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ry jTj'o i I (Tilt I, ik JL.T Ii fj AMP AL/JI/ILz ~ - - ?Wll ■ wJ- PUBLISHED BY A. J. WILLIAMSON’S SONS. VOL. XL.“NO. 25. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Class Matter. THE NEW YORK DISPATCH, PUBLISHED AT NO. 11 FRANKFORT STREET. The NEW YORK DISPATCH is a journal of light, agree able and sparkling Literature and News. One page is de voted to Masonic Matters, and careful attention is given to Music and the Drama. The Dispatch is sold by all News Agents of the city and suburbs, at FIVE CENTS A COPY. TERMS FOR MAIL SUBSCRIBERS: SINGLE SUBSCRIPTIONS $2 50 a year TWO SUBSCRIBERS 400 “ FIVE SUBSCRIBERS 900 “ ALL MAIL SUBSCRIPTIONS MUST BE PAID IN AD VANCE. POSTAGE PAID EVERYWHERE BY THE DISPATCH OFFICE. Address NEW YORK DISPATCH, Post Office Box No. 1770. playslndllayers. “IT’S ENGLISH-YOU KNOW.” The Great Actor—The Anglo-Maniac Craze —Abbey’s Experiment—The New Idol—A Common Mind Investigating Com mittee—“ The Evidence All In”— Beecher—Brewster and Childs- Wendell Holmes has his Say —A Load ot Rubbish—Sher idan Shook’s Subscrip tion—The Delmonico Dinner—The Fool Killer Absent. u . - BY John oarboy. »• It’s English—it’s English, you know.” Right you are, Prince of Carrara, .otherwise Mr. Henry Adonis Dixey. If it wasn’t English it wouldn’t bo dined, wined and toadied. ♦ Mr. Henry Irving is English—thoroughly English, you know. There are no American flies on him. You will find no democratic dust upon his profes sional collar. He is a great actor; he must be, for—he’s English —you know*. His coming to our stage has filled a great want. All over this broad land the constantly increasing host of Anglo-Maniacs—the worshippers of everything and anybody having the flavor of cockney about them, wanted a new idol—a some thing to glorify—even if it were only a little tin joss on wheels. Before the arrival of the head and front of the Lyceum company upon these shores, there had for many seasons been a dearth of the English article, and Anglophobia was compelled to waste its adula tory froth and lavish its assininity upon such pass ing theatrical trifles as Rignold, Tearle, Warde and Gerald Ay re. There were other similar exponents of the utterly VACUOUS IN DRAMATIC ART who came, were seen, and for a little while were the photographed idols of these worshippers. But “ over there”—"in London, you know,” they were small potatoes—in the theatric hill—and had no special value. They were of the five or ten ♦*pun” a week growth. What was wanted here was something more ad vanced in notoriety; something that had achieved the distinction of being a craze—a thing of patron age in its own land. There had been a surfeit of exiled dukes, penni. loss princes, cadaverous counts and "busted” bar ons, and their presence and unpaid bills brought Borrow to the proprietors of a long list of hotels, from the Brevoort House down to the catch-on-if you-can hostelries of the sea-side watering places. The dearth was awful. All these worshipers with out an idol. It was as if the great empire of Japan had been deprived of its boss joss. One day one of its high priests, in the way of speculative management—Mr. Henry E. Abbey— took pity upon the Anglophobists. He had tried them with Edwin Booth. No sooner did he set this idol up in the temple than he discovered his mis take. EDWIN BOOTH’S FATHER was an Englishman, but that wouldn’t condone the ffense of the son in being born an American. Beside, his idiom smacked too much of English, "as she is spoke” no where else than upon the American stage. Booth was all very well—for an American. He was an artist—the foremost Shake spearian actor upon the stage; but "But, my doah boy, cawn’t you sae there’s noth ing English about him, you know ?” Abbey thereupon dropped Booth, and cask about him for an article in the line of stars which would fill the bill, and capture the entire Anglophobiac bakery. " He sailed the salt seas over,” and Henry Irving dawned upon him. " Habet,” or perhaps " Eu reka,” he cried. " I have found the Idol." Here is the proper caper. And so, at a great outlay of capital, and with a grin of satisfaction, he secured the prize, and brought it to the American stage. The Anglo-mauiacs were delirious with joy when the preliminary announcements assured them that at last they could have King Stork—even though they had to pay roundly for the gratification of their desires. They were as hungry and thirsty after their long deprivation, as were the Democrats at the close of their twenty-five years’ official fast. Well, Mr. Henry Irving and his Lyceum company came, and they were at once placed in position. He was mounted upon the central pedestal, and the company were properly grouped around him in the Star tabernacle. Garlands and gush were the offerings which toadyism and sycophancy gave him as their pre liminary welcome. The series of services began, ran their course, and last evening closed. They began with " The Bells ” and ended with "The Merchant of Venice”—and the usual benediction in the guise of A FAREWELL SPEECH, which was applauded to the echo—for the fool killer was occupied elsewhere in the land, and therefore the audience could exhibit its folly with out danger. And now that the series of services is over; now that the idol is about to relegate himself to the tem ple from whence he was originally brought to us by Abbey, it may not be out of place for the common American mind, which is no worshiper of stage gods in the temple, to resolve itself into a committee of one, and discover, if it can, what blessings and benefits have accrued to the profession and stage of this country as the result of Mr. Irving's work. For it was work—of its kind. Now, then, Mind, summon your witnesses and let the investigation proceed. And for the moment the Anglomaniacs will kindly take a back seat and quietly amuse themselves by gazing upon the happy face of another Henry whom they do not worship— Henry Dixey. In the course of the investigation it is submitted, in evidence, that " Mr. Irving deserves the admira tion he has excited artistically as an actor and the respect he has won as a reformer of the stage.” That "the public has derived pleasure and instruction, not only from his personal per formances as the greatest of English actors— 'English, you know’—but from his system of man agement,which bps resulted in the most satisfactory dramatic representations in every detail, that have •ever been witnessed in this country.” The witnesses who give this evidence are George William Curtis, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Benjamin H. Brewster, Henry Ward Beecher, George W. Childs, Noah Davis, Abraham R. Lawrence and a hundred other experts in dramatic art