New York dispatch. [volume], April 12, 1885, Image 1

About New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899

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PUBLISHED BI A. J. WILLIAMSON’S SONS.
VOL. XL.-NO. 26.
Entered at the Post Office at New York,
N. ¥., as Second Class Matter*
THE
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 careftil 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,
Poet Office Box No. 1775.
STEELE MACKAYE REDIVIVUS.
A Positive Man-The New Theatre—En
ter Mack aye—Tlie Automatic Ticket
Speculator — The Electric TJslier—
“No Flies on this Stage”—A Me
chanical Dramatist—Tlie
New Fire Escape.
BY JOHN CARBOY.
it you wish to feast your eyes with the sight of
Positive Man look upon Steele Mackaye.
In this regard, to quote the remark of Mr. J.
Cieesar, who I believe was at one time a person of
considerable consequence in the Roman Empire—
he is as " constant as the northern star, of whose
true fix’d and resting quality there is no follow in
the firmament.’*
He believes in himseX Staff himself only. And he
is of the opinion that with himself he is always in
good company. And being this quality of believer
he can argue his of a question with the direct
ness and force of logic of a Philadelphia lawyer.
Positive? If you doubt it just try and convince
him that he fe Wrong in reference to any given
point in What ke may assert, and you will find your- I
self knocked'out 1 in the first round.
I think that with a fair opportunity for getting
Sn his fine work in the line of argument he coald
<eonvett : Bob Ingersoll, and talk him into the Tanks
■of the Salvation Army as one of its most valiant and
faithful warriors.
Horrever encountered but one individual upon
whom his eloquence was wasted, and who was as
impervious to his powers of persuasion, enforced
hyall the gestures and grimaces of Delsartian ora
tory, as the back of a duck is to water.
individual was Mallory—t7te Mallory.
l lt remained for A. M. Palmer to capture that
stronghold.
I am of the opinion that had Mackaye remained a
~year longer in the management of the Madison
•Square Theatre, he would have converted the entire
■block upon which it stands into one vast theatre,
■with the Fifth Avenue Hotel as an annex in which
to store his constantly increasing stock ox inven
tions and ideas.
I remember that one afternoon in the long, long
ago, when "Hazel Kirke” was in its early youth, I
had occasion to visit the Madison Square taber
nacle and ascend the narrow way to the holy of
holies—the Mallory office.
THE GATES WERE AJAR,
or rather let me say the doors. Shaking the pro
fane dust of the street from my number nine san
dals, I entered the sacred presence.
I made but one step over the threshold and then
paused. There was before me the vision of a tall
form wildly gesticulating and towering over a very
little man who seemed to be crouching and trying
to shrink out of sight and sink into the innermost
recesses of a huge, easy chair.
The tall form was that of Steele Mackaye; the lit
tle man in the easy chair was Mallory. A moment
later Mallory, just as I imagined he was on the
point of shrinking into the nothingness of an atom
of dust—caught sight of me.
»• Saved!” ho murmured, and slid out of the
chair.
In a little while after, I very naturally inquired
■what the trouble was that had caused Mackaye to
turn on the tap of his eloquence.
*' Lord deliver me from evil,” sighed Mallory, “If
you had not come in when you did, I would have
been done for. He was trying to talk me into giv
ing a one hundred dollar bill to every purchaser of
a seat for tho twenty-fifth performance of * Hazel
Kirke,’as a souvenir. And if he had not been in
terrupted by your entrance, I would have had to.
<!o it.”
Now, when the Mallory is no longer a manager;
when the double stage goes up to glory and comes
down to hard pan at the command of Palmer—
tho whirligig of time has again brought the in
domitable and positive Mackaye to the front as a
playwright, a builder, an inventor and—l was about
to say as an actor, but I won’t.
On last Monday The Lyceum Theatre was opened
for the admission of the general public, the in
auguration of Mackaye’s management, and for the
first performance of his comedy drama in five acts.
In a previous issue of the Dispatch there appeared
in the dramatic columns an elaborate and minute
•discription of the interior of this theatre and its
warious decorations.
But the description, carefully prepared as it was,
was by no means complete—for it failed to enumer
ate the many wonderful provisions, invented and
perfected by Mr. Mackaye for the benefit of those
who might hereafter patronise the " temple.”
Some of these inventions were not visible on tho
opening night—but since then they have been
finished and put in place. The glory of the Madison
fiqaaare Theatre with its noiseless ushers, its patent
ventilation, double stage and aerial orchestra
dwindles into insignificance when compared with
this latest addition to .the
" HOMES OF DRAMATIC ART.”
At the main entrance there are on either side of
the lofty and spacious portals a pair of automatic
ticket spectators. The figures are clad in dress
suits, and the whirring sound of the machinery
inside alono indicates that they are other than
things of life. These figures are wound up for busi
ness onceaday. They are a vast improvement over
the speculators to which the public have become
painfully accustomed. Being mere figures they
cannot blaspheme, nor can they expectorate tobacco
juice upon the dresses of the ladies as they pass in.
Each one holds in his outstretched hand a small
box, into which each person desiring to secure seats
■without the trouble of going to the box-office, must
drop the exact amount in silver, through a slit in
tho top. The moment the price of a seat is dropped
in, a handsomely-engraved coupon springs out of
the box into the hand of the purchaser. On the
side of the box is a diagram of the seats, each seat
space being numbered and marked by an electric
button. The purchaser, when he drops the "exact”
amount into the box, has only to touch the button
<of the numbered seat he desires, and the coupon
which flies into his hand will bear the correspond
ing figure.
An automatic figure, as a ticket-seller in the box
office, is all finished except putting a head on it.
