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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, July 18, 1869, Image 1

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The New York Dispatch,
SS-A SECOND EDITION, contamine the Utertnews
from Oil Quarters, published on Hnndaj moraine.
OS- The NEW Y ORK DISPATCH is told bl all Newt
Agents in the City and Suburbs at TEN CENTS PER
C OPY. All Mail Subscriptions must be paiu in advance.
Canada Subscribers must send 25 cents extra, to prepay
American postage. Bills of all specie-payingbanks taken
**t car.
Hereafter, the terms of Advertising m the DISPATCH
Wfflbe as follows t
WALKS ABOUT TOWN 30 cent* per line.
Under the heading of “ Walks About Town” and “Bus
iness World” the same prices will be charged for each in
sertion. For Regular Advertisements and “Special
Notices,” two-thirds of the above prices will be charged
fcr the second insertion. Regular advertisements will be
taKen by the Quarter at the rate of one dollar Aline.
Special Notices by the quarter will be charged at the rat®
of one dollar and twenty-five cents per line. Cuts and
ianey display will be charged extra.
gflUg Mid
(Notice.—For want of space, many questions received
remain unanswered for some time. Each query, if legit
imate, will in its turn receive proper attention. We must
request our correspondents to write plainly and state
their wishes concisely, if they would receive concise an
swers. Many notes that are received are so nearly illegi
ble that they find their way at once to the waste-basket.]
Knickerbocker.— lt is said that
Verzazzano discovered the island whereon now stauds
the city of New York, in the year 1524. Hudson visited it
in 1609; and the Dutch sent vessels in 1610, to open a
trade with the natives. In 1613, Captain Argal, Gov
ernor of Virginia, attacked the Dutch and subjected the
colony to English rule. In 1614, the Dutch authority
was restored by Governor Elkens, and tffiis was main
tained until 1664, when the English once mors came into
power. In 1673, a Dutch squadron, under Benckos and
Evertsen, regained possession of the city and colony,
which they retained until 1674, when the treaty of West
minster restored New Netherlands to the English. The
latter thereafter retained possession of the colony up to
the time of the Revolution.
ill. J.— “ Please inform me how
King William crossed the‘Boyne'Water,’ at the battle
of the Boyne.” King William, at the head of his cav
alry, crossed at the lower of tho three fords of the Boyne,
while the Dutch guards, the Enniskillen Infantry, and
two regiments of French Huguenots were endeavoring
to effect a passage opposite Oldbridge. The Dutch suc
ceeded in dislodging their opponents; the French were
broken and driven back by a charge of horse led by Col.
Parker, while a squadron of the Danish horse was driven
back across the river by Col. Hamilton’s dragoons. De
spite all these adverse circumstances, King William
won a decisive victory, and James soon after fled to
Undecided.— This correspondent in
forms us that he loves a young lady who has two sisters
that have not behaved themselves in a manner accord
ing with either the Mosaic or the common law. He be
lieves “ her” to be “pure and true;” yet fears that “ the
family poison” may work its ill effects in her, as it has in
her sisters We cannot advise in a matter like this,
inasmuch as we believe the person must deeply inter
ested to be the one most competent to judge. We have
very little faith in the maxim that “blood will tell;” we
would much prefer to trust to actions. If the young lady
in question is “pure, honest, upright, and true,” as you
say she is; and if, moreover, you lovoher, marry her,
even if she is first cousin to Beelzebub himself.
Lillie.— We certainly have no
“prejudice against women;” and are by no means a
“ crusty old bachelor,” as you rather plainly insinuate.
On the contrary, we confess to a decided liking, as we
openly avow our respect, for the “fair sex.” We simply
ridicule their follies as we do those of men. We have no
“fault to find with tears;” it is as natural to cry as
laugh, and many a pretty eye has looked the brighter for
the tear that was in it. We do not, however, especially
admire a lone, lorn, maundering, miserable woman,
that, like a long, dreary, wet afternoon, never clears up.
Is Miss Lillie satisfied; or shall we try to explain more
Linguist,— The word “ nightmare”
is derived from Mara, who, in Runic theology, was a
spirit or spectre of the night that seized men in their
sleep, and suddenly deprived them of speech and mo
tion. A “Bogie, or Boghy,” comes from the name of
the fiercest and most formidable of Gothic heroes. The
mere mention of his name was sufficient to spread ter
ror among his enemies. The word, which is mnoh more
frequently used in England than in this country, is now
nearly synonymous with “ bugbear,” and is chiefly em
ployed by nurses for the purpose of frightening naughty
Admirer.—We think you are mis
taken in attributing to Andrew Johnson the first use of
the phrase about punishing traitors and making treason
odious. Mr. Robeson, the new Secretary of the Navy,
used the words in an address before the Union League
Club of Philadelphia many months before Johnson stole
and repeated them with such effect. Both Robeson and
Johnson, however, are open to the charge of plagiarism,
for the sentiment and even the words are as old as Thu
cydides, if not Herodotus.
St. Domingo.— Toussaint L’Over
ture died upon the 27th of April, 1803, in a French prison
upon the island. He was the leader of the blacks of St.
Domingo, and possessed almost unbounded influence
over them. A man of remarkable talent—even genius—
a scholar, and a statesman, he refuted in his own person
and by his own actions, all the stale, chop-logic of the
enemies of his race. Treachery caused his death; but
the principles he advocated, and for which he died, are
still living, and will prove immortal.
Jennie T7.—You are, in the main,
correct. The memory is generally much “ more reten
tive of joys than of sorrows.” Perhaps this is because
the mind loves to linger around and upon the pleasant
oases in the desert of life, striving to forget the long,
weary marches, the suffering and the sin.
“ Aye I we forget the thorny ways
We trod, and only keep in view
The misty, lotus-eating days.”
it seems a wise provision of Providence that memory
should endear the past, while hope gilds the future.
P. M.— The New York Post-office
was, in August, 1753, established in the building “next
the residence of Mr. Alexander Golden, opposite to the
Bowling Green, in the Broad-way, where the Rev. Mr.
Pemberton lately lived.” At least, the chroniclers of
Qhe day thus state. When letters were not called for
before 10 P. M., they were deliver# d the next day by
the “ Penny Post.” It was strictly and everywhere an
nounced, “In the future no credit will be given for let
11. S. Briggs.—“ Will you tell me
the majority that Hoffman had over Griswold—also,
Seymour over Grant—in the last State election ?” The
official figures were as follows: Hoffman, 439,301; Gris
wold, 411,355—Hoffman’s majority, 27,946. Seymour elec
tors, 429,857; Grant electors, 419,893—Seymour’s majority,
9,964. Your remaining questions wq will answer at our
earliest convenience.
