lace, but after some time, not
finding any to suit her, withdrew without mak
ing any purchase. She had, however, been ob
served by one of the shopmen to slip a piece of
goods under her shawl. Nevertheless she re
turned home, as it were, unnoticed, but on
reaching the door of her house was accosted
by a messenger, who handed her a small par
cel and a letter which was thus worded: “Mad
ame—l am afraid that the fifteen yards of laca
which you selected in my shop will not be suf
ficient to trim your dress ; I therefore take the
liberty of sending you a second piece the same
pattern. I beg to be informed whether you
accept it.” The signature was that of the mas
ter of the establishment. It is needless to say
that the lady was only too glad to escape, by
prompt payment for the whole, from some very
unpleasant consequences.
The French courts have been occu
pied debating the exact price of a merchant’s
nose—not one m pasteboard, plaster, or silver,
but one in flesh and bone. A merchant was in
the habit of taking, every Saturday evening,
the train known as the “husbands’ train,” to
see his wife and olive branches at the sea-side.
To reach the little village, it was necessary to
travel some miles by a public vehicle, and on
one occasion, owing to careless driving, tho
coach was upset, and the merchant thrown,
against a rock, and thereby lost half his nose.
The court at Rouen awarded him l,ooof. dam
ages. He appealed. The company alleged
that if he was a young, unmarried man, the
loss of such an ornament would militate against
his chances of a match. The court ruled a mar
ried man had greater want of the perfect ap
pendage, and increased the damages five fold.
Miss Muloch tells us that it takes a
heroine to be economical; for will not many a
woman run in debt for a bonnet than wear hec
old one a year behind the mode ? give a ball,
and stint the family dinner for a montn alter ?
take a large house" and furnish handsome re
ception rooms, while her household huddle to
gether anyhow? She prefers this a hundred
times to stating plainly, by word or manner,
“My income is so much a year—l don’t care
who knows it—it will not allow me to live be
yond a certain rate, it will not keep comforta
ble both my family aud acquaintance, therefore
excuse my preferring the comfort of my family
to an entertainment of ray acquaintance. And
society, if you choose to look in upon us, you
must just take us as we are, without any pre
tences of any kind ; or you may shut the door,
and say good-by!”
Deacon Barnes, of Ohio, a very
pious man, was noted for his long prayers, es-*
pecially in his family. One morning the dea
con and his wile were alone, and as was hia
usual custom after breakfast, a prayer was of
fered. There being an unusual amount of work
that dav, the deacon’s prayer was short. Ho
seized his hat and milk-pail, and started for
the barn. His wife, being very deaf, did not
notice his absence, but supposed him to be still
engaged in prayer. On his return from milk*
ing he was surprised to find her still kneeling.
He stepped up to her and shouted “ Amon,”
when sne immediately arose and went about
her work as if nothing had happened.
it for further reading as he has leisure. So I
have seen it in every American town and city.
There is nothing like it in Europe. No other,
people, through all its ranks, can be so versed
in the current information of the country and
world. Wonderful people these American peo-<
pie,” was his pointed summing up, as if to hint
at the profound prophecy embodied in this
very popular phrase and fact. This expression
brings up to view the vast educational valua
and effect of the newspaper, secular or reli
gious, civil or individual interest—molding and
fashioning national, social, or political char
acter.
In all the actions which a man per
forms, some part of his life passes. We dio
while doing this for which alone our sliding
life was granted. Nay, though we do nothing,
time keeps its constant pace, and flies as fast
m idleness as in employment. Whether
play, or labor, or sleep, or dance, or study, tha
sun posts on and the sand runs. An hour of
vice is as long as an hour of virtue.
All differences between the Union
Pacific and Central Pacific Railroad Companies,
regarding through r.ates to Sacramento and
San Francisco have now been settled. Tima
by this route, eight days. The fare is $l7B 85-
I currency.

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