and theatric management. They also incidentally offer, in cor roboration of their entire belief ;a the truth of their evidence, the statement that they have tendered a Delmonico dinner to the Idol. "In what manner has Mr. Irving reformed, im proved or exalted the American stage?” quoth Chairman Mind. " He has attended Plymouth Church and listened to Me,” answers Henry Ward Beecher. " What do you know of the art of acting ?” *' I’m a Mugwump, and I’ve edited Harper's Weekly," replies Curtis. " Upon what do you base your judgment that Mr. Irving is a great actor ?” "He’s English, you know,” answereth Childs. "Wherein has Mr. Irving glorified the American stage?” " He once read my ♦ Autocrat of the Breakfast Table/ and said that if England bad no Thackeray it would be proud to claim a Holmes as its satirist,” replies Oliver W. H. " And why do you think he is a great Shakspearcan actor ?” " Because he wears his ruffles proudly as I do mine,” answers Brewster. And thus in their several methods all the wit nesses answer the queries of chairman Mind. And on one point they all agree. In fact their unanimity is as touching—as their faith in the abso lute truthfulfiesi? of a circus advertisement is child like and confiding. The point is that " Mr. Irving must be a very great actor and a master of dramatic art” because he has never denied it. He is too conscientious, too noble and unpretentious not to proclaim his inno cence of such a charge. THE INVESTIGATING COMMITTEE Common Mind, in making further search for evi dence as to the status of this idol, and as to whether he has covered the entire ground of greatness in stage management, the production of playsj and the art of acting in all its branches and left no room for anybody else to make any improvement what ever, discovered several facts which should not go unrecorded. For instance—here comes io the stand a stage carpenter—prejudiced as an American always is in avor of his own country’s works gray in the ser vice, and with a face as wrinkled and grimed as an old sky border. Quoth he: " Since I was a boy I have been working in the theatre, and for the past thirty years I have been em ployed on the New York stage—many years of the time with the Wallacks—James, the father, and Lester, the son. I’ve had a hack, too, at the old Olympic, in the time of Laura Keene, and at Booth’s Theatre, in its first season. And I helped this week to get down and pack up Mr. Irving’s scenic stuff for shipping. In all my experience I never saw a shabbier, more worn-out lot of drops, set pieces and props when they were first set up here, nor a worse-looking lot when they were taken down. Why, he had a parcel of old vases which you must have seen on the stage. Well, he had ’em packed carefully in new boxes. No manager’d give ten cents for the entire collection. He thought we hadn’t any scene painters here, nor any stage man agers and actors in stock, any more than might be found in a howling wilderness. No, sir; if the En glish like that kind of cheap and colorless scenery and stage setting, they’re welcome to it. "If any American manager or actor had shown such stage settings and battered props he'd been laughed at by the audience and lashed into king dom come by the whole tribe of critics. But it’s English, you know. "As it was, his most effective scenes, and some of those the critics went into ecstacies over as being the perfection of art, were made up of old flats and drops which have been in use on this stage for years. Catch any of the witics praising Mr. Wal lack, Daly, Palmer or Shook & Collier for putting on such faked-up settings and calling them new.” Comes one of the official staff of the Boston Thea tre, who states that on Mr. Irving’s recent perform ances there of " Much Ado About Nothing,” the church and altar scene was made up entirely from the stock sets of the stage. The audience—as in duty bound—gave the setting a tremendous reception,and the critics next day unanimously proclaimed that " Never before on any stage in this country ” had there bean seen " such harmony of color, artistic fit ness, and magnificence of effect.” One of them said: "Every manager in the country owes a debt of grat itude to Mr. Irving for the lesson which this exam ple of his matchless stage adornments has given them.” And there wasn’t one of the critics that HAD NOT SEEN THIS SAME SET time and time again before Mr. Irving came to America, and never gave it a line of remark. But it is Irving, you know. And the man who can so deftly humbug the Americans at three dol lars a head must certainly be a very great actor and deserving of a Delmonico dinner. A sort of theatri cal Cagliostro, as it were. Another bit of evidence was brought to the Mind during the sittings of the committee. One day last week—notably on Wednesday after noon—a coupe was drawn up to the curb in frout of the Union Square Theatre. Out of this vehicle there came an individual of the " swell ” variety, but as sisted in his locomotion by a crutch. With the usual dot and carry one movement he made his way to the box-office and inquired of Treasurer Lynch lor Mr. Sheridan Shook, who was at that moment stand ing in the lobby quietly smoking. "There he is,” said Lynch. The individual ap proached Shook. "You are Mr. Shook? Ah, happy to see you. I wish to get your name to this subscription list,” and he unfolded a portentous roll of paper upon which were many names. "Head the list, sir.” " What is it all about ?” "It’s all stated there, sir—you’ll find it a ” "Tell me what its for, and what you want. I’ve no time to read it, can’t you tell me ” " Well, eft—certainly—you see we were getting up a subscription to raise tbe necessary funds to make a handsome and appropriate present to Mr. Henry Irving as a souvenir of the esteem and venera tion ” "No 1” thundered Sheridan Shook, " I’m not sub scribing to any such scheme.” "But let me explain.” “Explain nothing. Good day.” The swell re turned to his coupe. There wasn’t the faintest gleam of a dollar for Irving in that manager’s eye. The common Mind—which is not English—you know, after due deliberation has made up its re port. To this effect: That Mr. Irving despite the tremendous influence of his acting and bis wonderful teachings as a manager, will leave the American stage in about the same condition in which he found it; a condition very much better in almost every respect than that of the English stage. That he has taught us nothing new, nor imparted any instruction of the slightest value in regard to the old. That he has shown us that Anglophobia as a disease, has a very strong hold in this country, and more especially in Boston and New York. £nd that so long as the fool killer persists in absenting himself from these