Ascending the broad and handsomely-carpeted
stairs to the orchestra entrance, there is visible an
other invention—that of an electric seat indicator,
by which the services of the usual corps of ushers
are dispensed with. At the back are seated, at'small
desks, opposite the entrance to each aisle of the
house, officials, with a series of buttons in front of
them, communicating by electric wires to every
scat on the floor. As the holder of the coupon en
ters, he announces to one of these operators the
iiet/er and number of bis seat. The operator
touches a button, and at once, from the back of the
.seat, there springs up a Strip of card-
board indicating its locality, and thus guides its f
purchaser directly to it. The cardbeard remains i
in sight until the seat is occupied.
Once seated, the auditor, by simply touching a
spring in the back of the seat directly in front of
him, will have a programme, printed on satin,
thrust into his hands.
On the stage the improvements invented by Mr.
Mackaye almost seem marvellous.
THERE ARE NO “ FLIES ” ON THIS STAGE.
There are no grooves; all the sets are made by
means of electric appliances. Strong magnets are
not only used in lieu of braces and screws to hold
set pieces, such as cottages, trees, and rocks, in
place, but to draw up the drops, and work the
entire machinery of the scene. All these magnets
are managed by one person at the prompt place, in
precisely the same manner in which be controls
the front and stage lights. ■
The musicians are automatic, and the sounds of
the various they are supposed to be
playing are so faithfully imitated that none who sat
in front and listened to them on tho first night and
watched the natural movements and realistic ex
pression of the faces of the various players, ima
gined for an instant that they were after all merely
mechanical music-boxes clad in dark suits and sot
in motion by the will of the prompter,
Mr. Mackaye informed me positively that it was
his intention next season to add still
ANOTHER SET OF AUTOMATONS;
a full company of mechanical actors from the
don stage, where they have been in general use so
long that English playgoers have lost all taste for
the real article.
"And see here, my boy,” said Mackaye, leading
the way into a small but gorgeously furnished room
at the rear of the stage. "Do you see that machine
with that huge roll of white paper attached to it ?
Looks like a miniature Hoe press, doesn’t it? When
that is completed, which it will bo in a few days, it
will astonish the playwrights.”
" What is it ?” I asked.
That,” said he, with a Bmile of prido illuminat
ing his face, and patting the machine with his jew
eled hand. “ That, when finished, will be the dram
atist of the theatre. I call it the Improved Three-
Cylinder Boucicanlt. You see that hopper ? Well,
into that I throw throe or four old plays, a sensa
tional novel, and two or throo sheets of music.
Thea I touch this brass knob and the machine be
■gins its work, and in half an hour there comes out
at this lower opening a new and original melo
drama, comedy, farce, or in ft&t any sort of drama"
j tic work I desire—ail printed—with stage business,
everything ready to be put in rehearsal. You. oee 1
that row of knobs, lettered T. Md., C. F> T 3. P.
Whatever kind of splay I desire is ground >aut by
touching one of ’these. The letters indicate Trage-1
dy, Melo-drama,'Comedy, Farce, Spectacle, Panto-;
mime. With the'machine properly fed with reprint
material, I‘can‘j«n off with ease fifty a year.
I intend ; to bull the market in this 'Mne and make
French and the rest of the dealers-sick-df their busi
ness.
“And I’ve got another mechanical contrivance in
my Efind'Which I intend to perfect in a few'weeks,
which will
“INSURE THE SAFETY OF THE AUDIENCE TN
CASE OF FIRE.
* 3 -I spropose, during the season, to put the en
tire auditorium—that is, the orchestra and balcony
—on wheels, so that the whole audience can be slid
into the street and remain tn their seats, where,
they can sit and enjoy the performance of the fire
men and the play of the engines in extinguishing
the flames.”
“But how about the front wall ?”
" Well, I ll find 5 way to'open that—never fear.”
A little while alter Mr. Mackaye had shown me
, this automatic play-producer, and whilb standing
in front of the box office winding up one of the
"Speculators,” which he had forgotten in the hur
ry of business, he suddenly turned upon me with;
“Isay, here —one of my patents I must explain
to you. It is a thirty-day, compensation-balance,
advertising machine. Com-sin here.”
I followed him up the stairs to the top of the
building. In a room rather dark, but still suffi
ciently light to admit of noting its contents, there
was a figure covered with-cloth.
Mackaye touched a button (these electric buttons
are an “ institution” in every part of the house),
and a flood of light made everything distinct. He’
: pulled the doth from the figure. It was that of an
aristocratic-looking person, clad in business suit
and with a face ornamented with a luxuriant mus
tache.
"This is the machine. I am going to use it for
attending to my newspaper work. I call it tho
Bunkum Stuffem Machine. Observe me. I simply
wind it up, give its ear a twisL and put a hat on it
and a cigar in its mouth, and insert in proper or
der in its hand all my daily and weekly ads. I set
it in motion, and once it is on the way down town,
nobody would dream—least of all, the newspaper
crowd—that this Bunkum Stuffem is only a thing '
. of wheels, springs, with a wooden head, glass eyes
and patent reversible joints.
“I have given it a trial, and find that its running
gear requires a little alteration. Yoia see, I con
structed it on the plan of, and to work precisely as
"AN ORDINARY, REAL, LIVE AGENT.
"I started it out, and it did its duty well enough, to
all appearances, but I found that it took advantage
of my confidence. It delivered all the ads, but it
played me for a—well, an innocent. It was work
ing, or trying to work, the commission racket on
them, and pocketing the difference between what it
paid and tho regular price which I gave it.
"So it is that I propose altering it—changing its
action, as it were.”
Wo came down stairs, and over the way the Ash
land House Cafe seemed to invite and yearn for our
presence. Camo Wes. Sisson, the mildest-man
nered manager who ever cut a deadhead or scuttled
a cocktail, and Tom Gossman, who pervades the Ly
ceum Theatre day and night with his restless talent,
nervous energy, and wholesome, manly presence,
as if he were its guardiah spirit.
And "over there”—once again the Lyceum, its
improvements, its possible future, the "school of
acting,” and—some matters of fluidic moment were
sandwiched in between the moments of the hour as
it passed.