Printer.— Caxton completed the
printing of his History of England on the sth of June,
1480. Thereupon he made the foillowing announcement:
The Chronicles of England, &c. Esprinted by me Wil
liam Caxton. In thabbey of Westmynstre by London,
Ac, the V day of Juyn the yere of th’incarnacion of our
lord god m. ccc. luxx, Ac.
Death Watch.— The noise to which
you refer is produced by a small beetle of the timber
boring species, Anobium. In the Spring time, these insects
commence their ticking as a call to each other. They
are perfectly harmless, and the superstition which makes
pf them “prophets of ill” is as silly as it is erroneous.
V. O. O,— l. Address tho Second
Auditor’s Bureau, Washington, D. C. We believe Mr.
E. B. French has charge of this special department. 2.
Hire a competent mason to do the work for you, if you
are not able or wiliing to do it yourself. The only mate
rials needed are brick and mortar.
Jackson.— Waybread is simply a
name given to the herb plantain which is common
enough everywhere Plantago major Wort is derived
from the Saxon wyrt, Ffench rert, Latin viridis. The
word is now seldom used except in compounds, as thor
ouga wort, liverwort, etc.
American. — The information you
require can most easily and correctly be obtained by
calling upon or addressing Gen. Patrick Jones, the Post
master of this city.
Church.— There were present at the
first Council of Nice 318 bishops. The session opened
•June 19tb. A, D, 325. ftfid CQutinued uotil Awjet 25th.
Forgetfulness.— l. “ Can you tell
me where Commodore Barry was born ?” He was a na
tive of Ireland, but the exact place of his birth has es
caped our memory. 2.—Your second question has been
sufficiently answered by the occurrences of July 12.
C. L.—“ Who rank first and second
in point of wealth in the United States?” We believe
that Mr. A. T. Stewart and Mr. William R- Astor hold
respectively the positions you mention.
Under the old Draconian criminal code, which gov
erned our British ancestors a century or so ago, the
“ way of tho transgressor was hard.” It was before
the era of “Prisoners* Friends,” and “Reformatory
Institutions,” and “ Moral Suasion Anti-Punishment
Societies,” which have since taken the mass of ruf
fians and blackguards under their protection, in or
der to convert them into “ estimable members of so
ciety. In the time of Jonathan Wilds, Blueskins and
Jack Sheppards, rogues were “worked off” in short
order, without “ benefit of clergy.” To hang a thief,
it was only necessary to prove that he had stolen
enough to pay for a halter, price one shilling. Con
sequently, as might have been expected, there was a
good deal of business for Mr. Jack Ketch in those
days; and it was not an unfrequent accomplishment
in a smart judge to sentence a dozen or twenty crim
inals to be hanged before the hour arrived for his
worship to go to sit down to roast beef and plum pud
ding. , It was a vindictive old time, and perhaps the
indiscriminate attempt to cure social disorder by a
rope-knot was rather a failure than otherwise; but
when one looks about upon mixed society, reads po
lice reports, and attends primary elections, one is
inclined to wish for a little less sympathy for mur
derers nowadays, and somewhat more pity for their
A few weeks since, we showed, by convict statis
tics, that one sentenced assassin escapes for every one
that is hanged, after conviction, in New York city.
As for the murderers who go unconvicted, or who,
after killing their man, woman, or child, are brought
in guilty of manslaughter, insanity, somnambulism,
etc., we fancy the computation thereof would fright
en people. Let it suffice a weak-nerved citizen to
know that he is liable, in a walk down Broadway, at
any time, to be brushed against by homicides of all
varieties, and if he should take a “walk around”
with some posted policeman, he might be Introduced
to numbers of worthy citizens who stand ready to
become homicides for a “consideration” at any time.
We do not intend any reflection on our Metropoli
tan Police, when we remark that crimes against per
son and property are much more common now than
they were before we boasted any organized police
system, and when rogues and ruffians were cudgeled
off-hand when caught in the act, without appeal to
official interference. The truth is patent that pro
fessional criminals in New York are not so much neg
lected by the police as they are protected by the
courts. Once in a while, under the pressure of sen
sational journalism, or a spasm of public morality,
we find our juries convicting, and our judges de
nouncing, with great discretion and dignity.
One or more poor devils may be then booked for
the severest penalties of the law. “ Public opinion”
demands examples. Justice puts on her darkest
frown, and sometimes Her black cap; and. tne conse
quence is, that some insignificant wretch is magni
fied into a great malefactor, and made a scapegoat
for the sins of all his tribe. Occasionally, also, a
case like that of Real, the murderer of Smedick,
comes up, where the affair takes a political shape,
and it becomes the policy of the judicial “ Ring” to
show the “Sheriff” that they are more powerful
than he is. The sacrifice of the prisoner is ordered,
and the sentence is held in terrorem over trouble
some politicians for several weeks, until they “ give
in,” and “justice” is satisfied.. But the case of
“ Real” is only one of many. Our whole court ma
chinery is subsidiary to party discipline, and the
administration of justice is a game of “ battledore
and shuttlecock” between rival factions.
That New York city harbors a multitude of un
hung ruffians, and is manufacturing multitudes
more, is a proposition which nobody will dispute ;
and she is no worse in this particular than might be
expected under the circumstances. So long as help
ing hands are extended to incarnate roguery, while
incarnate poverty is trampled under foot, just so
long will roguery lift up its head defiantly. So long
as soft-hearted and soft-headed philosophers chatter
against the condign punishment of criminals, and
appeal to a spurious humanity, to protect drunkards,
and convert ruffians, while they consign paupers to
the “tender mercies” of almshouse overseers; so
long as the public are invoked by plausible philan
throphy to compassionate thieves and kick beggars,
subsidize ruffians to vote, and denounce poor labor
ers for seeking higher wages, we fancy that crime
will have its premium in the market.
While Bill Sykes is wanted at a primary election,
and his “rights” are protected by State Constitu
tion and laws, we doubt if bank safes will be any
safer, or quiet citizens less exposed to slung-shots.