cities, just so long will pretentious empirics and charlatans of every profession from abroad be able to reap rich harvests of dollars and dinners, adulation and sycophantic worship. And that the line which began with Kossuth will not end with Irving. For Europe hath many more of the same sort ready to follow. Quoth the Delmonico dinner magnates: Let us all abase ourselves on bended knees at the feet of this light and glory of the English stage, com pared with whose genius that of such insignificant strolling players as Garrick, Kemble, Kean, Macrea dy, and Booth is as the glimmer of a farthing dip to the glare of a calcium light, and implore him not to leave us. Let ns stuff him with Delmonico dinners and Lo tos Club lunches; let us cram his bank account with millions—do anything that is or is not English, you know, even to proving ourselves a nation of cads, lickspittles, and cringing toadies, and to utterly ig noring all and everything which our own artists and managers have done to advance dramatic art and glorify our stage—anything rather than that he should leave us. After Irving—what ? NEW YORK. SUNDAY. APRIL 5, 1885. CLEVKII DETECTIVE WORK. The Gang of Counterfeiters that Alarmed London. JET WILSON AND HIS ATTRACTIVE SISTER The Old Templemore Mansion at Bayswater. A Reminiscence of the Great Exhibi tion of 1851. " Here, I see, arc my notes of the great counter feiting case in London, during the year 1851,” the detective said. "I was in it flora first to last, and can run you off the story in no time.” He lighted a cigar, laid his notebook on the table, and began: Fifty-one was the great exhibition year, and Lon don was filled with foreigners. It was a fine oppor tunity for the counterfeiters, and a gang of the most expert rogues that ever lived took advantage of it. Both silver and gold coin was operated, and the gang put fine work into it. Each coin was finished in the highest style of art, and was fully half the value of the genuine. Well, the city was full of it, and complaints were coming in thick and fast. It was estimated that many thousand pounds of the stuff must be in cir. culation. I visited over a hundred and twenty places where the base coin had been passed, and in the last one only was any suspicion entertained as to the parties who had passed it. In this case—that of a furniture dealer in the Tottenham Court Road— a small book-rest had been bought for two or three shillings, and a spurious sovereign given in pay ment. The deaier distinctly renumbered that the purchaser was a middle-aged lady, accompanied Ly a gentleman much older, with snow-white hair and sicleVLiskers. The lady was not particularlyre membered, but the dealer thought she was slim and under the middle bight. I visited every plac? over again, and in sixteen the parties distinctly remembered, on being ques tioned, that somewhere about the time of the pass ing of the counterfeit money, a lady and gentleman answering the description already given had been customers. A CLEVER TRICK. This, you will admit, was a very slight clew, but it was a clew, nevertheless, and I tried to make the best of it. In the meantime, the authorities found that hundreds of spurious coin were being passed every day, and it behooved them to be lively. One day a Frenchman, elegantly dressed, called at a jeweler’s in the Strand and asked to look at a la dy’s gold watch. He wanted it for his daughter, on her birthday, and, having selected one, said he would like his wife to see it before purchasing, but, as she was ill with a severe cold, she could not come out. The price was sixty pounds, and the Frenchman offered to deposit the price and take the watch for the inspection of his wife, with the un derstanding that, if it did not suit, the money was to be returned. This was assented to, and the Frenchman deposited sixty pounds in gold and took the watch. Next morning he returned, accompanied by his daughter, a very graceful girl, "You must let me speak, papa,” she said, and, addressing the jeweler, she added: " I found out, sir, that my father was buying me a watch, and questioned him. This one,” she said, bringing the watch from a small bag, " does not please me.” Then she examined some twenty or thirty differ ent watches, none of which suited. Finally the jeweler took the sixty pounds in gold from his safe and returned it to the Frenchman, who deposited it in the end of an old-fashioned purse. As they were about to quit the place, the daugh ter spoke to the father, and, after a brief conversa tion, they returned to the counter, the Frenchman laughing and saying: " There, you see, sir, she wants the watch after all.” The watch was produced, the jeweler was pleased and polite, the purchase was handed to the young lady, and sixty sovereigns—but not the same pre viously deposited—wore returned to the jeweler. That same afternoon he discovered that they were counterfeits without an exception. BAITING THE HOOK. “ Was the watch new ?” I asked the jeweler. "Not exactly,” was the reply; "but it was the next thing to it, and they knew it, and were aware that it was worth every penny of sixty pounds.” " Have you the number and the maker ?” I askod. "Yes, I have,” he answered, and producing a book he read off; "No. 11,056—Montandon.” 1 took this down and departed. Next morning I had this advertisement in all the newspapers: " £IOO Reward.—Lost, in the Exhibition Build ing, on Tuesday of last week, a lady’s gold watch. No. 11,066—Montandon, maker. On its return to Messrs. Wheeler & Jones, Regent street, the above reward will be paid.” That day and the next, and the next, I was lying in wait in the rear of Messrs. Wheeler & Jones’s premises, where I could see all that was going on and receive a signal from the head of the flrm when the watch was returned. But the bait was not taken, and I had my labor for my pains. And all the time the evil was growing worse and worse. One day a score of tradesmen would be victimized in one district, and tbe next day as many more in another. Probably in the majority of cases tbe spurious money was passed into circulation and went from hand to hand, un til it fell into the possession of some unfortu nate honest man or woman, who discovered its worthlessness. You may be sure we had all the po_ lice on the lookout for the old whitehaired gentle, man and his middle-aged wife, and for the French man and his daughter—for they were evidently not identical. The gang, however, was thoroughly up to every branch of tbe trade and evidently changed its methods so as to baffle pursuit. JET WILSON. At this time Jet Wilson, as he was called, came out of prison where he had just served a five years term for forgery. He was an experienced counter feiter and had spent altogether twelve years in con finement for various crimes in his line. On his first trial he appeared in court in deep mourning, with jet studs and wrist buttons and a black bordered handkerchief, under the pretense that his being suspected of crime had sent his wife to an early grave; but it didn’t work with the judge or jury. Ever since then he had been known as Jet Wilson. Whom should I meet on Regent street one after noon but Jet. He was fashionably dressed and look ed well. At first he protended not to recognize me, but he soon threw off his reserve and said smiling ly: " I’m just out and haven’t had a chance to turn my hand to anything yet.” " What a rare detective you’d make,” I said. " What makes you think so ?” he asked with a se rious air. “Because you are so well acquainted with those skilled in the higher grades ofcrime,” I answered. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t pay,” he said; "now here I am without an opening, and I must do something by which I can raise money at once.” “I’ll give you just such a job, Jet,” I said, and then I explained to him the counterfeiting game that was being so extensively played and said I thought there was a chance for him to do some de tective work that would bring him in a nice little sum. We went down toward the river together, turned into an ice saloon at the old Hungerford Market and had a talk. I showed him the counter feit money and he seemed delighted with it, declar ing it to be the best piece of work of the kind he had ever seen. I saw his eyes twinkle as I told how thousands of pounds of it had been successfully passed. After an hour’s talk we parted, agreeing to meet at the same place next morning. USING JET. Did I honestly intend to employ him as a detect ive? Don’t be in a hurry—all in good time. Next day we met. I went over the thing once more, tell ing him all about it, and describing the old man , art gahpnhnf. and the xniddle-aged lady, and the Frenchman and his daughter. He said he had thought over the thing, but, as he had been out of the way for five years, he had lost the track of all his old associates, and new men had come forward, of whom ho knew nothing. He didn’t see how he could be of any service, but he would think it over for a day or two longer, and drop me a line. I handed him a couple of sovereigns, and we parted on the Strand. As he turned down toward the City, one of my most able assistants followed him. Jet went first to a tavern near St. Paul's Church yard, and dined, and then went toward High Hol born. There he entered a tavern near Chancery lane, where he met three men. My assistant tele graphed to me, and I sent up an expert officer, who knew every thief and rogue in London. Disguised so as to baffle detection, he went into the tavern, and soon satisfied himself that Jet’s companions were new men. We found that night where Jet hung out, and kept a close watch on him. I be came firmly convinced of one thing—Jet was doing his level best to find out who was running the big counterfeit game. That was just what I wanted. I knew that as soon as he knew there was such a good job on hand he would be dying to have a chance to join in. JET AND HIS "SISTER.” Four days passed, and I got a note from Jet, say ing that he was no good as a detective, and could find out nothing about tbe gang of counterfeiters. His own impression was that they must be foreign ers. The very next day I met Jet and a stylish girl on Regent street. For a moment he was taken back, but ho was equal to the occasion, and said : "Why, Roberts”—giving me tlio cuo to assuming that name—"how are you? Let me introduce my sister —Miss Miller”—giving me the cue as to what name I was to use in addressing him. We chatted pleasantly for some time and I invited them into a Restaurant to have a sweet snack. The invitation was accepted, and we sat for some time sipping wine and eating. They sat on one side tbe table and I sat on the other. "Miss Miller” wore a good many jewels and was fond of showing them. “Miller” said at length that they must be going, and arose. His "sister” drew out a lovely gold watch from a little side-pocket in her dress. I had but a glimpse of it, but that was enough to satisfy me that it was the watch purchased with counter feit money at the jeweler’s on the Strand. I re tained my composure and we passed into the street. We walked on together as far as Piccadilly and parted. But I wasn’t going to let the quarry escape me. I soon turned and followed them and saw them call a cab. I jumped into a hansom and directed the driver to follow their cab with caution. He did, sometimes getting a little in advance and then falling into the rear, but always keeping them in sight. Thus I tracked them to a retired street in Bayswater, known, I think, as Cherry Tree Place. They got out of the cab and turned into the "place.” My hansom passed the street, turned and stopped. I sprang out and was at the corner in time to see Jet and tbe girl enter a house. I located it by a lamp post and counted tbe doors from the corner. It was the eleventh bouse on the right-hand side. THE OLD TEMPLEMORE MANSION. I went into a green grocer’s near by and inquired whether there were any rooms to let furnished on Cherry Tree Place. He didn’t know. An old lady and gentleman had taken a house there about two months before, he said, and accommodated lodgers; but he believed they were full. Was the house largo ? Yes, a double house, formerly the residence of Mr. Templemore, who owned the big brick and tile works that used to stand at the north end of the place. Were there many lodgejs ? He should judge so, as he had seen as many as eight or nine gentle men going into the house and several ladies. Did they deal with him ? No. That quieted my mind, for after I had begun tbe conversation with the green grocer, it struck me that he might tell the in mates that a stranger of my build and appearance had been asking questions and that that might empty the nest in quick time. When I found the family patronized a rival, I was at ease. I went round to the next street, and was fortunate enough to hire a room in the rear of a house, directly overlooking the rear of the old Tem plemore mansion. All was quiet, and no one but a decent looking maid was visible in the yard. About midnight, however, I could see slithers of light com ing through tbe shuttered windows of the top story. Then smoke began to rise from the chimney. I went home and disguised myself and, returning, watched the house with two other officers within beckoning distance. SURVEILLANCE. Shortly after nine o’clock the very three men—as I knew from their description—whom my assistant had seen in the tavern in High Holborn, quitted the house and went toward the city. I put an