Let mo repeat—Stoelo Mackaye is a positive man,
and if hb is anything of a theorist—in theatric affairs
or mechanism—he never forgets to be real, earnest,
and confoundedly positive in his friendships as well
as in his enmities.
And one always knows where to find such a man.
FROM THE VAULTS.
A GOOD CITIZEN’S ONE BAD DEED
AND BITTER MEMORY.
In view of recent agitations over the manage
ment of cemeteries, and the mechanical, unsenti
mental handling of the dead by employees, the fol
lowing remarks of an old man, years ago sexton of
an ancient church of this city, will prove of deep
interest:
"You will not use my name, for I have, as you
know, gained a good reputation as a citizen, farmer,
etc., in Fairfield County, Connecticut; and you will
not mention the name of the old East-side church
with which I was so long connected, for the officers
of that church could very easily tell by the books
that I was one of the men connected with the job
of which I am going to speak. You know that
years ago nearly every church had its adjoining
graveyard, and that burials were even very frequent
in vaults under the churches.
•“Well, in the vaults under the church where I
was so long sexton, bodies had been stored away for
a generation or so. One day the government offi
cials took it into their heads that the public health
required that these remains of the dead should be
removed outside the city, and they issued an order
to carry out their idea. Jim —well, call him Blank
—Jim Blank and I were called upon to do the work
of removal. No very pleasant job, either. The
coffins were piled in some parts of the vaults eight
or ten deep. I was not much of a drinker, but, to
own up to it, I drank whisky all the time the job
lasted—and so did Jim—to keep off tho effects of
NEW ~ YORK? APRIL 12. 1885.
the poisonous air, and we also washed our hands In
spirits, and to further aid in warding off bad effects,
we smoked cigars every blessed minute.
" Some of the coffins were very old and had all
gone to pieces. These and the bones wo smashed
up pretty well with a crowbar on account of saving
space. Soon after we started out on the job, a fine
looking, smoothed-down, polished sort of a man
came to us and said that his wife was buried in
those vaults five years before, and that he would
give us twenty-five dollars if we would find the
coffin for him. Ho gave us the name, age and time
of death. Of course we set right to work on the
search—twenty-five dollars in those days was quite
a sum of money; but hunt as we would we could
not find that coffin. Finally Jim said that we’d bet
ter rig up something for the gentleman. We found
a coffin of the right length and age to correspond
with the description given by our customer.
“ * Hold on, Jim !’ said I. ' Let’s open it. Don’t
make any mistake.’
"We opened tho coffin and found that it con_
tained the body of a mulatto. I needn’t tell you
that we nailed that up pretty quick. By and by we
got a corpse and coffin to suit us, and I went to a
shop and had a plate engraved according to the
strict wording of the directions given us by tho
gentleman. Then wo put that plate in acid and col
ored it off to suit the ago of five years, screwed it
on to the coffin and delivered io the man what he
supposed was the body of his loved wife. Wo got
pur twenty-five dollars; but after a time wo %th
also got bitter memories. As wo older, and
sometimes seriously spoke tq other of that
man’s mourning over the remains of a perfect
stranger, Jim would say t 0 me :
"•We got tba twenty-five dollars, partner; but
I tell you, Y’d give twenty-five hundred dollars, this
very dSy, to have the thing off my mind.’ ”
our buys num.
M'.vi:Nrn
THE NOBLE EIGHTH.
A Regiment with a Long and Gallant Rec
ord—Two Years at the Front) with
a Prince ibr Commander.
When She historian of the future undertakes to
embalm our militia in majestic prose, he will dis
cover the real-difficulties which attend the making
. of history. It is an astonishing fact that only the
obscurest and most slip-shod records chronicle the
, early existence of our citizen soldiery. In many
• regiments, indeed, their origin can only be traced
by inference or analogy, through the meagre infor
; mation of the press. The early militia organiza
tions of New York were purely social in character.
In 1792, When the General Government began mak
ing an annual appropriation, certain ghostly bat
talions began to exist on paper, in order that a
share of the yearly militia money might be handled
by somebody. But of actual organization and sys
tematic recording of the growth cf the so-called
regiments, there is little or none.
The Eighth is only one of several newer regi
ments which suffer from this fact. All that is
known of its early history can be briefly summed
up. The first traces of its organization date back to
1797, and from that time down to the breaking out
of the war, it existed under various titles,
SOMETIMES NEARLY DISORGANIZED,
and at others quite healthy and flourishing. Like
all old militia organizations, it was more of a club
than a military body. The members assembled for
drill, it is true, but sociability invariably got tho
better of discipline. In spite of all the drawbacks
.under which it suffered, the Eighth grew into a
strong organization, andan the fifties took its place
well up among the best of the local militia.
On the memorable night in September, 1858, dur
ing the grand torchlight parade and illumination of
New York in honor of the successful laying of the
first Atlantic cable, the citizens of Staten Island
burned the Quarantine buildings. On the follow
ing Saturday the Eighth Regiment, in full march
ing order, with a large sidewalk committee, went
into camp on the hospital grounds, and when Staten
Island was put under martial law, Colonel Lyons
> was put in command of the whole County of Rich
mond. The first night in camp was uncomfortable
enough for the boys, as tho cold rain storm had wet
everything, and following a spell of hot weather,
the contrast was rather unpleasant. Add to this,
seventeen yellow fever patients and some with
smallpox, had to be taken care of, and it will be
seen that it was rather unlike a military picnic.
The regiment served two weeks at Quarantine,
where they were relieved. Their sojourn at the
island was beneficial, however, as they were drilled
constantly, and made a splendid appearance as they
marched up Broadway on their return.
; Previous to this, on the 4th of July, 1857, the
Dead Rabbit riot took place in Bayard street, near
the Bowery, at midnight. The Eighth Regiment
had quite a force in the array of men who had
turned out almost without notice. During the
whole month of July, 1857, riots of one kind or
another took place, keeping the regiment more or
less under arms, and it was at this season and to
this probation that its first great efficiency
UNDER ARMS IS DUE.
