New York dispatch. [volume], October 11, 1885, Page 7, Image 7

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

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
AT TH^JPIANO.
Before the ivory keys she sat
And touched the notes; but»Uof that
Was much like other people at
A grand piano;
But suddenly, when all was still.
Across my heart there came a thrill,
Responsive to a mellow trill
01 solt soprano.
Then all seemed changed—the little room
Was fragrant with a faint perfume,
-As if a rose-bush burst in bloom
And showed a blossom;
'Twas only one, 1 knew lull well —
How happily it seemed to dwell,
Where first it lifted and then fell
Upon her bosom.
Outstretched a little was her chin,
A solitary dimple in,
Which seemed to say : “ When I begin
To change and alter,
Beware I Young Cupid lurketh near!”
Alas, I did not choose to hear, ,
And soon my lips a timid “Dear,”
Began to falter.
.And on and on throughout that song—
'The notes now faint, now clear and strong—
My heart grew nstless, till ere long
I touched her shoulder;
The fingers from the white keys dropped,
Down from her lips the songster hopped,
The music, note by note, was stopped
And then I told her.
lilS OitS BisTßflP.
®Y AN EX-ENQLIsH DETECTIVE.
' ■’*
It is now many years ago since I and iily Com
rade Joyce were sent to a village in one of the
Southern counties of England to discover acer- ■
tain person who had robbed the squire of the
place of a large sum of money. Our instruc
tions were to stay there till we succeeded ; and
as the squire was wealthy and grudged no ex- ;
penee, we made our dwelling in a quiet farm
house where there was plenty to amuse us in
our leisure intervals. We were quite alone, 1
with the exception of an old woman who did 1
the domestic work and minded the house when
we were away on duty. :
"Well, we found the thief to he a discharged ■
footman, whose knowledge of the locality had
hitherto saved him from detection, though wo
proved much too sharp ior him in the end. 1 ■
heed not trouble you with his alter fate.
Enough, that I am about to relate an event
which happened belore he was arrested, and in
which I was accidentally concerned in a very
curious way. , . ~
We had made two acquaintances m the course
of Our walks abroad. One Was a retired farmer
named Branwell, who lived all by himself about
« mile off. He was a bachelor, whose relations
were said to have quarrelled with him, but no
body seemed to know the exact truth, or to care
touch about it either. I ascertained that the
first week I was there.
The other acquaintanoe was named vole, ana
had been a farrier, or something of the kind. 1
had heard of this Cole as incurably irritable
and morose, and am free to confess that rumor
had not belied him. However, he made a point
of being very civil whenever we met him, and
would never let us pass his cottage without
speaking to us. He was a heavy-browed man,
and his eyes had a strange filmy look which al
ways repelled me when 1 met his gaze. I do not
believe he liked me; I certainly did not like
him. , .
Jovce and I were sitting one evening smoking
our pipes, when 1 casually remarked that I had
not seen Bran Well for the last fortnight.
“Neither have I,” said Joyce.
“That is odd,” I remarked. I think 111 go
to his cottage to-night He may be ill, you
know.”
“ I’ll go with you, Elder.”
“You had better stay here and let me go
alone,” I saia. “He might fancy it an intru
sion il we both went together.”
Joyce’s attentive face relaxed.
“ Yes, I understand,’'he answered. “Sup
pose, then, 1 follow you in half an hour, and
meet you outside the cottage ? Don’t refuse me,
Elder, for I won’t have it.’ T
So it was settled. I put on my hat and start
ed at a brisk pace down the road, keeping
steadily on between the black line ot hedges on
one side, and the open fields on the other. It
was an ugly night, the wan moon shone at in
tervals through drilling clouds, and the air was
oppressively heavy.
I reached the heath; I mounted the hill—and
there was the cottage, its gray root showing
dimly against the sky. The door was unfast
ened, and yielded easily to my touch.
I waited a minute, and then went in.
Having no lantern, I struck a match, and as
it flared up I saw a piece of candle on the win
dow-ledgo beside me. I lit the candle, and
folding it above my head, advanced slowly in
to the middle of the room. The light showed
me a broken chair, an overturned table and a
bed.
On that bed lay a dead man, whom I at once
identified as Bran well.
How had he come by his death ? Judging by
the gaping wound in his throat, he had been
foully murdered, and then placed there exactly
as I saw him. I know not how it was, but the
thought of suicide never occurred to me for a
moment. No; I was as certain he had been
slain as if I had witnessed the deed myself. !
The disordered appearance of the furniture, the
dark stains on the bed and floor—all told ot a
struggle, who shall say how fierce and cruel ?
Ino longer hesitated as to the proper course :
to pursue. Belore anything in the place was
disturbed, it was my duty to report the occur
rence at the farm and let others decide what I
should do next.