offi cer on their track. Soon afterward the old white haired gentleman and the middle-aged lady came from the dwelling, and, taking a cab, drove right away to Islington. Another officer followed them. I waited an hour or two longer, and as apparently all the inmates had left that intended to go forth that day, I returned to headquarters. There I as certained that the three men took a bus to Trafal gar Square, and then went to a restaurant near Westminster Bridge, where they breakfasted sump tuously. As soon as they had quitted the place, the officer asked the clerk to show him the money the men had tendered. Each had tendered a sovereign and got separate change. The sovereigns were the now familiar counterfeits. The officer marked them, and took possession of them, telling the pro prietor his object. The old lady and gentleman, I found, had quitted the cab at High street, Isling ton, and had visited three places where they got rid of as many sovereigns of the counterfeit brand. THE RAID. There was no doubt that we were now on the skirts of the gang, and it was decided to oper ate that night after the smoke had begun to rise from tbe chimney, and the counterfeiting mill was in operation. Wo placed two officers on the toof of the adjoining house—on one side tbe Temple more house was unattached—and six officers in the rear with instructions to obey a signal. They were all hidden, some to see everything and yet remain unseen. Six more were to approach in front at the right time. We did it so neatly that we were all concealed in the capacious entrance in a trice. I placed a jack-wrench against the jamb of the door, and had the screw pried so that a twist of the lever would force the door. At a signal irom me, an offi cer stationed three doors away fired a revolver. As I saw the flash I turned the lever, and the crash of the door and the report of the pistol wcro simul taneous. Wo were iu the house in a crack—that is—four of us, for two and the officer who fired the pistol were to watch that none escaped. With a stealthy step we ascended the stairs, and in half a minute we were in the rear room oq t£e thirs flpQi where seven men were at work coining counterfeit mdney. A whistle from me was followed by a crash, and the six men from the rear wero beside me in as many seconds. We nabbed every man. The old gentle man and his wife and Jet and his “ sister” wire captured fast asleep on the second floor. Tbe Frenchman, it turned out, had gone with a gang of his own countrymen to Birmingham, Leeds, Liverpool, and the larger cities to shove the queer. A GREAT HAUL. It was undoubtedly to be one of the greatest hauls ever made in London, and that is saying a good deal. Just as I anticipated, Jet started to hunt up the gang as soon as he heard of their existence and knew r all about them in twenty-four hours. He and his " sister ’’ soon hitched horses; but as it was soon pretty clear that he had nothing to do with the counterfeiting job, and I was indebted to him for unearthing the gang, I advised the authorities to let up on him, and he was released. He is now a successful boat-builder at Wapping and the leading man in a prosperous mission there. We didn’t spare the others. The old man was found to be " Joe the Holy,” an impostor who for years practiced on the credulity of pious people all over England, by repre senting himself as a clergyman suffering from paraly sis. The old woman was his wife, and as expert a sho ver of the queer as ever lived. The girl, Jot’s "sister,” had already served two terms for thieving, her prac tice being to go to the houses of persons advertising for nursery maids or governesses, and then watch for an opportunity to steal all she could carry away. All the others captured, were supposed to be new hands, but there were at least five who had been engaged in the business who escaped, and they wero all experts. The Frenchman and his gang were captured in Liverpool. The result was that we removed from society for a good many years, half a score of atrocious criminals. A LOVER OF ART. The Ironical Talk of a Broker With a “ Game ” Eye. He Tells How Jay Gould’s Success With His Erie Gallery Made Him Envious of of Other People who had Good Col lections—How the Bostonians were Ogled Out of their Union Pa cific—A Library Ornament in the Shape of Ten Mill ion Dollars* Worth of Certificates—Again at His Tricks. •' Who takes care of Jay Gould’s picture gallery during his absence/’ inquired one of ft group of brokers gathered around the " ticker ’ in a down town office the other day. "You needn’t laugh so loud,” he continued when the guffaw excited by his remark had sub sided. " I don’t know that Mr. Gould does much to encourage art, by patronizing painters or any thing of that sort, but he’s a connoisseur all the same. He has done more to stimulate engraving and lithographing than any other five mon in the world, and his specialty is railroad chromos.” "Yes,” chimed in another of the group, " he and Fisk went into patnership for the production of Erie engravings and a prodigious success they made of it !00. Gould retired from the business tem porarily, after his partner’s death, but he re established himself very soon. There is no doubt that ho has since done much to advance the artistic quality of bonds and stock certificates, and to him is chiefly due tho credit of the immense stimulus given to their production during recent years. I ten yon t&at African engravers and lithographers owe him « A GREAT debt of gratitude. “Pity he is so fickle in his tastes though,” said a third broker with a " game” eye. " How often has he not assured us that the particular collection which he then held w’as beyond question the best in the world, and that he would never part with a single chromo from it. Then after he had con vinced the public of the high character of the de signs and the rare value of the works, and every body rushed to buy copies, his fickleness would lead him to sell his whole collection at top figures. He is evidently somewhat ashamed of this weakness though, for he always makes such sales secretly and conceals the fact that he has sold as long as possible.” "You remember his famous Erie gallery ?” sug gested the second speaker. " That was a magnifi cent collection. It took him over three years of in tense labor to get it together. The pictures were neglected very much as they are now; the public could see no merit in them, but he gathered them in all the same. Then what clever lectures he de livered upon them 1 What new beauties he discov ered from day to day 1 It is a great pity.that he consented to part with them. To be sure he ob tained several million dollars profit, but what is mere money to a man of his fine artistic taste ? I think