Mr. William Sikes, Mr. Paul Clifford, Mr. Fagin, are
all “ citizens,” and their privileges must be respect
ed. Let no zealous policeman dare to lay hands on
Mr. Sykes, unless with a warrant in his hands, on
pain of expulsion from the force on demand of a
civil magistrate. Let no robbed or abused citizen
presume to malign the character of Mr. Sykes, on
suspicion that he (Mr. S.) committed a burglary or
garroted a lady last evening. Mr. Sykes can prove
an alibi; Mr. Sykes is a deputy sheriff ; Mr. Sykes is
brother-in-law to Aiderman A. or Judge B. Mr.
Sykes keeps that popular Ward Headquarters, the
Hole-in-my-Pocket, or that corner warehouse, the
Green Grocery, or that Broadway establishment, The
Red-and-Black, or that Prince Street Hotel, the Al
lan-a-Dale. Mr. Sykes, in effect, is a “citizen,” and
his ballot balances that of Peter Cooper or Rev. Mr.
■What is to be done about Mr. William Sykes ? He
is a “representative man.” He controls votes. It
is true, he harbors thieves, and conceals their plun
der. It is true, he violates the law constantly by
keeping gambling tables. It is true, he defies the
statute by selling policies and lottery tickets. It is
true, he is a partner in bagnios, and draws his per
centage from thejguilty gains of vile women. It is
true, he is an untiring public enemy ; a foe to pub
lic security; a plotter of social mischief; asocial
plague; a loathsome cancer on the body politic. It
is true, Mr. William Sykes is known to the police and
to the courts to be all that we have described, in his
“ representative” character. It is quite true, that
he will break into some citizen’s house to-night; that
he will murder some citizen to-morrow. But what
is to be done about it all ?
In the late “ Constitutional Convention” apropos?
tion was made as follows:
“ The Legislature may provide that, in the regis
tration of voters, no person shall be registered who
shall be notrioously, professionally, and persistently
engaged in the violation of criminal laws and in
sharing the profits of felonious practices and pur
The proposition to incorporate this clause in the
section on suffrage was not agreed to; but what
would be its effect if enacted into law and enforced ?
Would honest citizens be the worse for it? Would
not our judiciary, our society, our ballot-box be more
secure, if “ professional law-breakers” were deprived
of the power to influence, terrorize, and control the
authorities of our metropolis ? Of course, the propo
sition was opposed by politicians; by the very men
who supported Greeley’s amendment to disfranchise
every citizen who had received alms within thirty
days before any election. It was considered to be all
right to deprive a poor man of his vote, but a crim
inal—a professional law-breaker— his “ rights” were
not to be meddled with. “I do not believe that the
right of suffrage belongs to persons of any class
whose vote will not contribute to the intelligence and
capacity which go to make up the popular verdict,”
said Mr. Greeley, in his argument that paupers
should not be permitted to vote. But neither he nor
other ventured to vote for a clause dis-
franchising criminals whose daily life was in defiance
of the law, and who assisted to make criminals and
paupers by the thousand. And yet, who shall say,
that our political and moral standard would not be
elevated, if the law rigidly excluded all habitual
criminals from voting to elect the makers and ad
ministrators ef criminal law ?
Who shall maintain that the power to decide
against a good law or a good legislator ought justly
to rest with some thief, or gang of thieves, who may
possess the balance of power in an election district ?
And yet this is the exact state of the case in New
York. A gang of thieves often decides a primary
election and the nomination of a judge or legislator.
A gang of thieves may hold the balance of votes in a
ward or district, and sell that balance to the candi
date who promises them protection. Herein lies the
secret of unconvicted and unpunished felons, of the
impunity with which violence and crime are com"
mitted, of the robberies of banks and dwellings with
out discovery of the robbers, of the “rings” and
“ machines” of ward and city politics. The “ crim
inal class,” the “professional law-breakers,” are at
the heart of our politics, as well as at the throats of
our citizens. Hence it is that the paupers may be
threatened with disfranchisement, but no one is bold
enough to deprive Bill Sykes of his vote. And yet
every criminal vote is a stab at the community.
This city lies on the south side of a spacious bay,
land locked, connected with which is a narrow chan
nel, called Le Goulet, the neck, or gullet. Here is
sufficient depth of water and ample room for the
largest fleet, and its sheltered situation and exten
sion by two main inlets into the interior, render it
one of the finest harbors in the world. Frowning
batteries and a rock-built citadel, to say nothing of
the admirable fortifications along the Goulet, show
the care which has been taken to protect Irom hostile
invasion tho principal naval arsenal and dock yard
of France. As you enter the Goulet, the village ot
Roscannel appears on the mainland, covered by lines
of fortifications, with Queben, protecting the south
pass. It has been justly termed the Gioraltar of
France, as the Goulet is the Dardanelles. In 1594,
the Spaniards established themselves here, and con
structed a fortress at the east point, which stid bears
the name of Spanish Point. After you pass Le Gou
let, two islands are seen, named respectively L’ill
Roude, and L’tlle Des Morts. The latter is well
wooded, partially cultivated, and contains quarries
of stone, very hard and durable, but at the same
time easily cut, with which most of the streets of
Brest are paved. Brest seems to have been little
more than an obscure fishing station during the
period of the Roman occupation. Scanty mention is
made of it, but it is difficult to conceive that its ad
vantages were overlooked by that warlike people. It
grew up into national importance under the foster
ing care of Cardinal Richelieu, who saw its import
ance as a naval station, and magazines and fortifica
tions sprang up under his auspices. In 1631, he
directed ten men-of-war and six frigates to be con
structed here. Other monuments attest the saga
cious statesmanship of the half-soldier, half-priest
who so long ruled France, and whose genius shed a
lustre over an overwise unmitigated despotism. He
found the country, as Bulwer has made him say in
the fine tragedy which bears his name,
**— rent asunder,
The rich men despots and the poor banditti:
Sloth in the mart, and schism in the temple:
Brawls festering to rebellion, and weak laws.”