Tho Eighth was also put in the police riots. On
the 16th of June, 1857, the Seventh Regiment was
halted at the Park on its way to Boston, for the pur
pose of quelling a police riot and arresting Mayoi*
Wood in his office in the City Hall. The Eighth
Regiment had a large battalion en route for Boston,
and they were ordered to stop at the Battery to
await further orders. They were forgotten, and
passed the night there. They left in the morning,
and reached Boston on the evening of the 17th,
after the great celebration was over. Thanks to
this event, the regiment, for many years, was
known by the (to ail people not conversant with its
origin) mysterious tilfe,
“THE DAY LATES.”
When the war broke out, the Eighth was re-organ
ized, and enlisted to serve for two years in the
volunteer service. Colonel (afterward General)
Louis Blenker was in command, and when he re
ceived his promotion ho was followed by Colonel
Julius Stobel, who was also promoted. Colonel
Wutschell followed, and was dismissed after serving
less than a year. Tho remainder of its term of
service the regiment was in command of Prince
Salm-Salm, and the Colonel’s dashing wife was a
familiar figure in its camp. The Eighth at that
time was a thoroughly German regiment, from its
commanding officers down to the rank and file.
The Eighth fell into the disorganization which be
fel nearly all our militia regiments alter the war,
but has, of recent years, been vigorously shaken up
and drilled into form as one of the leading organiza
tions of the N. G. S. N. Y.
Colonel George D. Scott, the present commander
of the Eighth, has been in the regiment since he en
tered it as a private in 1856. He went to the front
as sergeant in Company F in 1861 and in 1863 had
become a first lieutenant. He has been colonel
since October 18tb, 1869. Old a militiaman as he is,
his second in command outranks him by years of
service.
Lieutenant Colonel Francis A. Schilling is a
Frenchman by birth and an American by choice.
He entered the Twentieth Regiment in October, 1851,
as private, and having left the district in 1853, en
tered the Fifty-fifth in 1859. He went to the front
with the Fifty-fifth as a first lieutenant and vacated
that office in 1862 to enter the volunteer service.
When the war was over he went back to his old
regiment, to which he stuck till its disbandment.
His connection with the Eighth began as lieutenant
colonel in 1870, and he was honored with the brevet
of colonel in 1879.
Among other veterans in the regiment are Adju
tant James O. Johnson, who has been in it since
1854, and Inspector of Rifle Practice Barker, who
entered as a private in 1857. Both these officers
have wa/records..
The war history ot the Eighth Regiment forms
one of the most interesting features of the memoirs
of Prince balm Salm, published a couple of years
anil
ago by his wife. The prince returned to Europe af
ter the war and died there some ten years ago. He
was one of the most dashing and brilliant of the
many gallant foreigners who served under the stars
and striped in their hour of need. Fighting was a
passion with him, and when this country ceased to
offer him an opportunity to indulge his sanguinary
hobby, he went to Mexico and took a hand in the
wars there, which led to the sacrifice of Maximilian.
The regiment he commanded, now ranks among
the quartette which lead our National Guard. It is
worthy of its history.
The Seventy-first Regiment will report for duty next
Sunday* It is a fighting regiment with a record of its
own,
THU MTfflllll OOT.
Anxious to be Rid of Their Help-
Meets.
MEN THE POOR AGGRIEVED CREATURES.
Some Motions Made in Chinntjerg Before
Justice Barrett.
The first case reads like a chapter from a novel of
the French school.
SPENCER VS. SPENCER—I.BOO CHARGES OF
ADULTERY.
This was a motion to strike out certain allegations
in the complaint which were Bliam, and ftlso for
additional counsel fee. The Application was for
SSO a week alimony for the wi'fo, the plaintiff was
entirely able to pay it. He is Sector in a savings
bank. He has 430 shares in the docidental Com
pany, SIOO a share, paying eight per ’dbnt interest,
beside that he made $25,000 last year, Without
going into details, he was able to pay the alimony,
which was reasonable, to support her and her child
seven years of age. Counsel also asked a fee of SSOO
to be paid him by the husband for defending the
wife. He did not think the amount excessive, con
sidering the circumstances of plaintiff.
The defendant also asked for a bill of particulars,
and counsel got it. It was very sweeping. It was
an anomaly, perhaps, never heard of in a court in
this country; it was without precedent in this or
any other court. The counsel states that, and it is
sworn to, this defendant committed adultery every
day for six years, except Sunday. That was the
most sweeping charge of adultery that he ever heard
husband make against wife. And more than that;
she was committing adultery with two men, and at
the same time she was living in the house with her
husband and two children. At the same time that
all this was going on she was living with her hus
band, she was moving in good society, was a mem
ber and regular attendant every Sunday of a well
known church. During all this time, every day,
there was an oct of adultery committed with one of
these two men, to tho number of between seventeen
and eighteen hundred specific acts. Counsel had
framed his issues, and the two gentlemen, well
known, who were charged, deny every one of the
allegations, and so did the woman, so did members
of her family.
Judge Barrett said counsel was entitled to a reas
onable fee to meet such an array of charges.
Counsel said charges of adultery were alleged in
three States, and at Asbury Park, N. J., more par
ticularly.
Judge Barrett said the fee of counsel was not ex
orbitant, and granted the motion.
This extraordinary trial will come up soon, but
whether with open or closed doors it is not yet
known.
LEVY vs. LEVY—IN JAIL IN CONTEMPT.
Mr. Levy was sued by Mrs. Levy for limited di
vorce. The court had ordered him to pay his wife’s
counsel to prosecute him, fifty dollars, counsel fee,
and, pending the suit, the wife five dollars a week,
alimony. He refused to pay to be prosecuted and
to give five dollars a week to a woman he didn’t
live with. He didn’t comply with the order of the
court and went to New Jersey. That was fourteen
months ago. He returned to tho city, was arrested,
and is now in’Ludlow Street Jail, guilty of contempt
of court.