he must have regretted dispersing that fine collection; it must have pained him greatly to see the sudden depreciation in value that followed the discovery that he had sold out. Beside, how bitter he became all at once in all matters "PERTAINING TO RAILWAY ART. "You remember how he devoted himself for some years to criticism, and how he depreciated the gal leries of other collectors.” "I could tell you a thing or two about his mam moth collection, representing scenes in connection with the Union Pacific Railroad,’’ said the gentle man with the " game ” eye. " Mr. Gould took then as he takes now, a special interest in those pictures. When he determined to make a collection of them he learned that the late Mr. Oakes Ames was, as a result of his connection with the Credit Mobilier, in possession of some very choice specimens. About that time Mr. Ames needed some money for his shovel business or some other enterprise of like character. The Jay Cooke trouble in 1873 still further embarrassed him. Mr. Gould seeing his op portunity, stepped in and helped to make it lively for Mr. Ames, and so secured his portion of the Union Pacific gallery, thus gaining a handsome nu cleus for his collection at a very low price. Then he set to work in earnest. That year found the Union Pacific under the practical management of Oliver Ames and his associates of Boston. Horace F. Clark, the President, had died, and Mr. John Duff, the Vice-President, was acting President. " One day in the Winter of 1873-74, Mr. Gould sat in the library of his house in Fifth avenue, and wrote a brief note to Mr. Ames asking him to come to this city. Mr. Ames was surprised at the invita tion, but his Yankee curiosity impelled him to start at once. At that time Mr. Ames was supposed to hold nearly or quite "ONE HALF "of the entire $30,000,000 of Union Pacific engrav ings. "You suppose, of course, that Mr. Gould said to his visitor, that having become possessed of a good deal of stock, he desired to be more fully represent ed in the next Board of Directors. But you ought to know by this time that that is not Mr. Gould’s way of doing things. On the contrary, he modestly informed Mr. Amos that he (Gould) expected to take a more prominent part in the management, and condescendingly said he desired that the Bos ton gentlemen should remain. " Mr. Ames was more astounded than was the ' blue blood ’ of New England when General Butler announced himself as a candidate for the Presiden cy. Nevertheless, when the election was held for directors of the Union Pacific, in March, 1874, Wall street saw at a glance that Jay Gould had dictated the Board. Was it surprised? Oh, no ! it simply stood up on its hind feet and howled. Tho Boston associates were very weary, but their financial standing was so great and so necessary to Mr. Gould’s ends, that be labored assiduously to gain their confidence. His innocent air and modest def erence to their views quite captivated them, and he soon afterward took formal possession. A promi nent gentleman, then in a representative position, called upon Gould to learn his plans. With unusual frankness the little man showed him numerous books containing information " ABOUT UNION PACIFIC,< gathered by all sorts of methods, and running through a series of years. Mr. Gould assured him that he had long been convinced it was just the sort of property to own and to spend one's wholo life in improving. He never, so he said, intended to part with a single share of his holdings in it. The list ener did not believe it all, but ho was visibly affect ed by these statements and the manner in which they were made. " Shortly after this Mr. Gould determined to let a few favored friends see his new private collecting of pictures. Meeting on 6 ol tlie Boston associates In to his house, The visitor accepted ths invitation. Mr. Gould showed him a mass of Union Pacjflp Qffgrayings bound into a ha.pdgQme volume. The pictures be tween the covers of that book had a nominal value of $10,000,000. There were others, ho said, which he kept down town as a matter of convenience, as he was changing them from time to time. As a matter of fact he did change them occasionally for double eagles or greenbacks. As he expected, however, the Boston friend went home and related the wonders he had seen on Gould’s parlor table, and many per sons were led to purchase the stock. After some years Mr. Gould, notwithstanding his great anxiety to retain this fine collection intact, was so pressed and importuned by Mr. Russell Sage, the late ex- Governor Morgan and others, that he at last con sented almost with " TEARS IN HIS EYES, " to part with a portion of it at high prices, but he vowed that nothing could induce him to sell the remainder. Meanwhile be had heard of another prize collection, known as the Kansas Pacific gallery. By means of kicks and smiles alternately delivered, Mr. Gould persuaded the owners of this to let him have the lot at alow price—just as he had persuaded Mr. Ames some years before. "The possession of this enabled him to acquire the Denver Pacific collection at a groat bargain. Having these hung in a good light ho astonished his friends by asserting that tho last two acquisi tions were of greater value than the examples of the Union Pacific school which they had bought from his former gallery. But his especial hobby just then was harmony and uniformity, particularly in color and titles, he said, and he agreed that if the Union Pacific Company would furnish him with artists’ proofs of their best engravings at face value he would exchange. As an inducement to the com. OFFICE, NO. 11 FRANKFORT ST. pany he asserted that, if they refused to exchange, he would denounce their collection as defective and proclaim his own as the real "Simon pure” article. Of course they assented to the bargain. "Haying thus obtained possession of a handsome collection of Union Pacific securities of the first class, bis admirable critiques upon their quality led to such a public demand forthem that ho had to de liver prints and lithographs instead of artists’ proofs, and thus the amount of Union Pacific chromos afloat was Increased from $36,000,000 to $60,000,000. After having distributed the entire col lection ho, about two years ago, asserted that the pictures were almost worthless and must inevitably decline to much lower figures. They did decline ■ and he bought a good many of them back, and now everybody expects that, before long, his peculiar fickleness will again get the better of him and he will be advising everybody to buy thorn at much higher prices than those now quoted.” OUR MILITIA. SIXTH ARTICLE. THE GALLANT SEVENTH. A Regiment which Gave GOO Officer* to its Country-—The Seventh’s Heroes and its Exploits — Riot Reminis cences — The Child of the Regiment. The origin of the Seventh Regiment must bo sought in the earliest militia system of America. Its only rival in the remoteness of its origin is the Eighth Regiment, whose promised history tho Dis patch is compelled to defer until next week. It is some years younger than the Eighth, but, unlike the latter, its existence has not been interrupted since its formation at the commencement of the present century. The Seventh was founded in 1806; the Eighth in 1797. The first, Second, thirJ and fourth companies of the present Seventh Regiment belonged, to the once famous Third Regiment of New York Artil lery. Only one battalion of the Third was artillery proper, the other being armed and equipped like infantry, and wearing the Continental uniform. The Third w’as formed in 1806. The regiment did duty during the war of 1812, by manning the local fortifications, its number having been changed to the Eleventh. In 1826 the regiment became di vided, the stronger portion taking number as the Twenty-seventh, and in 1847, when the passage of a new militia law made the renumbering of the regi ments necessary, it received its baptism as the Seventh, a figure which had never been applied to a militia regiment in New York before. THE MACREADY RIOTS, The first great public service performed by the Seventh Regiment, N. G. S. N. Y., was at the Mac cready riots, at the Astor Place Opera House. Fifty three members were disabled and removed from the field, and in return the regiment handled the mob so mercilessly that the rabble christened it " Old Graybacks,” as a contemptuous punishment for its alleged inhumanity. The gray uniform which se cured it this special title was introducod by Orderly Sergeant Asher Taylor, who first wore it out of doors. He also designed the regimental coat of arms and the National Guard standard. Previous to its formation as the Seventh, the reg iment had been out during the election and aboli tion riots of 1834, the stevedore riots of 1836, the flour riot of 1837, and tho Croton water riot, three years later. From its earliest history it has been famous for its discipline’and the manly characteris tics of its rank-and-file. The outbreak of the war found the Seventh ripe for service. The officers notified Governor Morgan f of their readiness to march on call, and on Wash ington's Birthday, 1861, he reviewed them from the balcony of their armory. When, on April 15th, the call for 75,000 men to defend the capital, came, the Seventh went into camp in its armory to await the summons. It came at 11 o’clock at night, and ou the 19th the regiment SET OUT FOR WASHINGTON. Wealthy citizens and the commercial associations bad subscribed liberally to equip the regiment for active service, aud its departure, with 945 men in the rank and file, was a popular ovation. The whole city turned out to bid it good-by, and Major Anderson, the hero of Fort Sumter, reviewed it from the balcony of the Metropolitan Hotel. The Seventh went into active service in Washing ton by working in the trenches at Arlington Hights. But it returned to New York at the end of its thirty days’ service, much to the disappointment of many of its admirers. The regiment wished to volunteer en masse, but Colonel Lefferts opposed the idea on the ground that he did not wish tho organization to be broken up. Six hundred and six of his officers and men testified their disapprobation of his luke warm patriotism by enlisting as volunteers in the army and navy, Three became major-generals; 19 brigadier-generals; 29 colonels, and 46 lieutenant colonels. Fifty-eight members of tho Seventh died under arms from 1861 to 1865. THE SEVENTH’S HEROES. Theodore Winthrop, the author of "John Brent ” and other famous novels of his day, was one. He was shot dead as a major, while leading his men at the fight at Big Bethel. Fitz James O’Brien, who went out with the Seventh and was appointed from it to General Lander’s staff, died of his wounds, in hospital, in 1863. These were two types of the many gallant and patriotic men who threw aside all personal interests and ambitions to help make the regiment the flower of our militia. They did no more than hundreds of others less famous and suffered no more than the other fifty-six in whose honor Ward’s staue stands in Central Park. Col. Lefferts himself died in the service, though not in the field. He resigned his command aftei’ fourteen years’ service and w’as suc ceeded by Col. Emmons Clark, but maintained his interest in the regiment. During the Centennial year the Seventh went to Philadelphia to occupy Camp Washington, on the exhibition grounds, and its old colonel accompanied it. On the cars he was overcome by the heat and he died in his seat of an affection of the heart. The regiment was in the field again in 1862, when Stonewall Jackson raided the Shenandoah Valley and threatened a flank movement on Washington, and again in 1863 to resist Lee’s invasion of Penn sylvania. It got home in time to take a part in the closing scenes of tho draft riots. Its conflict with the mob at Second avenue and Twenty-fourth street was one of the memorable episodes of that memorable time. Since that time the chief event in the Seventh’s history has been the erection of THE NEW ARMORY. The Seventh, as no one need be told, is the crack regiment of the New York militia. From its trim and natty uniform up to the thorough proficiency of its members it is essentially a show regiment. There is a generally prevalent impression that its membership is drawn from the most exalted and ex clusive ranks of local society, but this is VQt tUfi case. The man of fortune is not as frequent in the Seventh as the man of independent means, and he is far outnumbered by the business men and young Commercial men who make up the bulk of the regiment. ' '.'75 Co lon] Clark himself works as hard for his living as any of his command, but he found time between his duties as Secretary of the Health Board io bring tho project which resulted in giving the regi ment its splendid armory. Tho Seventh and the Sixty-ninth are accounted the two strongest regiments in our National Guard, and there is a marked personal sympathy between them. When the Seventh evacuated its armory over Tompkins Market the Sixty-ninth moved into it, and tho two organizations are on the best and most friendly of terms. A book might bo written of the romances attach ing to the Seventh. Indeed, one has been written, by an old member of the regiment. Its heroine is THE CHILD OF THE REGIMENT. In 1853 a little girl of twelve years, the daughter of Major Joseph A. Divver, was adopted by the regi ment as its daughter. She walked down the lino m the drill-room one evening, dressed in a natty mili