He left it in a more powerful and flourishing state
than when Louis XIII died. He created the navy,
the Botanical Garden at Paris, the Citadel, at Havre,
the Palais Royal, and other works might be cited,
footprints as yet uneffiwed, that he left upon the age
in which be lived, and of which he was unquestion
ably one of the greatest minds. During the fury of
the French Revolution his tomb was broken into by
the mob, and a portion of the skull hacked from the
body. On the 15th of December, 1866, 224 years af
ter his interment, the remains of the great cardinal
were taken to the Sorbonne and buried with appro
priate ceremonies. A very large number of persons
were present, and among them M. Baroche, Minister
of Justice; the Bishops of Sura, la Rochelle, Chalons,
Nancy, Bayeux, and Parium. The Duke de Riche
lieu attended on behalf of the family. The French
Academy was represented by MM. Cousin, Berryer,
Lebrun, Nisard and Camille Doucet, and the Univer
sity by MM. Ravaisson, Girrud, Milne-Edwards, Pel
lat and Dutrey. The Minister of Public Instruction
was received at the door of the church by the Arch
bishop of Paris and the Vice Rector of the Univer
sity. In presenting the oak box which contains the
remains of the Cardinal, the Minister said:
“Monseigneur—l deposit in your hands what re
mains to us of a great man, whose name is always
present, because he pacified and aggrandized France,
honored letters, and constructed this building, which
has become the sanctuary of the most elevated stud
ies. The University and the Academy accomplish a
filial duty in uniting their homage at this tomb which
will be no more violated.”
The Archbishop replied by thanking the Minister
for restoring these relics to the Sorbonne; and point
ing out that the ceremony might be considered in
some sort as a reparation for the faults of a past gen
eration, he expressed the hope that France might
never again witness similar scenes of disorder. Af
ter the celebration of a mass by the Bishop of Sura,
the relics were inhumed, and the Abbe Perrai|p, Pro
fessor of the Faculty of Theology, pronounced an
eulogium on the great Cardinal.
In the wars between France and England Brest has
occupied a prominent place, having been captured
by the naval forces of the. latter power upon several
occasions. They, however, met with a bloody re
pulse in the reign of William of Orange, in conse
quence of the treachery of the Duke of Marlborough,
who, having obtained information of the destination
of the fleet then fitting out at Portsmouth, sent the
intelligence to the exiled James 11., by whom it was
at once communicated to the French Government.
Measures of defense were immediately taken, under
the direction of one of the greatest engineers of his
age—one whose ashes have been thought worthy of
being placed by the side of those of Napoleon. Bat
teries, masked and unmasked, were planted in every
available spot, the peasantry of Brittany were aroused,
troops were concentrated, and rafts carrying mortars
were anchored in the harbor. Unsuspicious of the
trap which had been laid for them, the English fleet
soon after appeared with its regiments of infantry
and marines, about to disembark under the com
mand of Talmash. Yet the customary precaution of
ascertaining the state of the coast was not neglected,
and the reconnoitering party, faithfully executing
the duty with which it had been charged, reported
that even the small part of the defenses that could
be observed seemed very formidable. Notwithstand
ing this information, it was determined to land the
troops under the protection of a fire from the ships,
the commander laboring under the delusion that he
had taken the enemy by surprise. He was soon un
deceived. A terrible fire mowed down his troops
faster than they could get on shore. He had himself
scarcely sprung on dry ground, when he received a
wound in the thigh from a cannon ball, and was car
ried back to his skiff. His men re-embarked in con
fusion. Ships and boats made haste to get out of the
bay, but did not succeed till 400 seamen and 700 sol
diers had fallen. During many days the waves con
tinued to throw up pierced and shattered corpses on
the beach of Brittany. The battery from which Tal
mash received his wound is called to this day “ The
Englishman’s Death.” It is on the east point al
ready mentioned.
It was at Brest, the Guide Books tell us, that Mary,
Queen of Scots,
“ The soft Medusa of the fated line,”
disembarked on the 14th of August, 1548, and pro
ceeded to St Germain, where she was betrothed to
the Dauphin, at the age of five. It was reserved for
the research of Mrs. Strickland to discover that it
was not at Brest that Mary landed, but at the little
haven of Roscoff, some twenty miles distant—at that
day a nest of pirates and smugglers. She had been
tempest-tossed many weary days upon the coast, and
upon landing, she went to the nearest church and
returned thanks for her deliverance alike from ene
mies and the elements. Every reader of history is
familiar with the sad picture of her departure from
France, in the same month, after thirteen years had
el&psed—the happiest her eventful life. With a
nirtr fntrtpniiinit.
presentiment of the sorrows that awaited her, which
was confirmed by a sad accident, involving the loss
of many lives in her very presence, she stood like a
statue upon the deck of the vessel, gazing with fixed
and tearful eyes upon the receding coast. “ I am un
like the Carthaginian Dido,” she exclaimed, “for she
looked perpetually on the sea when 2Eneas departed,
while all my regards are for the land.” The song
written by Mary, in which she expresses the feelings
which oppressed her on this occasion, has been often
translated and in many languages. It is character
ized by a simple and natural elegance of thought
which no translation can wholly destroy. One of the
best is the following :
Adieu, thou pleasant land of France !
Thou dearest of all lands to me 1
Where life was like a joyful dance—
The joyful dance of infancy.
Farewell, my childhood’s laughing wiles!
Farewell, the joys of youth’s bright day!
The bark that takes me from thy smiles
Bears but my meaner part away.
The best is thine; my changeless heart
Is given, beloved France, to thee;
And let it sometimes, though we part,
Remind thee, with a sigh, of me.
Brest is divided into two parts by the Penfield
river. A bridge has recently been erected over this
stream, and is named Napolean 111., who was present
and laid the foundation stone. It is of iron, and
built upon stone piers, some ninety feet in hight.
The view from this bridge is one of the finest in the
city, You can take in at one glance the Naval School,
the Marine Barracks, the Observatory, and the ani
mated scene in the river below you. That part of
the city which lies beyond this bridge is called Re
couvrance, and consists principally of a population of
seafaring men, mechanics, and laborers. There is
here a Scotch Presbyterian Church, under the pas
toral charge of the Rev. Mr. Chanbel, which is well
At the commencement of the present century, a
benevolent and wealthy citizen of New York—Capt.
Robert Richard Randall—carried into execution a
resolution which he had for some time cherished of
providing an asylum for maintaining and supporting
aged, decrepid, and worn-out sailors. The generosi
ty, or (to call it by a harsher name) improvidence of
sailors, as a class, is proverbial. The chance and
change of their wandering life, so different from that
of landsmen, render it more difficult for them either
to exercise the forethought or to practice the. econo
my by which, in the case of many other classes, some
provision is made in the season of exertion against
the period when age or infirmity brings with it inca
pacity for labor.