As these thoughts passed through my mind,
I suddenly felt a breath of cold air behind me,
and the candle was knocked out of my hand.
What did it mean? I had heard no sound ■
but my own footstep; I bad seen nothing but
the dead man. The candle was still flickering
on the gound where it fell. Before I could
roach it, a foot striding out of the gloom trod it
fiercely down, and the whole chamber was sunk
in darkness.
I stood helpless, like one turned to stone. All
at once there rose, in the awlul silence, the
weird howl of a benighted dog. When this
ceased, the next thing I remember was a knock
ing at the door, and the cheerful voice of Joyce
calling me by name.
“ Come in, for pity’s sake I” I cried. “ I
shall go out of my senses if I stop here much
longer.”
“ Steady, Elder!—what’s amiss ? Hold up a
second.”
He had brought his lantern with him, and he
turned its light full upon me.
“ Why, man alive, how pale you are I” said
he, clapping a bottle to my mouth. “ Try a
drop of brandy, and you'll perhaps feel better.”
I did feel better. The brandy sent the blood
back to my heart, strengthened my mind and
nerves, restored me, soul and body, to mvself.
When I handed the bottle back to him, I saw
that he had bared his head, and was steadily
■regarding the placid face on the pillow.
“ Dead I” he said.
“ Murdered, Joyce.”
He lifted the lantern higher, and approached
■Jhe bed.
“ True. It’s a ghastly sight; no wonder it
upset you.”
“ Ay, but that’s not the worst,” I answered.
•—Let's go back, and I’ll tell you all.”
i He looked surprised, but his surprise was
nothing to the amazement that overcame him
yheu W 8 got outside, anal related what had
happened.
“ Strange I” he remarked. “ Why didn’t you
let me search the cottage before we left?”
“It would have been useless, Joyce. Who
ever the miscreant is, it is not likely he would
risk detection by stopping there longer than
he could help. We must hunt for him nearer
home.”
l. As I spoke, we arrived at a bend in the road,
and I noticed a light in the window of Cole’s
house.
“ Look,” said I; “ the farrier is up late to
night.”
He had heard us, and presently appeared at
the door. His face showed deep marks of care,
and the lines about his mouth were very no
ticeable. Perhaps he was suffering from over
fatigue, or had other matters to worry him of
Which we knew nothing. He listened quietly
to my account of the murder, and made no re
mark till I had finished. Then he eyed me
closely, and came a step nearer.
“Is there any one whom you suspect?” he
said.
“ No.”
“ Sad—very sad. Let us hope, Mr. Elder,
that you may be fortunate enough to discover
The criminal.’’
We thanked him, and walked on. I sat up
all night to write out my report of the case, and
fell asleep at last with the sunlight of the new
morning pouring into the room.
The inquest was held three days later at a
neighboring inn, known as the Spotted Dog,
and I was the first witness examined. On the
whole, I would rather not state my opinion of
the proceedings and if you ask me what a
■country inquest means, ! treat the question as
a dismal conundrum and give it up in despair.
There were the usual villagers in greasy smock
frocks; there was the usual old lady, who al
ways appears in her Sunday clothes on such
occasions; there were the wheelwright, the
blacksmith and the parish clerk, proud alike in
the consciousness that they were public officials
and not above the honor of doing their duty in
a noble and disinterested manner before the
ayes of their grateful countrymen. The coroner
was a iat, pompous man, who loved the sound
of his own voice and worried everybody to dis
traction at every stage of the inquiry. My in
terest was, however,. languidly stirred when
Cole stepped forward in hie turn. Bein CT sworn
the farrier declared that he had first heard from
me of the old man’s death and that he knew
absolutely nothing but what I had told him.
The upshot ot it all was that the jury returned
a verdict of “ Wiliul murder against some per
son or persons unknown,” and so the matter
ended.
Nothing occurred for some weeks afterward.
The future was unknown, the present was
monotony; so passed the weary hours. The
events of life are not evenly disiributed over
the whole ot its course, but come unexpectedly
as the advent of a ghost.'
Tho course of Time had not flowed peacefully
for Cole, either; he was changed in more ways
than one. The strangest thing about it was,
tbai.the.change was hard to describe ; it showed
ttuelf in a hundred little signs which a stranger
would scarcely notice, but which I could not, on
.’“interpret. At one period the curi-
i wdufif at "tilt about, eilsuit,
with his hands crossed behind him ; at another,
he would become fiercely irritable and grumble
in his room tor hours together.
This alternation between gloomy desponden
cy and wild excitement was certainly remark
able, and taken in connection with what I had
lately observed of him, it suggested to me one
plain explanation of the mystery—an explana
tion which I scouted at first, but ended by ac
cepting as a conclusion which it was impossible
to resist.
The farrier was mad.