"He never paid the five dollars a week?” said
Justice Barrett,
"No,” replied counsel.
"That is enough. No court will dismiss on a
motion of this kind.”
"The motion is to discharge from arrest,” said
counsel. " The action is for limited divorce—a
separation. In her complaint, all she swears to is
that on one occasion, the 14th of September, 1883,
the defendant, without cause, almost choked her to
death, threw her down, kicked her, put her out of
the house in the street, and threw a pail of water on
her. That is tho only one allegation in the com
plaint, and charge of cruelty, in a long married life.
He was arrested, the two went to the station-house,
and the sergeant at tho desk discharged him. Sii&e
his imprisonment in jail he has been unable to earn
money or obtain the alimony. If released he might
get money to pay counsel to prosecute him.”
“ How about being absent from the city fourteen
months ?” asked the Court.
" The lawyer he retained advised him to go over
to New Jersey. He went there, and when he came
back and was arrested, I was substituted. The suit
was instigated by the woman’s father. The defend
ant was sick, and if long imprisoned was likely to
die. He was a tailor.”
Counsel for the woman said the case had been
three times up before the court, and on the 15th of
October, 1883, when this order of the court was
entered, defendant fled the city. The only ques
tion to consider was, would further punishment
endanger his life. Ho (counsel) had the affidavits
of two physicians who had examined him, and
found him in a healthy condition.
The Justice held that Levy was still in contempt,
and he must remain in jail.
Levy must raise the funds to enable his wife to
prosecute him.
FRANCE vs. FRANCE.
This is an action for limited divorce, on the.
ground of abandonment. When the original com
plaint was served, it did not show that both parties
were residents of the city of New York. It did not
set forth that they had resided in the State a
Counsel for the woman said ho was not aware at
the time that that fact should have been set forth.
The other side said that was counsel’s mistake.
Where the marriage, as in this case, had been be
yond the limits of the State, it was necessary to al
lege that the parties had been residents of the State,
and had continued residents in it for a year. But
even now defendant was allowing his wife SSO a
month during their separation.
The motion was merely a question to get costs.
Of course it was granted, to get a speedy trial.
HERMAN vs. HERMAN.
This application was for alimony pending the
suit. Counsel asked $250 counsel fee, and for the
woman $lO a week. Defendant was worth $40,000.
The woman was not in good health, and was here
a>tranger among strangers, from Savannah.
After hearing the other side, Judge Barrett re
duced counsel fee to $l5O, and gave the woman $lO
a week alimony.
The Polite Cat.—A member of the
British Zoological Society tells this story, so it inust
be true : " I once had a cat who always sat up to the
dinner-tabffi with me, and had his napkin round his
neck, and his plate and some fish. He used his
paw, of course; but he was very particular and be
haved with extraordinary decorum. When he had
finished his fish I sometimes gave him a piece of
mine. One day he was not to be found when the
dinner-bell rang, so we began without him. Just as
the plates were put round for the entree, puss came
rushing up stairs and sprang into his chair with two
mice in his mouth. Before he could be stopped, he
dropped a mouse on to his own plate and then one
on to mine. He divided his dinner with me, as I
divided mine with him.”
TRICKS OF SMCGGLERS.
Ths Yacht “Seagull” of the
Royal Club.
Transformations Which Puzzled
the Revenue Service.
How an Extensive Scheme of the Con
trabandists was Discovered.
•‘I suppose you think no more smuggling is car
ried on upon the English coast,” the detective said;
“if you do, you’re mistaken. Of course, this of
fense against the laws is in the province of the pre
ventive service. Nevertheless, I have been more
than once called on to lend a hand in aid of the gov
ernment, and the last time not so very long ago.”
The detective assumed a comfortable position,
and narrated what follows:
The harbor of Ilfracombe, in Devonshire, Eng
land, is one of the most remarkable in existence. It
is a very small bay, absolutely shut in by tall cliffs,
• except at the entrance, across which you might
throw a stone. At low tide inside is not much bet
ter than a mud-hole, nevertheless it is one of the
most piettirem? s F otf ? R ™, nd
harbor are wharves and a hotel or two, and all u$ j
the hillside beautiful residences. It is a Summer
‘ resort for wealthy people, who spend money freely,
and want the best of everything.
THE “SEAGULL.”
In Jtin'S, 1878, just after the season had fairly be-
• giih, a very pretty schooner yacht entered the port
? of Ilfracombe, as it is ostentatiously called. She
p ; e&me snug up to a wharf, and it was soon ascertain
-3 ed that she was the “ Seagull,” owned by a wealthy
J merchant, and had come there to await the pleasure
of her owner and his friends who were staying at
» Bouchier Park, fifteen miles avray. Next day, how
ever, she received orders to go round to Barnstaple,
» and sailed away.
I In less than a month she came into the harbor, as
3 before, and several passengers landed and walked
0 about the bights and saw the sights. The next
morning she was away by the first tide, and the
same afternoon the queen’s revenue cutter “Hawk”
•> crawled into the harbor to look after a square-sail
8 schooner which it had chased from the French
II coast, in the vicinity of Morlaix, suspecting her to
r be a smuggler. They kept her in sight, as they sup
-8 posed, all night, but were surprised when daylight
y came to find that what they had taken for the smug
-0 glar was an elegantly appointed fore-and-aft schoon
d er yacht.
; A BIG SMUGGLING SCHEME,
it About this time I was employed by the govern
r ment to investigate an extensive smuggling
kt scheme. One Endicott, a custom officer at Brid
a- port, in Dorsetshire, was discovered to have been
i- engaged in aiding smugglers to a large extent. At
1- the moment when everything was prepared to ar
rest him, he disappeared and left no trace. I went
)f down to Bridport and began a quiet search into the
n facts.