Separated by their very pursuit, and often at long
intervals, from the great body of the community,
they are grown up children in respect to a knowl
edge of the world. They are little influenced by the
motives which ordinarily impel to frugality, and are
at all times disposed to view the future through the
delusive medium of their own imagination. Ex
perience with them comes too late, and resembles
the stern-lights of their vessels, which only cast their
illumination over the track which has been passed.
The fact that they are such important agents in
the growth and prosperity of every commercial coun
try did not suffice, when such calamities have over
taken them, to shield them from the ills of unre
garded poverty, and their neglected condition, amid
the wealth which they created, was long a reproach
to the boasted civilization of our age and country.
No one was more deeply impressed with these con
siderations than Captain Randall. He justly deemed
that in no way could the wealth with which Provi
dence had blessed him be more efficiently employed
than in guarding against the evils to which so many
of the class to which he had himself belonged were
almost inevitably exposed. Accordingly, in 1801,
when weak in body but sound in mind, he made a
will which has rescued his private history from ob
scurity, and erected to his name a monument more
enduring than those which record achievements on
field and flood. His was not that bastard philan
thropy which seeks the reputation of a public bene
factor at the just claims of his friends and kindred,
and, while sacrificing to benevolence, outrages the
feelings which sanctify its altar.
He remembered in this last testament his poor
dependents. He bequeathed to his nephews and
nieces, annuities, or yearly sums of forty-one pounds
sterling, and the additional sum of one thousand
pounds each upon their marriage, or arrival at twen
ty-one years of age. The remainder of his estate,
real and personal, was given to found a perpetual
asylum for aged and infirm seamen, to be called
“The Sailors’ Snug Harbor.” The property be
queathed for this purpose consisted of four lots in
the First Ward, and between twenty-one and twenty
two acres of land, in the Fifteenth Ward of the city
of New York, beside $723 in three per cent, stocks;
$6,430, in six per cent, stocks, and fifty shares of
Mannattan stock, A description of this land, upon
which Captain Randall resided at the time of his
death, and which constituted the principal basis of
his munificent charity, may not be uninteresting to
the reader, who, if a resident of New York, may thus
trace the wonderful changes which this locality has
undergone within the memory of the present gener
That part of the city, which is now known as Astor
Place, was originally called Sandy Hill—a range of
sandhills extending in a semi-circle from Green
wich village to the Bowery. At the base of this
range of hills ran a branch of a stream, known in
that day by the Indian name “Minetta Water.”
The source of this stream or brook, was in the lo
cality now called the Fifth avenue, between Twenty
first and Twenty-second streets. At this day the
water often makes its appearance in the cellars of
the houses in this vicinity, and thoso adjoining the
Fifth Avenue Hotel in Twenty-third street. The
stream flowing from thi. point, ran through the
Fifth avenue toward the East as far as Eighteenth
street, where it diverged and took a westerly course,
crossing Washington Square, and continued to the
North River.
In the part of the city described stood the edifice
called the “Minto,” erected by Mr. Elliott, Collector
and Receiver-General of the Province of New York and
acting Governor until the evacuation of the British.
In 1766, he purchased thirteen acres of land fronting
the Bowery road, which was extended to twenty-one
acres by subsequent purchases of land between the
road called Sandy Hill road and the Minetta. A
ground plan of this house, showing its relative posi
tion to the streets which were afterward cut through
the property, forms one of the illustrations of the
Corporation Manual. This fine estate became the
property of Frederick Charles Bruno Preliuetz, who,
in 1790, sold it to Captain Randall for £5,000.
Those of our readers who are acquainted with the
real estate of the city of New York, can form an esti
mate of the value of the Sailors’ Snug Harbor prop
perty, from the mere mention of its extent and loca
tion. It consists, (exclusive of the personal estate
already mentioned) of 253 lots, 25 by 100 feet, and
some of them of greater dimensions. These lots are
contained within an area bounded on the east by the
Bowery, west by Fifth avenue, north by Tenth
street, and South by Waverley Place. Upon this
property are many edifices which are an admitted
ornament to the city—Brevoort House, Stewart’s
new store, Mercer Street Church, and the fine range
of private dwellings fronting Washington Square.
When these lots were about to be leased it was re
ported that several butchers contemplated availing
themselves of the occasion to obtain a number for
the purpose of erecting extensive slaughter-houses.
This intention was frustrated by the foresight of
the late Stephen Allen, one of the most public
spirited men of his time, who had a provision in
serted in the leases, prohibiting the erection of any
nuisance upon any part of the property; an alley
only was allowed for stables in the rear of the lots
fronting on Washington Square. The lots on the
side streets were valued at SI,OOO each, and leased
for a ground rent of SSO per annum. After some
leases had*been effected, the valuation was doubled
upon the adjoining lots which was again doubled
upon the expiration o/ the first leases. The income
from these leases in 1806 was $4,243, and in 1848 It
had increased so much, that in that year it was
$37,000. Of the future income of this charity it is
difficult to form any conjecture. One thing is con
solatory to know, that it must be greatly augmented.
The leases of the lots upon Broadway will soon have
expired, and these now pay in a great majority of
cases, only sums ranging between $250 to SSOO.
The Asylum is |pleasantly located on the shore of
Staten Island, in the town of Castleton, immediately
below New Brighton, and has in addition to its
various valuable buildings, a property in land of 158
acres, which is divided in the following manner:
Fourteeen acres are enclosed by a substantial iron
fence, sixty-nine acres are under cultivation, and the
remaining seventy-five acres of a lorest,
bounded North by the Kill Von Kull, South, East,
and W est, by lands owned chiefly by those wno re
side upon them, and who, for the most part are en
gaged in business in the City of New York.
The principal buildings beside those of the Asylum
proper, are separate, and commodious brick edifices,
the residences of the governor, chaplain and physi
cian. There are also, built of the same material,
a chapel, a hospital large enough for the comfortable
accomodation of seventy-five patients. A bakery
and a wash house with steam boiler and machinery.
The conveniences of the location are increased by
a dock on the premises, at which the Staten Island
ferry-boats land and receive passengers and freight
several times daily. The grounds of the Asylum
have been embellished by several hundred forest
and ornamental trees, which have been tastefully
planted. Among these are seen sugar maples and
English elms, evergreens, and quite a number of
cedars, which were transplanted from the woods that
make a part of the property. Here, in this truly
“ Snug Harbor,” the old tars amuse themselves in
“spinning yarns,” playing dominoes, fishing and
sailing, or, when desiring to add to their comforts,
in making baskets, mats, miniature ships, canes, and
skewers for butchers. They row number four hun
dred, but some of them are on long leave of absence.