I dare not say a word to my comrade, for it
might have been dangerous to trust him. Joyce
never knew why I persisted in keeping the
house-door locked, or why, contrary to my
usual habits, I carried a loaded pistol in my
pocket, and would not trust myself near Cole
when the night was closing in.
Another matter which occupied my thoughts
now and again, was the murder of Branwell.
As regards my conduct in that melancholy
business, my conscience was clear. I had done
all man could, within the narrow limits as
signed to me, to discover the miscreant who had
been in the cottage on that memorable occasion,
and had then so suddenly disappeared. If I
accepted the qpmmQn rumor ? f th' 9 village, he
was a convict from London, long since lost in
the byways of villainy from which he had
emerged ; but I preferred to believe that he was
some person who know liis victim and had de
liberately hunted him down. The murderer
was a robber as well.
“Soonqr or latgr we shall meet again,” I
thought, “ and then—'.
I had gone out one fine evening, and, tempted
by the beauty of the prospect, had walked some
distal;? 9 into the country before tho gathering
darkness warned melt was' getting late. Being
in no fifirry to return, I continued to stroll leis
urely on, wjian I suddenly discovered that I
was in a strings neighborhood of which I knew
nothing, and where there was no person of
whom 1 could ask my way.
More vexed with my own carelessness than
was, perhaps, altogether reasonable, I stopped,
and looked round in search of some familiar
landmark. There was a heavy mist prevailing
which made it difficult to see far, but it pres
ently cleared round me, and the moon shone
out brightly through a halo of fleecy clouds.
Having turned to the right, on the chance of
reaching the line, from which I had strayed, I
found myself in a lane which sloped away in
the distance. After following it for about a mile,
I climbed over a gate, and landed on the side of
a hill.
I started in astonishment. I was back in my
old quarters, and before me was the cottage of
the dead man.
Presently I discerned a human figure moving
rapidly along, but when I looked again it had
disappeared. Almost disposed to think that my
fancy had deceived me, I was hesitating what to
do next, when I saw the cottage window lit up
from within.
I hurried across, and as I got near I heard a
strange noise, followed by a sound like the
chinking of money. Then came a shout, and a
hoarse laugh rang harsh and loud on the damp
night air.
I crept to the window and looked in.
The first object that met my view was Cole.
He was sitting on the bed. A trap-door, of the
existence of which I had been ignorant, was
open at his feet, and on the table beside him
were a number of bank-notes, and a quanitity
of silver and gold. Sovereigns and shillings
were tumbled carelessly together, and ho was
thrusting hie hands among the coins, and let
ting them slip through his fingers with an ap
pearance of the highest relish. I drew back m
horror—silent, breathless, my blood curdling
in my veins as I beheld him.
He had never noticed my presence; he paid
no attention to anything but the money he was
gloating over—the money which was the price
ol a crime.
I withdrew a little way off, to regain my
breath and decide on my course of action. At
first I thought of summoning Joyce to assist
me, but my dread of what might happen to the
farrier in my absence induced me to abandon
the idea, and I ended by determining to arrest
him myself, single-handed, and unarmed. It
was a desperate task, but there wa» no help
for it.
Resolved on this, I took the pistol from my
pocket, and drew the charge. Next I removed
my coat, and rolled up my shirtsleeves to the
elbow. Then stealthily raising the latch of the
door, I threw it open.
As the farrier confronted mo, I saw an awful
look of consternation pass over his face; his
complexion turned to the hue of lead; his figure
grew rigid and motionless. At that moment I
pitied him from my soul.
“ William Cole,” said I, calmly, “ I arrest
you in the name of the law.”
(He staggered to his feet, and his lips
moved, though he said nothing. I kept my
back to the door, and walked boldly up to him.
There was a fierce glitter in his eyes as they
stared into mine. He seemed quite passive,
but the instant he felt my hand on his shoulder
he shook it off, and, with a savage yell, sprang
straight at my throat. In another minute we
had closed, and were grappling together in
deadly conflict.
We were not unequally matched. In youth
and in freshness, I had the advantage over the
farrier, whom the suddenness of the surprise
had somewhat unnerved, and who seemed re- i
luctant at the outset to exert his whole force.
But this reluctance did not last long, and as his
irms tightened their embrace, I knew it would
he as much as I could do to overpower him.
His lean frame had an elasticity, his grip a firm
ness, that would hardly have been expected
Irom his appearance, and the fury of mad
ness trebled his strength. I would not strike <
him; I struggled as a wrestler to bring him to t
the ground. We rocked, and strained, and f
reeled till the floor shook under our weight, i
and the door and window rattled again. By 1
degrees I began to tire him, and to drive him 1
backward in the direction of the bed, when, 1
just as I was collecting my energies for a final 1
effort, my foot slipped and I fell heavily to the i
ground, «
In vain I tried to rise—l was held last and my i
position gave me no chance of releasing myself. I
Still I did not realize my actual peril till, writh- ’
ing quickly round, ho knelt upon me and I saw 1
in his hand along, bright knife.