,d Endicott was a man with a family, and lived in a
1- modest way. I found, however, that within the
ie last few years his brother, who was a farmer, twen
rs ty miles inland, had become very prosperous, and
was accounted wealthy. He had built a fine dwell
s- ing, and Endicott’s family spent the best part of
the year there. At the time I went to Bridport,
n Mrs. Endicott was residing there. One morning I
r- watched for the postman, and as he went to the
door of her residence I went there also. I let him
s- ring, and caught a glimpse of a letter he handed in.
It bore the Exeter postmark. I asked to see Mr.
it Endicott, and appeared to be surprised when I was
et informed he was not at home.
THE LETTER.
That evening I started for Exeter, and next day
j. waited round the post-office. I had a photograph
> 8 of Endicott, and felt sure I should know him if I
e saw him. He didn’t show up. I showed my cre
dentials to the postmaster, and found that three
3 letters were there from Bridport—two to well.
»t known citizens and a third to be called for. I wait
-10 od until this letter was demanded by a ’small girl.
n It was addressed to Mr. Williams.
j “If you please, sir,” said the girl to the postmas
ter, “here’s a postage stamp, and would you
change the address on this letter to Ilfracombe ?
j Mr. Williams has gone there, and won’t be back.”
The postmaster said it was hardly the thing, but I
suggested quietly that it was safe for him to do it
a in the interest of the Government. He did it, and
1 went to Ilfracombe.
The letter came safely enough to that place, but
a no one called for it. Early, however, the next
[ g morning, when the postmaster’s wife was in
j charge, while her husband was at his breakfast, a
0 man of whom I could get no description called and
jf got the letter. All that day I went around looking
u for my man.
t . THE MAN ON THE CLIFF.
j. Just at dusk, I saw a man answering to the hight
, and build of Endicott quit the lighthouse on the
e cliff and hastily descend by the walk to the quay
q just below the cliff. I followed and kept him in
t sight until he reached the bottom, when he sudden
ly and thoroughly disappeared. I questioned some
Q persons lounging around but none of them had seen
any stranger.
r “I saw Mr. Storer come down the cliff just now,
e and enter his warehouse,” said a man.
j I went into the warehouse and asked for Mr.
Storer. A man appeared in a straw hat and a loose
0 jacket, just such as were worn by the man whom I
had followed.
3 “ Excuse me, sir,” I said, “ but did you come
f down the cliff just now ?”
g He smiled good-humoredly and seemed sur
prised.
t “Youmusn’t take offense,” I said, “ but I saw
g some one come out of the lighthouse a little while
j ago and descend to the quay whom I took for a
friend.”
‘•You saw me,” said the gentleman; “I was up
there to see whether there was any signs of a
5 schooner we are expecting from Swansea.”
George,” he added, addressing a clerk, “ go and
tell Graves that the schooner is not in sight.”
The clerk quitted the office, and after a few words
3 . of apology I left. I hung around,’ however, and
fifteen minutes later, I saw a man descending the
> cliff. I watched him and he went into Storer's ware
t house. It was the clerk whom Storer had sent to
, tell Graves the schooner was not in sight.
‘ SUSPICIONS.
This set me thinking. Was Graves a myth, and
had the clerk been dispatched to instruct the light
house man that, if he was asked who had been with
him, he must say, “Mr. Storer, to look out fora
’ schooner which he expects from Swansea.” At
b eleven o’clock Mr. Storer locked up his place and
1 went home. I watched it all night, and at daylight
went to my hotel, that stood right on an angle of
the quay, and overlooked all the harbor. I washed
my hands and face and had breakfast. At half past
ten it was high water, and just then in came a top
-3 sail schooner and, after reefing her sails, hauled in
’ to Storer’s wharf. She took on board a few articles,
• and among them a puncheon of Devonshire bams—
-3 so it was labelled —which was rolled with much care
down the wharf from the warehouse, and stowed on
■ the deck of the schooner. Then the schooner
) hauled off, and went out with the ebbing tide,
DISGUISED LIKE AN OLD SAILOR,
and, taking a glass under my arm, I ascended to the
! summit of the cliff. The schooner was not a mile
; away, and I could.see all on board. I saw some of
• the crew gathered around the puncheon. I sa'w the
i head removed, and the form of a man emerge. Bad
as I felt, I recognized the man whom I had seen
quit the light-house, who I now felt sure was Endi
cott. The schooner was making for sea with a fresh
breeze. I knew that a steam gunboat in the pre
ventive service was at Redenth, and I telegraphed
down there, and told them I would start at once by
the first train. I did so, and by four o’clock that
afternoon we were steaming out of Redenth to in
tercept the schooner. In less than an hour we saw
a vessel bowling along toward us at fifteen knots.
But she was a fine looking fore and aft yacht, with
the pennant of the Royal Yacht Club streaming
OFFICE, M.U FRANKFORT ST.
out, we could see her beautiful brass work gleam
ing in the setting sun, and by and by the uniforms
of her crew. I watched her intently with my glass
where I could not bo observed. Suddenly there was
a stir on board the yacht, and something was lifted
to the bulwarks and
DROPPED INTO THE SEA.
As we passed we saluted and found the yacht was
the “Seagull.” I had my glass on a dark object
which I took to be what the yacht had heaved over
board. I directed attention to it, and we steamed
close by it. It was a pun'cheou, with one end out,
floating buoyantly.
“Lieutenant,” said I to the officer in command,
“that is the vessel we want. Endicott is aboard her
as sure as you live. That is the topsail schooner
which I have told you about, but changed as you
see. Ten to one she is a smuggler.”
We wore about in no time and steamed after the
yacht. Sail after sail she set, and it was clear it was
going to be a chase. We hoisted sail, however, and
as we could make seventeen knots easily, we soon
overtook her. A signal was made for her to heave
to, and as our gun would have knocked her to
splinters in ten minutes, she deemed discretion the
better part of valor and hove to. The lieutenant, a
midshipman, myself and four men went on board.
Endicott was there sure enough, and quietly deliv
ered himself up. The midshipman and two men
were put in charge and the gunboat convoyed the
, k*. “ .n vz -r ’ .r
“ Seagull ” into Plymouth.