Beside a few who are employed as waiters, nurses,
and cooks, there are seventeen other persons, not
belonging to the Institution, who render various
services, making in all forty-seven who receive pay,
and whose wages amount to some S6OO monthly.
The average cost per diem for maintaining each in
mate has not for tho last twenty years exceeded
thirty-five cents. To produce this average, all out
lays of every description, with the single exception
of the amount paid for insuring the buildings from
fire, are included; nor are the inmates of the Insti
tution deprived of any comfort proper to their con
dition, or to which they were accustomed before en
tering it. How favorably does this management, to
which much unostentatious unpaid service is given,
contrast with that of Greenwich Hospital, with its
larger endowments derived from taxes, bequests,
grants and confiscations, and to which even the death
of Kidd the pirate added £6,472. An official investi
gation in 1859, showed that it cost as much to admin
ister the institution as to support the men for whom
the institution was designed.
The Sailors’ Snug Harbor has been fortunate in
the selection of its executive officers. Among these,
the late Captain Augustus De Peyster deserves some
thing more than a passing notice. He was a descend
ant of the well-known family of that name, so promi
nently connected with the early history of the city of
New York, and honorably distinguished in its annals
as aidermen, burgomasters, mayors, merchants, and
captains. He was appointed governor of the Sailors’
Snug Harbor in 1845, succeeding Captain Whetten,
who was a brother-in-law of John Jacob Astor, and
the commander of one of his vessels. A fine portrait
of Captain Whetten, together with a bust of Captain
Randall, adorn the hall of the principal building of
the Sailors’ Snug Harbor—appropriate tributes of
respect to the founder and first governor of the insti
tution. Captain De Peyster’s life was an eventful
one. In early boyhood, he went to sea in a vessel
called the Favorite, of 195 tuns, which was engaged
in the West India trade. This was in 1798. Upon
one occasion she was attacked by a French privateer,
but the officers and crew of the Favorite made a
spirited resistance, and ultimately succeeded in beat
ing off the enemy. Afterward, in 1805, he was em
ployed by Astor, and sailed in one of his vessels
engaged in the China trade, the ship Beaver, of 427
tuns. This vessel was at that time considered so
large a one, that people flocked from all quarters to
see her. He went before the mast in this vessel, but
finally succeeded to the command of her. Upon her
last voyage she was commanded by Commodore
Chauncey, who was created a post-captain in June of
that year (1806). The first voyage of Captain De
Peyster was made in another of Astor’s vessels, the
Resort. She sailed from New York for Calcutta, and
was eight months in going, and twelve in returning.
This voyage formed quite a contrast to that of Cap
tain Cowman, another of Mr. Astor’s captains, and
whom he called the “King of Captains.” He sailed
in the brig Fox, with a valuable cargo, $600,000 in
specie, to Calcutta, and he returned in seven months
and fourteen days from the time he left New York.
Captain De Peyster commanded the brig Seneca,
which, in 1815, carried to the Cape of Good Hope and
to China the news of the proclamation of peace be
tween the United States and Great Britain. After
leaving Astor’s employ, he went into that of Francis
Depau, a son-in-law of the Count De Grasse, but long
known as an extensive commission and shipping
merchant, and the first who established a line of
packets between this country and France. One of
the finest vessels in that line, the De Rhain, was
commanded by Captain De Peyster.
To his judicious management and practical sugges
tions, during a period of twenty years, the Sailors’
Snug Harbor is indebted for much of its prosperity
and the popularity it so deservedly enjoys among all
classes. By the regulations and by-laws established
by the Board of TruaiAAs, he was made the executive
officer of the several departments of the institution.
He purchased all supplies, kept accounts of all ex
penses, and submitted a written report every three
months, containing abstracts of the monthly reports
made to him by the chaplain and resident physician,
the number of inmates, increase or decrease, con
duct, sanitary condition, average cost of support,
and ail other matters which he might deem proper
to notice.
The hardship and exposures to which sailors are
subjected, might, at the first view, be supposed to
exercise an unfavorable influence upon the duration
of life among this class of the community. The
same conjecture, also, is often hazarded in respect to
the laboring classes as contrasted with the affluent,
founded upon similar considerations. Doctor Winne,
in his valuable report on the “ Vital Statistics of the
U. 8.,” which was made to the President and Trus
tees of the Mutual Life Insurance Companies of the
city of New York, has given some facts, which are
well adapted to remove many of the erroneous opin
ions which prevail on this subject. He refers par
ticularly to the results disclosed by the investiga
tions of Mr. Nelson, the Actuary of the Medical In
valid and General Life Office at London, and declares
that these results, so far from showing that the cir
cumstances in which the laborious class are placed
limit their duration of life, absolutely exhibit a pro
longation of it beyond what the most favorable life
tables selected from the best classes of society have
ventured to go, and excited much surprise among
those who were by no means ignoran t on this sub
ject. In a word, these statistics do not show a re
duction in the average life between seamen and the
laboring and mechanical classes, as contrasted with
that of those “ gentlemen who live at home at ease.”
Sir John Sinclair, in his celebrated “ Code of Health
and Longevity,” says that “ peasants, laborers and
other hard-working people, more especially those
whose occupations require them to be much in the
open air, maybe considered as following a regulated
system of moderation, and hence they enjoy that
higher degree of health which prevails among them
and their families.” Hence we need not be surprised
at the extreme old age often found among the in
mates of institutions like the Sailors’ Snug Harbor.
Many visitors of the Asylum remember that old
sailor, Thomas Johnson, who died only two years
ago, being then more than one hundred Jyears old.
He was, ol course, one of the “ lions” of the institu
tion, and one seemed transported to another age
and generation bb he recounted some of the stirrind
events 7'n his long career. This gallant old tar was
the only survivor of the daring crew of the Bon
Homme Richard, and was one of the two men who
assisted Paul Jones to lash his vessel to the British
frigate Serapis. Another inmate of the Harbor, who,
when we last saw him, was over ninety years old,
was John Adams, one of the crew and the last sur
vivor of the ill-fated ship Albion, wrecked upon the
Irish coast in the winter of 1821.
MMffill MBS.
What is Bone With Them in the Cities of the
Old World—What Should be Done Here.