Death. Well, even so. It was but dying
once and I was quit of it forever.
Suddenly, all in a second as it were, I heard :
the door creak—something dark whirled past
me like a cloud—there was the dull thud of a
blow and Cole, hurled across the room, struck ■
against the table with such rudeness that it
overturned and sent the coins spinning in
every direction. I got upon my feet unhurt, but
breathing quicker, and found myself face to face
with Joyce. I looked for the farrier—he was ly
ing senseless in the opposite corner.
“ A close shave indeed said my comrade,
with his old, easy gayety. “You never had such
a squeak for it in your life, Elder.”
I knew that as well as he did, and after thank
ing him warmly for his timely aid, I made him
acquainted with the startling events of the last
half hour. I will say nothing of the terms in
which Joyce expressed his opinion of my con
duct, almost wringing my hand off in the fervor
of his enthusiasm.
" Our duty now is to secure the farrier and
get him away as quietly as possible,” 1 said.
“ And the sooner the better.”
We searched the cupboard till we found a coil
of rope, with which we bound Cole hand and
foot before he was conscious of what was be
ing done to him. Before daybreak it was known
all over the country that the murderer of Bran
well had been discovered and was safe in our
custody. He was, however, acquitted at his
trial—the medical evidence proving, beyond the
possibility of doubt, that he was then insane
and had been insane for a long time. He died
a month later, having never once spoken a sin
gle word to any one after the verdict, which
consigned him to a mad-house tor the remainder
of his days.
AN ITINERANTJTARGAZER.
INTERESTING INTERVIEW WITH
A SINGULARCHARACTER.
A reporter of the Newark (N. J.) Call has in
terviewed one of those individuals who stand
on street corners with a telescope and allow
persons to view the planetary and stellar
worlds at ted cents each. The astronomer
said:
“I have traveled from Maine to Florida, and
from New York to California, with my glass.
I’ve been twenty-five years on the road, and I
know something about the business. All the
time I think that I have had the worst luck
imaginable. You see, we are not like other
amusement caterers, for star-gazing for ten
cents a peep is more amusement than anything
else. A Punch-and-Judy man can get up a big
extra attraction, and the “Uncle Tom’s Cabin ”
man can put on a dozen Topseys and half-a
dozen dogs and mules if he wants to, but we
have just got to wait for some natural attrac
tion, and when it does come we are not so sure
of getting in on it. I missed the two best things
lately. One was the solar eclipse and the other
was the transit of Venus. When the transit oc
curred I was out in Evansville, Indiana. I
planted my machine in a public square, and
had a crowd around me in less than no time,
but just as the show was about to begin the sky
became overcast with clouds, and the whole
exhibition was spoiled. I was dead broke and
knocked out. It was the same way with the
eclipse, and altogether I got a very cold deal.”
“ What is your glass worth ?”
“It is very expensive. One of the lens cost
one hundred dollars. This is a bona fide seven
ty-five diameter glass and no ‘ fake,” You can
bet on that, young man.”
“ ‘ Fake ?’ What do you mean by that ?”
“ Oh, I see you don’t know the tricks of the
trade. Well, I'll tell you. There are about
twenty of us astronomers of the peripatetic
school in the United States. We often meet and
exchange notes. Now, some of the profession
get to walking on their uppers, and if they
should lose their instruments they are in a de
plorable condition. Sometimes this happens,
and then they see about getting a new one, and
if they haven’t got the money to buy it they
make one. Sometimes an old tripod from a
theodolite can be found in a surveyor’s office,
and if it can, the astronomer is saved the trou
ble of making one. The fiext thing to do is to
get a piece of stovepipe the required length
and carefully wrap it with cord and paint it
black. No one can tell the difference between
it and a first-class shell. The next thing is to
get a piece of brass lor a sunshade to tit over
the stovepipe. A small toy telescope can be
purchased for a couple of dollars and fitted in
to the pipe with just the eye-piece protruding.
A neat cap of brass will close the lower end,
uud you have a gruat big instrument vuaj.
attracts attention everywhere And draws a pig
NEW YORK DISPATCH, OCTOBER 11, IW
crowd. The little telescope, of course, magni
fies to some extent, and as ninety per cent, of
the ten-cent customers have never looked
through a telescope before, they don’t know the
difference, and the other ten per cent.—well,
there are not many men who want the earth.
I’ll tell you how you can always catch tho
‘fakirs.’ They will* never look at the sun. It
requires a reflecting glass for that, and they
can’t put one on a cheap instrument.”
“ THE MOON FEAST.”
KITE-FLYING BY DAY AND !
NIGHT BY THE CHINESE.