TRICKS OF THE SMUGGLERS*
The arrangements on board the “yacht’* were
unique. By means of a few sliding planks her
sides could bo so altered as to make her look like
another vessel. All her brass gear could be unship
ped and stowed away, and her topsails hoisted, and
in a few minutes she could then be completely
transformed from an elegant yacht into a common
coasting topsail schooner, and from that into an
elegant yacht.
Alter this the revenue service paid its respects to
Mr. Storer, at Ilfracombe, and learned all about the
visits of the yacht to his wharf, as related before.
Furthermore, valuable articles which had never’
paid duty were found stowed away in Storer’s ware
house. He had long carried on a thriving trade in
contraband goods, and Endicott had been in collu
sion with him. That all parties implicated—not
excepting the lighthouse keeper, who was one of
the gang—got their deserts, you may be sure; for
John Bull keeps a very jealous watch over the
sources of his revenue.
THE JUDGE’S JOKE.
HIS INTEREST IN HIS SON’S EX
TRAORDINARY SUNDAY
DEVOTIONS.
There are hundreds of clubs in this city which
have no formal organization, and are even without
names. But theirs is genuine club life in all essen
tial matters—the daily and nightly rendezvous of
congenial spirits—headquarters of “old cronies,”
who would feel as if something were lost out of
their day did they neglect “ the daily meet.” For
example, many a politician would feel it to be an
’ actual hardship to pass the Astor House without
1 the opportunity of greeting old comrades in the Ro
tunda. At one of these nameless clubs yesterday,
1 made up largely of legal and literary lights, and
which might properly be called “The Story Tellers’
■ Club,” one of the members gave the foilowing anec
dote, which he vouched for as strictly true. He gave
L the names, but out of regard to the family only the
’ initial is here given:
1 “Judge 8., of New Haven, was a remarkably able
jurist, and as upright as the ideal Judge himself.
He had a son of great merit and cleverness, who also
1 was ‘bred to the law,’ and who was always called
Sammy B. Now Sammy had one fault; he would
not only ‘take a nip,’ but sometimes two or three
nips, and was consequently very noticably nipped
J himself at times. By the way. when he got ‘sprung’
he revealed hfs condition ft those who knew him
well, not by any stagger or crooked walk, but by
the bee line which he took when walking. On the
sidewalk his walk was in such a’rigid air lino that it
suggested that he was trying to walk a crack along
a floor. In other words, he was so very straight
that he inclined to lean backward. The judge him
self was a very abstemious man, but he did keen a
demijohn of brandy in his office with which to treat
his friends.
“ In due course of time Sammy found out where
the Judge kept the key of the closet in which he so
carefully locked up the brandy. The Sunday follow
ing, he ostensibly started for church, but got no
further in his devotions than that brandy closet.
He felt perfectly safe, as the Judge never visited his
law office on Sunday. So Sammy, with a couple of
boon companions, had, or thought he had, a good
time. When the church folks went home Sammy
joined them and reached- his father’s house on
regulation time. At dinner the Judge pleasantly
said:
“ ‘ And now, Sammy, may I ask you where you
have been ? To church ?’
“ ‘Yes, father.’
“ ‘And what church did you attend ?’
“ ‘Oh, I went down to the Second Methodist.’
“ ‘That’s right, Sammy, that's right. Always go
to church of a Sunday when you can. And what
text did the doctor preach you ?’
“‘Well, the fact is, I can’t remember. I'm not
very strong on texts. But it was about faith.*
“ Then Sammy rattled off on some other subject,
and his father questioned him no more on the
church service. The next Sunday the young man
again visited his father’s office, and of course the
closet, and at dinner the old Judge good-naturedly
and confidently remarked:
“‘That’s a good boy, Sammy; been to church
again, eh ?’
“ ‘ Yes, said Sammy, down to the Second Metho
dist.’
“ Fortunately for the son, the father didn’t extend
this line of questioning. The third Sunday Sammy
also visited his fathers's law office, and likewise the
brandy closet. He complacently smacked his lips
in expectancy, and lovingly drew out the old demi
john. To his consternation he found it empty, tho
cork gone, and tied in the willow a card with this
inscription:
“ • The Second Methodist Church is closed for
repairs.’
“ Sammy B. hadn’t the courage to join the shrewd
old Judge at dinner that day.”
mscinatinVmary.
A WARNING TO YOUNG LIQUOR
DEALERS.
Mary Cole, a married woman, appeared on the
witness stand as complainant against Mr. Geary,who
keeps a liquor saloon at No. 345 East Thirty-third
street. The case is a warning to all young men who
keep liquor saloons not to be fascinated by custom
ers. Mrs. Cole, who had a baby in her arms, said
that she entered defendant’s place on the 23d of
March and was assaulted and knocked down, and in
the scuffle she lost $8 and her baby fell on the floor.
Counsel for Mr. Geary then took her in hand, and
the following answers that came to the questions
can be surmised: Married ? Yes. Husband liv
ing? Don’t live with him. Support myself by
washing. Never was arrested for soliciting. Had
known Geary about a month. Went to his store
and demanded the $8 that he took from her. Her
husband had been gone from her four months. She
was understood to say that he was in Sing Sing.
Mr. Geary said he was proprietor of the liquor sa
loon No. 345 East Thirty-third street, and continued:
“This woman invited me to her room twice. The
first time she asked money. The second time I was
invited for fun. I went. I ain’t in the habit of
drinking, but I took a little and lay down. In the
morning I don’t know how I sneaked out of the
room, but I got out. She came down to the store
afterward and said I had robbed her of SB. Lord ! I
had paid her ! I was mad at that. I had paid her,
and then to be charged with taking back in a sneak- |
ing way what I had given ! Lord ! I was mad ! but
I didn’t lay a hand on her. I was tempted. I pay '
my way, gentlemen.”
He couldn’t say how she supported herself, except
it was in the way she worked him.
The court fined Mr. Geary SSO. i
PRICE FIVE CENTS
“IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.”