At a recent meeting of the Board of Police Com
missioners, a resolution was passed, directing, in
effect, that certain members of the force be retired
from duty, on account of infirmity, resulting from
either old age, disease, or wounds received in the
service. This has been done. Among those retired
by this order is David Roach, for very many years
one of the most efficient detectives connected with
the Police Central Office. Four or five years ago he
was stricken with paralysis, the results of ex
posure in the performance of his duty, and has since
that time been confined to his house, utterly help
less. He has been allowed half pay, not enough to
support his family. By an act of the Legislature,
passed last Winter, the Commissioners, at [their
option can allow those retired an annual pension,
ranging from $l5O to S3OO. Another of those retired
is patrolman John H. Arnoux, lately attached to the
Tombs Police Court Squad. Something over four
years ago, while a patrolman in the Eighteenth
Ward, he was called in to arrest a drunken brute who
was abusing his family. He attempted to do so,
when the man turned on him, and dealt him a blow
on the head with a hatchet, causing a wound that, at
the time, was thought to be mortal. Officer Arnoux
recovered, however, but has not been enabled since
that time to do active duty, his head paining him to
such an extent whenever he takes active exercise, or
is exposed to the sun, as to be almost unendurable.
Some of tne others are men who have been twenty
years or more on the force, in fact, have given the
best part ot their lives to the service of the public,
and it seems especially hard to turn them adrift on
the world now, that they have become too old or in
firm to earn a livelihood. It would seem that some
comparatively sinecure position could be found for
them, either in the Sanitary Department, the Board
of‘Health, or elsewhere. There are many young
men holding sinecure positions in the various courts,
who should be made to give way to these older men.
It certainly seems wrong that no provision has yet
been made for these superannuated men, beside the
amount allowed by the Legislature. Three hundred
dollars per annum is not sufficient to support a sin
gle man, much less a family. It will not even pro
vide them with the necessaries of life. There is cer
tainly not much incentive for a man to perform his
duty, if he is to be turned adrift when old age has
incapacitated him from performing active duty. And
if it is hard in his case, hpw much more so in that of
a man who has been incapacitated from service on
account of wounds received at the hands of some one
of the ruffian class who are rapidly increasing, year
by year, under our peculiar regime? Is it not offer
ing a premium on laziness and incompetency,
Messrs. Police Commissioners ? And if this system
is not amended, will it not have the effect of break
ing down the discipline of the force ? Will your men
freely risk their lives, and cheerfully encounter the
danger of being permanently disabled, knowing that
no adequate provision will be made for themselves
or families should such a calamity overtake them ?
These are questions well worth pondering, and they
possess an interest, too, for all the more decent por
tion ot the populace in the Metropolitan District.
For the past ten years, in fact, ever since the police
was taken out of the hands of Mayor Wood, by whom
it had been run as a political machine alone, the dis
cipline and efficiency of the force has been steadily
on the increase. As strong a partisan as was Thomas
C. Acton, the late President of the Board, he never
allowed politics to interfere with the discipline of
the force, and for a direliction of duty, a Republican
was dismissed as soon as a Democrat. His own near
relative, for an infraction of the rules governing the
force, was dismissed. If President Acton was stern
and severe, he was equally impartial, and held the
scales of justice at an even balance.
Of late there seems to be a change, and apparently
not for the better. Slowly, but by no means imper
ceptibly, the Police Department is becoming, to a
certain extent a political machine.
Not long since there was an extensive change of
commandants of precincts, nearly twenty captains
in this city and Brooklyn being transferred from the
command of one precinct to another. Why this was
done has never been satisfactorily explained, but it
is understood that in many instances it was at the
request of certain political magnates, who thought
that If they had certain Democratic captains in cer
tain precincts the primaries and “ticket” could be
worked to better advantage. Exactly what relation
a captain of police should bear to a political meeting,
where he or his subordinates should attend simply
to enforce order, aside from this duty, the unsophis
ticated public will find it difficult to comprehend,
but the fact is that ever since the Board of Police
Commissioners has been half Democratic, the leaders
of that party have insisted on their full share of the
offices and promotions, and have growled loudly at
the presence of certain Republican captains in Dem
ocratic precincts—the Eighth and Fourteenth Wards,
for example.
All these things have tended to demoralize the po
lice, and should it be continued for any length of
time, will destroy its usefulness. The new appoint
ees, in many cases, are men who wonia «tood
no chance of an appointment on the force five or
even three years ago.
In no European city is politics allowed to interfere
with the discipline of the police force. A man ob
tains an appointment on the London force, mayhap,
and steadily wins his way upward. He must serve
a certain time in one grade before he can obtain pro
motion. Sobriety and a strict observance of the
rules that govern the force (and they are much more
abitrary and severe than those of the Metropolitan
Police) are insisted upon. The police of those cities
although perhaps not so fine-looking a body of men
as our Metropolitan Police, are better disciplined.
A man who joins the police in those older countries
expects to remain on the force. He does not join as
a mere makeshift until he can do better, as is too
often the case here, and, as a consequence, he pays
more attention to the orders of his superior officers,
and is seldom found derelict in his duty. Twenty
years’ continuous service in some cities, and twenty
five in others, entitles a member to retire on halt the
pay of the rank he occupied at tho time of his resig
nation, and the same rule applies to men permanent
ly disabled while in the performance of their duty.
There, it will be seen, there is every inducement to
perform one’s duty properly and well, and it is done
with a cheerful and wiliing spirit. To be dismissed
from the force there is to lose the prospective ease
and comfort of one’s old age. Here, nearly one-third
of the force seem to think it their especially duty to
“beat” the roundsman or sergeant, by evading, as
much as possible, the performance of their duty, and
by constantly transgressing the rules laid down by
the Commissioners for the government of the force.
Adopt the rule of the English and Continental
police, without reference to the half-pay system, and
drop politics (but that, we suppose, is too much to
ask for while our city government is m its present
hands), and a decided change for the better would
soon be observable.
The expense would not be very great, either. There
are, in the Metropolitan District, about 2,600 police
men of all grades. It is safe to assert that not more
than one-third of the whole number serve ten years,
and scarcely one jn thirty twenty-five consecutive
years. A liberal estimate would not make more than
150, at any one time, enjoying their half-pay pension,
while the better spirit it would infuse into the force
would more than compensate for the slight addi
tional outlay.
wm any steps be taken to effect this mch-needed
change 1
By Pierre J. M. W«
Farewell, false heart, farewell 1
No longer doth there dwell
Within thy fickle soul my face;
My image lives not in thee;
For me no further place
Hast thou, but enmity
Lives there to tell
Where once was love, pure lovfi
How sweet was that short dream!