- —— i
(From the Boston Herald.) i
Any one who, during the past few days, has >
had occasion to pass in the vicinity of or visit >
West Roxbury Park, must have been startled 1
at the sight which there met his gaze, when 1
looking in a heavenward direction, in the shape 1
ot weird-looking objects resembling large birds, ’
serpents, etc., etc., which apparently were float- >
ing in mid-air and emitting at the same time the
strangest of sounds.
A Herald reporter, while in tho vicinity yester- <
day afternoon, was so attracted, and, desiring to
fathom the mystery, concluded to investigate ’
the matter, the result being the discovery of a ’
score of Chinamen celebrating one of their 1
national feasts by kite-flying, according to one <
pf their ancient Being just in time, 1
the writer, together with a largo number of 1
others, anxiously watched the exertions of a 1
gpber-looking .Chinaman flying a kite. Instead <
of the movement requiring' two persons, as is 1
the custom with us, the Chinaman unrolled c
about ten feet of stout cord, and, throwing the J
kite into the air, he succeeded without help in e
finally flying the kite, letting out the cord slowly I
until it had reached the height of about 500 feet. J
The kites used yesterday were of various de- '
signs, one of them representing an eagle and
another a serpent, which, upon being sent into
the air, gave forth a peculiar buzzing sound,
caused by an accordeon-shaped bag through
which the wind rushed. J
The kites are composed of paper of different
colors, red being the predominant one. An ex
amination of the framework revealed a remark
ably neat piece of workmanship. The material 1
for the frame was bamboo. Small pieces were '
bent in the required shape, the design in ques- 1
tion being that of a bird, and neatly fastened 1
together. The frame was covered with red ’
paper, and the eyes, wings and feathers were >
painted black, the whole, when in use, floating 1
in a horizontal position, and being six feet from
tip to tip. The Chinamen evidently enjoyed the
fun as much as the small boys present. Kite- >
flying in China is indulged in to a great extent 1
by men of all ages. 1
The feast which is being celebrated at the ]
present time by the Chinese of Boston is what
is known as “Shung Goot,” or the “Moon 1
Feast,” in honor of the new moon, which in '
China at the present time is the fullest of the '
year. In China, the celebration of the ninth
moon of the ninth month, or, as it is called in
Chineee, “ Burt Goot Sip em,” commences upon
the 15th of September, and lasts about one
week, during which kite-flying upon an extensive :
scale is indulged in all over the land. The air 1
is filled with paper and silken birds, butterflies,
lizards, dragons, spectacles, fish, men, and, in
fact, every design imaginable. They are some
times described as resembling great birds or 1
serpents thirty feet in length ; at other times a
spectator will see a group of hawks hovering
around a centre, or all being suspended by one
strong cord, and each hawk kite controlled by
a separate line.
Many kites are often cut adrift, instead of be
ing pulled down, under the belief that as they
are floating off they will carry with them all im
pending disasters. Upon the approach of the
festival, owners of houses send out numerous
invitations to their friends to come and pay
them a visit, not forgetting the request that
kites be brought, in order to swell the display,
each house owner being anxious to rival that of
his neighbor in the number and character of
kites flown. Preparations are made days ahead,
and large sums are spent in buying and con- ■
structing kites, some of them costing as much
as $25 of our money. The day having arrived
with the guests, all repair to the housetop,
where the day is spent in flying and watching
the kites, or, as they are called, “ Shung Fee ” '
(moon kites).
Contrary to the custom in this country, dark
ness does not put a stop to the sport. When
the moon rises above the horizon the kites fol
low suit, each bearing as large a lantern as the
construction of the kite will allow. The sight
can well be imagined, myriads of colored lan
terns floating in the air at a great hight, and the
spectator has hard work to make up his mind
that he is not dreaming or in fairy land, while,
at the same time, the air resounds with music
peculiar to the Chinese. The Chinese, at home
as well as in this country, as a rule, are noted
for their sobriety and Industry, but whenever a
holiday occurs they are eager and ready to
spend their money in enjoying themselves. The
present celebration in Boston will continue for
a few days, during which “John ” will endeavor
to exhibit his kite-flying propensities as olten as
his condition and the state of the weather will
permit.
Ills LAST RESTING-PLACE. '
A Reminiscence of the Explosion of the *
Mau-of-War Westfield.
(Galvestion Cor. St. Louis Globe-Democrat.') t
Two miles and a half to the northward of this (
city lies a small sand islet, but a few feet above c
the ordinary tide, known as “Pelican Spit,” j
from the large number of those aquatic birds j
resorting there. The waters of the bay in this (
locality abound, with fish and it was for the pur- (
pose of playing angler that the reporter found j
himself one morning anchored in Bolivar Chan- ,
nel, a few hundred yards north of the “Spit” ]
and the ruins of the Bebel batteries upon it. ,
Noticing a huge mass of iron projecting a few
inches above the surface of the water and
marked by a “ tripod” to give passing vessels
warning oi the obstruction, inquiry was made of
the ex-naval officer, accompanying the party, as t
to what it was.