BY KATIE M. LUCK.
It might have boon I Oh, saddest words of all*
Wo dream and dream of scenes beyond recall.
Sad thoughts will come, and burning tears will fall*'
For “might have been.”
Oh, could we live our lives all o’er again !
Could we forget the present, with the pain
Of thoughts that are unspoken I All in vain.
It might have been.
It might have been. Oh, words of wild regret;
Sorrow for vanished hours, and yet—ah, yet—
Would we, if e’en we could, forget—forget
What might have been ?
Ah, well! perchance for all some sweet hope lies
Buried deeply, maybe, from human eyes,
And none but God may ever hear our sighs
O’er “ might have been.”
God knoweth best; and though ours tears fast fall a
Though none beside may know, He knoweth all,
All that is sad and lost beyond recall—
The “ might have been.**
■ WINNING
HEIt IMIERIWCE.
BY BARBARA DEMPSTER.
CHAPTER VII.
“on ! HE IS—A MAN I”
Dar Eatalby had put the last strain upon Lyn’a
■ endurance. This was worse than all. Mrs.
Cobb’s insulting insinuations, Mr. Cobb’s oiljt
politeness, all the discomforts and troubles, tha
weary home-sickness which had made hor heart,
ache and fail in this house of strangers, seemeit
as nothing to this last insult. That he should
think so lightly of her as to kiss her, and ima
gine that she would submit to the indignity 1 IS
seemed as if her last protector had been taken
from her—for how could she trust in him again?
She could not tell what feeling possessed her,
unless it was a vague, wild fear, a passionata
aching at her heart, that made tho desire to
leave the house an irresistible power; but, aa
she ran toward tho house to make her way to
her own room, she was resolved upon one thing.
Nothing should keep her from her grandfather.
She went with swift light steps down tho cor
ridor leading to his room, though she dreaded
■ every second to bear the stealthy step of Mr.
’ Cobb creep out upon her, and imagined that
every sound was tho sharp harsh voice of Mrs.
■ Cobb calling her back. She passed behind tho
curtain and reached the door. With beating
’ heart she knocked; but the knock was timid and
, uncertain. There was no answer.
She knocked again, this time rather louder.
, Still no reply came—only, as she bent her head
, forward to listen, she fancied sho heard a slight
movement; but as she knocked again and lis
> toned, all was silent once more. Though al
most terrified at her own. audacity, and with
1 her heart beating so loudly that she could hear
j it, she suddenly turned the handle of the door*
and, pushing it open, stepped into tho room.
’ Then she nearly turned and fled, startled out
, of all presence of mind by herself alontf
her grandfather. He was sitting in an
arm-chair, placed near a writing-table; but ha
was paying no attention to tho papers strewn in
. front of him, but was sitting upright and look
ing toward the door. As she stepped in and
found herself looking straight into his eyes, it
seemed to the startled girl as if a carious light,
’ almost of satisfaction, gleamed in them.
But there was a strange expression on hia
face that frightened her. It was deadly pale,
with a curious rigid stiffening of the features, a
strained, anxious look, almost agonized in its .
intensity. Save for that sudden brightening in
his eyes, he betrayed no other sign cither o£
wonder or disapproval, or even consciousness
of her uninvited presence.
“Grandfather 1” she faltered, a ter a second,
as he neither stirred nor spoke, “Grandfather,
won’t you speak tome?’ Sho drew a step or
two nearer. Then a sudden fear seized her,
and she hurried to his side. “Are you ill?
What is tho matter ? Shall I call somebody ?”
Terrified at tho ghastliness of his face, she
turned to run for help. But suddenly, as if
with a violent effort, he raised his hand
touched her arm.
“So you have come at last,” he said, as shd
turned swiftly to him again, tho words coming
hoarsely and indistinctly from bis whito, stiff
lips.
“ At last I’’ sho echoed, more frightened than
ever at the strange sound of his voice.
“They said you would not come,” ho went on,
an almost imperceptible pause between each
word, as if the effort to speak were almost be
yond his strength.
“Would not come!” She understood hind
now, and, in her indignant resentment, almost
forgot his strange looks. “ I have asked a groat
many times, and they would not let mo !”
Again the flash of brightness gleamed in hid
eyes; but it seemed to make the white mask
like stillness of his face only more ghastly.
“Ob, grandfather,” she cried, “what is it?
For tho sake of my father, who was your only
son, speak kindly to me; don’t let all that past
hardness live between us. Be good to us, ami
let us love you. We are lonely; but not so lone
ly as you, for we have each other to love and
trust to; but you have no one
She had sunk down on tho ground as sho
pleaded, her face Hushed and eager, her eyea
loving and pitiful. She had no thought for any
thing that moment save for hie loneliness and
isolation in the midst of that envious, grasping,
greedy family.
A spasm of intense pain contracted his faco
as he slowly, still with the same strange appar
ent effort, turned his head to look down at her.
“Oh, grandfather,” she said imploringly, full
of pity lor that long, lonely, unloved life, “let
us love you I”
“You will think I have been hard—unjust.
It is too late now to change anything; but I
searched out what was right, and—it—seemed
—to
The words, which had come slower and
slower, hoarser and more indistinct, ceased
abruptly. The hands slipped from the table on
which they had been resting, and fell cold and
nerveless upon here. Then the gray head fell
forward, as a strange low hoarse sound broka
from the pallid lips, and old Mr. Irwyn lay still
and senseless, his head resting upon his papers.
Lyn sprang to her feet and tried to raise tha
heavy head, looking instinctively toward tha
door. On' its threshold stood Dar Estalby; ha
had come to pay his daily visit to the old man.
“Oh, Mr. Estalby!” she cried, forgetting all
else. Her white terrified face told him what
had happened. The next second he was at hen
side. With grave gentleness he put her away,
and bent over the bowed head.
“ Go and call them,” he said; and, as she flocl
out of the room, he reverently lifted the down
turned faco and looked at it.