How heavenly did it seem 1
And how I fanned the flame!
Oh, how I cherished every look and worfl
That, mocking, seemed to say,
“No breath of love has stirred
My heart till now, and now your name
To me means only love, pure love.”
And now that heartless tone!
Oh, how my heart doth moan!
I gaze into thy great brown eyes,
Once glistening with love’s tears,
And only feel surprise
That in thy few bright years,
A heart which is but stone,
Should learn so well to mimic love, pure
Alas I farewell, false heart! »
Well hast thou played thy part—
Yet must I love thee still;
Still will thine image bright
Trample o’er sense and will—
Shine in my soul’s dark night;
And though fore’er we part,
Thy name to me shall be love, pure lOVfy
Alone in the World.
At half-past two punctually Rosa Doree licpfi
her appoomtment at the Waterloo Railway Sta-J
tion. Lord Warborongh was also there, bu 6
failed in finding her for some timo, for tho girf.
had hidden herself away in a dark corner of th®
waiting-room, where she could command a VICIX
of the platform. [
“ Won’t you come out and walk up and dOWD,
Rosa ?” asked the young nobleman. <
“ No, thank you ; people do stare so. I dd|
not know what it is, but there is always a cer®
tain air about us professionals which is sure tCk
attract attention.”
“ It is not every day that such a pretty and;
charmingly-dressed girl is to be seen, Rosa, s®
Sou must pardon the public if they do take a,
ttle notice.”
“Ah 1 flatterer,” she said, playfully J
“ you ”
She suddenly checked herself, as her eye fell
on two persons walking down the platform.
They had their backs to herself and Lord War
borough ; but the girl instantly recognized
both. Going to the window, she watched them
enter a first-class carriage.
“Come,” she said; “let us go to the train.”
Her companion politely offered his arm, and
they walked on to the platform together.
“There is more room at the front of the
train,” he said, as she stopped opposite the
first carriage to which they came.
“ No, thank you, I prefer this. Ido not like
going close to that great, snorting, roaring en
“ Very well, pretty one, as you please,” said
Warborough, with a laugh; and he handed
her in.
This carriage was the second one behind
that in which she had seen Ethel and Digby;
Rosa Doree was silent on the journey to Rich
mond ; and when they arrived there, she was
very slow to alight—nor would she do so until
she saw a certain plaid shawl disappear up th®
steps. As they walked up the street together*
sho could see the said plaid shawl about a hun
dred yards ahead. Arrived opposite to tha
lane leading to the Rose Cottage, the lady wit®
the plaid shawl turned down it; and Rosa, wit®
a sigh of relief, knew that she was on the right
“ Now, mind, sir,” she said, playfully, to heij.
companion, “ we must have a very nice room*
I am very particular, and insist on one com
manding a good prospect.”
“My dear child, we will inspect every roonx
in the house until we find one to suit,” sail?
Warborough, laughing.
“Ah I that is right. I shall like you, 1;
think; you are so kind and docile—like a littl®
Warborough, who was in good spirits, laugher?
at being likened to a little lamb ; and they
passed on together into tho hotel.
“ But what about Diana Vernon, Rosa ? Will
she be here ? You know you promised to showt
to me this fair-haired prodigy, about whom
you talk so much.”
“Do not be impatient, sir ; all in good time*
If you are so eager to see her, I shall be jeal
ous, and think better of it.”
Warborough said no more at this time, butt
ordered what he called a nice little dinner for;
Salmon, cutlets, clear soup, and still hock*
This was followed by roast ducklings, soma
delicate little made dishes, with champagne j
and Rosa’s hightened color and sparkling eye®
soon told of the effect of tho wine.
Dinner over, lights were brought, and
placed on the table. Lord Warborough took;
walnuts and port wine ; while Rosa Dore®
amused herself with prunes and bon-bons.
“Do go and see about the trains, there is a
dear English milord,” eaid Rosa, coaxingly*
“ We must mind and not miss the last.”
“My dear girl, there is no danger,” he re-'
plied, looking at liis watch ; “it is not yet seven
o’clock, and I am sure you need not be back in
town before half-past nine.”
“Still I want to know how the trains run*
If you won’t go, I shall be very angry with,
“ Rather than incur such a terrible penalty*
I would walk barefoot to London,” he replied*
gallantly. “ So, fair tyrant, I obey.”
Warborough had now quite forgotten all
about Diana Vernon. The French girl’s bright;
eyes and merry conversation had quite driven;
her promise from his mind.
Instead of having to descend the stairs inf
order to make the necessary inquiries, he metf
a waiter on the landing, and at ouce received!
the information he required. So he quickly*
returned to the sitting-room where he had left
To his suprise, it was untenanted.
He looked around and called Rosa; but n®
one answered. Then he bethought him of th®
window which opened on the balcony. Softly
opening this, ho stepped out, and thero dis
covered the young lady.
The windows of several other private rooms
opened out on this balcony, and, to his no lit
tle surprise and amusement, he saw Rosa wit®
her ear close to the window of the adjoining*
room, m the attitude of listening.
“Ah! you sly little puss 1” he said, laugh
ingly. “Your woman’s curiosity cannot b®
satisfied without learning what the people i®
the next room are talking about. Come, what;
is the subject of their conversation?”
“O! love, of course,” replied Rosa Dores.
“ People always talk love after dinner at Rich
mond. I suppose it’s the wine.”
“ And have you often been made love to aftci;
dinner, little beauty?” he said, leading hen
back into the room.
“Don’t ask impertinent questions, milor<%
Anglais," she replied, seating herself at th®
table, and filling her own and his glass.
“I will do nothing which you object to, Ros®
darling,” said the young nobleman, who no?®
became very tender in his manner.
“ And you will do everything I tell you ?”
“ Assuredly; for the time lam your most de«
voted slave.” . '
“Then I command you to go out into tha
town, seek a chemist’s shop, and purchase md
some for I declare my head ia be*.
ey° Rosa,” he said, in the same playful
style: “and your humble slave ie duly ted
proud to made himself useful.”
Again he was gone a shorter time than shq
expected; and on his return she was again out
on the balcony. This time he opened the win*
4QW yer? evftly and stepped forth, She

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