“That,” responded the gentleman, “is all
there is to mark the last resting-place of Com
modore Renshaw, of the United States navy,
who was in command ol the fleet when Galves
ton was recaptured by Magruder and the Rebels
on'the Ist ol January, 1863. On that morning
Magruder made a land attack with infantry and
artillery, which was supplemented with a naval
attack of “cotton-clad” gunboats under com
mand of Commodore Leon Smith, who after
ward was murdered by a drunken Indian in
Alaska. Magruder and his land forces were re
pulsed by the Federal fleet and were about to
retreat, when the “ cotton-clads” came down
the bay and carried the Harriet Lane by
boarding, alter nearly all her officers had been
killed. This piece of iron marks the spot where
the man-of-war Westfield, the flagship of Com
modore Renshaw, lay aground and unable to
move.
Finding the tide of battle had turned against
him, Commodore Renshaw signaled a retreat,
and removing his officers and men to the gun
boat “ Owasco,” applied a slow match to the
“Westfield’s” magazine, in order to prevent
her from falling into the hands of the victors.
Several moments elapsing and no explosion oc
curring, the commodore took Midshipman Zim
merman and a boat’s crow and returned to the
“ Westfield ” to see what the difficulty was.
Just after they got alongside and mounted the
ship’s deck a deafening explosion, which was
heard ior 100 miles, took place, and the air was
filled with fragments ol the ship and the ill
starred boat’s crew, not one of wnom was ever
seen again. That is now Renshaw died, and to
this day the place is Known as the “ Westfield.”
The Federal fleet then steamed out of the bay,
leaving the rebels in possession, and they in a
few days sent divers down into the wreck and
recovered a portion of the ship's armament of
9-inch Dahlgren shell guns, which they placed
in shore batteries, where they remained until
the close of the war.
“While Renshaw, the Federal commander,
expired amid the ruins of his ship and the de
feat of his forces, it was reserved for the victo
rious Magruder to end his days in indigence in
a Houston hotel; to have his inanimate clay
brought from that place to this city amid a
grand flourish of trumpets and the promise of a
magnificent monument, to be shoved into a pri
vate vault in the cemetery, where it remains to
day, unmatked, and only under the sufferance
of the owner—Michael Cahil—a Texan veteran.”
A FAMOUS CATHEDRAL.
AN ATTRACTION FOR TOURISTS TO
THE CITY OF ANGELS.
The famous Cathedral of Puebla de Los An
geles (the City of the Angels) in Mexico, once
one of the richest in the world, is still the great
attraction for tourists, though much of its pris
tine splendor disappeared wtih the decadence
of Papal power. Standing in the midst of ma
jestic cypresses and surrounded by a wide
stretch of marble pavement, one sees no evi
dence of the work of shadowy hands; but, on
the contrary, everything looks as substantial as
if designed ior eternity. The facade of the
northern entrance, writes a traveler to the San
Francisco Chronicle, is embellished with statues
and medallions in marble and the miter and
keys of the Pope. On the face of the western
tower is a fine old clock, made in Madrid more
than two centuries ago. The main entrance to
the cathedral is toward the west and here are
more statues in various niches, scores of sculp
tured saints and convoys of legloss cherubims
hovering about the slab which tells us that the
gloomy old pile was erected in 1664.
The immense marble-paved space surround
ing it is enclosed by a high, spear-pointed iron
fence, whose innumerable posts of massive
granite are all faced by bronze casts in bas-re
lief, and topped by angels with outstretched
wings—doubtless in memory of the heavenly
workmen who wrought by night on the cathe
dral walls. Though untold treasures, in the
way of gold, silver and precious stones, were
taken irom this church by the anti-Catholic
regime, it is still enormously rich in itself, for
the finest collection of marbles in the world en-
• ters into its construction. Perhaps the most
striking object is the great, high altar. It was
; erected in 1812 by one of the prelates of Puebla,
i and affords the greatest display of the beautiful
• Mexican onyx to be found anywhere in this
• Republic, which is famous for it. The infinite
> variety of tints is surprising—from rose color to
• Nile green, dark yellow and mahogany brown—
and among them all the most conspicuously
, beautiful is the pure white, transparent alabas
i i ici' irom the quawwa near PijQbJi,
baster lead to a circular plat.'orm elevated ten (
feet above the floor, beneath which the success
ive Bishops of Puebla are buried. This exquis
ite sepulchre is constructed entirely of the most
precious material, and is divided into niches
and panels, the whole covered with a dome of
transparent onyx, whose crystal-like clearness
is enhanced by trimmings Of bronze and gold.