tary suit, and was hailed with acclamation as a worthy child of a warlike father. Her father had been an officer of tho Seventh for some years, and when he died, while returning from duty during the Mexican war, in which he served as a captain of dragoons, his old comrades undertook the care of his orphaned daughter. Each officer and private paid a dollar a year into a fund for supporting and educating her, and when she came of age she mar ried happily and well. To-day the daughter of the regiment brings her children to see their multitu dinous grandfather on drill, and the boys never fail of a cheer as they go by tor their old protege and tho little volunteers she is preparing to enter the ranks from which her own good fortune sprang. The Eighth Regiment will turn out next iveek, having been kept indoors to-day by important ojjicial business. PRICE FIVE CENTS? THREE STAGES OF LIFE. BY MAY FLEISCHMAN. There is a time in life--■ The brightest days of youth— When wo are ever searching For something more than truthj When our imagination Puts boautyover all, Thon life is at its zenith. Ere hollow mock’ries pall. There is a time in life When man is like the clay. Which wo can mold with card Ci’ spoil and throw away; For if a careless sculptor Should take the work in liand» He’d spoil that bit of nature, Though for a god he planned. But, if it be a sculptor Who knows the vital art, Ho’ll mold that bit of ciay Into a noble heart. There is a time in life When man looks back and sigh® For something left undone, Or something done unwise; * But then whate’er betide us, Whate’er our lives beget. We always leave behind us Some footprints of regret. (gaming Jltorg/ 'WIIN'JVIIVG- ® wmw BY BARBARA DEMPSTER. CHAPTER V. “he had slipped his arm abound her waist. Lyn was awakened the next morning by tbd sunshine streaming in at her window, and for < lew moments she gazed round in bewilderment! unable to remember where she was. Maggia came to her just as she was finishing dressing aud they went down stairs together to thq dining-room, Miss Tibbs and tho two girls breakfasting there before the house-party aw sembled. Mr. Cobb name in just as they had finished and Maggio introduced Lyn. Ho was very civil to her; but Lyn shrank from him in silent, though infinite disgust. His unctuouq manner, the sly, almost cringing fashion inf which he rubbed his hands together, hall-fright) enod her. The day passed, but she saw nothing of lie#' grandfather. He had not expressed any wisH to see her, and Mrs. Cobb told her, when sha( saw her for a moment at the end of tho day) that it would not bo wise for her to go to him( unless he expressly asked for her. Lyn no. quiesced, not seeing very well what else sha could do. Yet though in one way it was a relief not to have logo through the ordeal of the inter-*' view, sho was still conscious of a vague feeling of uneasiness. The day ended and the next on® began, passing away in the same routine. Thc( gay echoes of the doings of the rest of tlief house-party reached the school-room without! disturbing its round of work. Lyn threw her* self, with almost feverish energy, into hetf studies, much to Maggie’s disgust. The latten had a good many grievances as the days won. on. Another guest arriving the day ator Lyn) Mrs. Cobb found that there was not rooirf enough for ths school-room party at the lunch-, eon-table and their dinner was served in then# own wing. It was a great disappointment ta- Maggie, who thoroughly enjoyed the glimpse# into the world of gayety that she obtained at this meal. Nor were they permitted to coma down after dinner to join the party in tho draw ing-room, Mrs. Cobb thinking the visitors toes numerous for girls not yet “ out.” Lyn did not care, the welcome home-letters giving her tha only break she desired in the monotony of hoc day’s work. Tho only visitor who ever mado his way to! their end of the house was Dar Estalby. Tha*; young man, Lyn found to her consternation and vexation, had a troublesome habit oij sauntering into the school-room just about? tea-time. His presence always had the effect of completely silencing. Lyn, though he treated her with tho most scrupulous politeness. But this very courtesy excited Lyn’s suspicions—i) was so very grave and deferential. The Saturday after Lyn’s arrival ho came into the school-room rather earlier than usual. Th4 school-room maid had not arrived yet with tha tea and the room was empty. The young man sank lazily into the most comfortable chair that he could find and whiled away his waiting mo ments by making a clever caricature of Maggia at her studies, which he neatly fastened into one of her exercise-books that was lying tempt ingly near. This done, he leaned back in hia chair and began whistling soltly to himself, h:a eyes fixed dreamily on the rustling tree-tops that stirred in the Summer breeze close to tha window. His reverie was broken by a light footfall. He looked round, then sprang to his feet. If was Lyn, racquet in hand, with a big shady hat on her head, from beneath the rim of whicbi gazed at him two very beautiful, though doubt ful and decidedly vexed eyes. “I beg your pardon,” he said gravely. "X was waiting for Maggie—l hope I shan’t disturb you.” “ No, not at all,” returned Lyn stiffly, laying down her racquet and taking up a book which she carried to the farther end of the room. Hie eyes sparkled with mischief. “ I see that you don’t intend to lot my pres* enco disturb you,” he said, with the same mock gravity, as he looked at her in her corner. “I have some work to do,” she replied; but she let the book rest on her knee and looked at him, her face still flushed and slightly per plexed, as if she did not wish to be rude andl yet had no desire to show him any attention. “Oh, please go on with your work! Don’t mind me,” he said, courteously, and making her feel still more uncomfortable. “ I know you don’t like me—so why should you put yourself out to be civil ?” The coolness and the audacity of the accusa tion nearly took away Lyn’s breath. She sat gazing at- the young man in bewilderment, her pretty face flushed, her lips slightly parted. But his gravity in no way betrayed tho amuse* ment he felt at her consternation. “I don’t know if it be a case of liking,” sha said, after a pause. “ I suppose, whether I like you or not, I ought to be civil to you.” Evon his self-possession was a little upset by the reply. “ Well,” he rejoined, smiling, " I suppose you ought to. But still, if you don’t like me—well, I will not ask so much from you ! It is very hard to be civil to people that you don’t like, isn’t it ?” The merciless eyes fixed upon her face com pelled her still to look at him. He seemed te thoroughly enjoy her confusion. “ Isn’t it?” he asked again.