From the centre of this wonderful canopy de- 1
pends a lamp ol solid silver, which is kept ior- <
ever burning. Above the altar, within the col- I
umns of the larger temple, is a small one, the 1
interior of which is displayed or concealed by *
secret machinery. Innumerable lamps and can- 1
delabra of gold and silver surround it, and 1
when the secret springs are touched the Host, i
kmid a blaze of jewels, is disclosed to the kneel- i
ing multitude. Opposite the front of the altar «-
is the choir, remarkable for the rich carving of i
its woodwork, and the stalls for canons and
clergy. Above the Bishop’s seat is a colossal (
picture of St. Peter, formed by the interlaying j
of different woods, the work so marvellously 1
well executed that one can scarcely believe it is *
not an oil painting. €
A little to the right of the altar may be found «
what was once the gem of the building—a life- t
size figure of the Virgin, dressed in richest em
broidered satin and literally loaded with jewels, i
Formerly the wealth of an empire was lavished 1
upon this figure, strings of the largest pearls J
hung from her neck below the knees, the golden 1
crown upon her head was set with emeralds as *
Iprge as robins’ eggs, and her waist was bound 0
with a blazing zone ot enormous diamonds, 8
while other gems were sewn all over her 1
draperies, sparkling upon her arms and fingers <
and in her hair, and filled the several silver 1
caskets standing within her shrine. Now the
jewel boxes are empty and many of the real 8
stones have been replaced by imitations in J
paste, yet this wooden Virgin is still more mag- *
nificent than any living queen in her corona- J
tion robes.
X BALL EXPERIENCE. ■
NOTE THE DIFFERENT STYLES, j
(Irom the San Francisco Post.) t
Let us imagine the experience of a pretty
young woman at a ball. We will imagine she is ]
an heiress, old enough to be difficult to please, *
young enough to make it some object to please ‘
tier. It is a point of honor with every maq in ‘
the room to prove his position or his attractive
ness by engaging as much of her attention as
is possible. {
Note the different styles. J
The secretary, bank clerk or young broker !■
makes his polite bow and engages her for a J
dance. He is deferential and sunny, talks j
about the weather, the music, the decorations, J
the park and lawn tennis. The beauty yawns (
behind her fan and says to herself, “An awful- ]
ly nice young fellow, and willing to please, but J
what a bore it all is at Lest I I must get rid of .
him alter this dance.”
Next a naval off cer comes rushing up.
“ You must give me this dance.”
“I don’t believe I can,” she says.
“Don’t crush a fellow completely. Never
mind these other men. You know that I am
desperately in love with you.”
“ But we only met last'evening.” ]
“No matter; I was desperately in love with
you last evening. You must not retuse me.
Come.”
And she danced with him. 1
“Decidedly,” she says to herself, “ there is
something out ot the common about this fellow.
I like his impudence.”
After that she dances with a succession of ;
well-to-do brokers, merchants, and manufao- 1
turers ; They pay her vague compliments — 1
compliments that are out at the elbows and bear 1
signs of hard and general use. Sometimes they
endeavor to interest her by retailing anecdotes, ;
tho gossip of the clubs and theatres. She list
ens pleasantly, but thinks to herself: How i
much alike are all these men, with their per
functory compliments and insufficient conversa- 1
tion. After all, I suppose they have no real 1
pleasure outside of wine, actresses, and so forth. 1
Perhaps they may be better in other spheres.
They are certainly far from entertaining to wo- 1
men of my world.
Perhaps a writer is next on the list—an author
of greater or less fame or a journalist of some ■
position. If he is a writer of much celebrity, he
may be haughty and commonplace, saving his
treasures of wit and fancy for publication, or la
boring under the delusion that non-literary peo
ple can only appreciate them when in print. If
he be a writer oi uncertain prestige, he may at
tempt to dazzle, reflecting with some severity
upon men who cannot write and have no share (
in forming public opinion. He casually relates
the honors he has received, and allows it to be
understood that, to a man of intellectual su
premacy, the conquest oi the female heart is an
everyday affair.
She submits politely, but says to herself:
“ Why is it that artists and writers think so
much of themselves and try so often to dazzle
you with their achievements?”
And the successful man? Well, the one who
really makes an impression may be of any call
ing, but he will have the tact and understand
ingcharacteristic of the lawyer and the doctor.
When he approaches the lady he will seem to be
thinking not of himself, but of her. He will
study her wants, her wishes, her convenience,
her comfort. He will ponder her gracefully, at
tentively, until he knows something about her,
and then ho will bo complimentary at the right
time, amusing at the right time, affectionate at
the right time. And at last she, finding him in
dispensable, will be moved to marry him. The
connoisseur who wants to win a clever woman
does not do so by showing himself off and mak
ing himself out a great fellow. He is too bright
ior that. He has learned by experience that his
own qualities matter very little. The first re
quisite is to develop a genial disposition in the
lady, the flame being fed by the fuel of intelli
gent appreciation, for you know, woman, like
burgundy, develops her generous qualities in a
warm, sympathetic atmosphere.
THE VALUE OF A WIG.
CURLY HAIR”AND WHITE HAIR
THE MOST VALUABLE.
The hair of which wigs are mads is collected
by special drummers in Germany and France.
England and Belgium are but poor markets lor
hair, not because of its scarcity, for both En
glish and Belgian women have the finest heads
of hair in the world, but because they will not
sell it.
When collected, it is put through a cleansing
process severe enough to letch the dirt out of
an elephant’s hide, and then dyed several times
over. The best hairdressers never buy hair
from the head or from private hands. To this
rule, however, there are two exceptions.
Perfectly white hair is so rare that it is
grabbed eagerly from any source, and a liberal
price given for it. Natural curling hair is also
of considerable value. A good wig of white
hair costs about S4O, and (this is a secret of the
trade and can only be told in whispers) the ma
terial of which these wigs are made is clipped
from the festive goat and never from the human
head.
A peculiarly soft, silky kind of snow-white
hair originates on the Angora rabbit. A per
fectly white and abundant wig of human hair
would cost SI,OOO at least, a price which few
would be willing to pay.
Dead hair—i. e., hair cut from the head after
death—is never used by any tonsorial artist
worthy of the name. Indeed, it cannot be used
to any advantage, as it will neither curl, twist,
nor manipulate. Hair cut from a living head
is not dead, a fact which can easily be proved by
taking a hair and stretching it out to its utmost
capacity. It will then contract quickly back to
its former position. It will live for a couple of
years or more after having been cut, and when
it dies, tho wig, front, or switch becomes limp,
rough, disheveled and useless.
HE PREFERS THE~Wi)ODS.
Simply Because He Was Shot at in a
Texas Hotel.
(From the Atlanta Constitution.)
“ I have been shot at during a whole night by
a gang of roughs,” volunteered a man with a
jewelry pack. “ I was traveling once near San
Antonio, Texas. I had met with good luck in
disposing of my wares, and was seeking civili
zation with a full pocket. Night came on, and
I was compelled to accept the shelter of a rough
looking frontier house of two stones. Within I
found six as villainous looking rascals as ever
out a throat. They proposed a game after a
while, and understanding their purpose, I saw
my safety lay in strategy. Taking the landlord
aside, I warned him that for whatever happened
I would hold him personally responsible, I
handed him fifty dollars and told him that I
should borrow that amount from him when
bantered to play again. The plan worked well,
and I soon had every cent staked during the
night, about $2,000. One by one, with ominous
scowls on their faces, the men passed out, and I
went up to bed. Soon I heard voices in the
room adjoining. I listened, and they were
plotting my murder.
“ ‘ His body lies on a line above -the window,’
said the leader. ‘By getting on the barn a shot
can be fired straight through him.’
“ Jnst then the moon ehone brightly through
the window, revealing the mark at which the
assassin would aim. Quietly slipping out of bed,
I arranged the covering so as to give the appear
ance of a body being beneath, and then stood be
side the door. The loud report of a revolver was
followed by the shattering of the window. Sim
ultaneously the other assassins burst through
the door to finish the work, while I quietly
slipped out and into the woods, where I re
mained until I had the protection of daylight.
The head ot the attacking party was none other
than the landlord himself. Since then I prefer
the woods to the rural Texas hotel.”
Cornered an Editor.—The following
story is told of James R. Randall, editor ot the
Augusta Chronicle: He attended one day a col
ored church in the country, and had in his
pocket a silver half-dollar, just the fare back to
Augusta. At the conclusion of his sermon the
minister ordered a collection for his benefit.
“Of course,” said be, “ I s’pects every pusson
i to give somethin’, but I's told dat Mr. Thomas,
i up de land yonder, had some turkeys stole Fri
i day night. I don’t want any man who had a
- han’ in stealin’ dem turkeys to put any money
r in de plate.” When the plate reached Mr. Ran-
I hall not a man had refused to contribute, and
the preacher’s eves were on him. His nalf-dol
w w pl* *
OTIEARNE AND THE PARROT.
W hat Brought Sorrow to the Soul of the
Handsome Property Clerk.
(From the New Orleans Chronicle.)
Johnny O’Hearne—he’s the little fellow with
the 7x9 countenance that has charge of the prop
erty-room at the Central Station—has been get
ting into another pickle. Somebody was heart
less enough to remark that he was quite fresh,
and getting pickled now and then wouldn’t hurt
him, but that was a spirit of jealousy that rank
led in the person’s breast, perhaps because he
wasn’t as pretty as John, ana it was just through
meanness that the same party remarked that
Johnny had either been sawed off and ham
mered down or was picked before he was ripe.
But that is neither here nor there; he’s a
good, clover fellow and can take care of more
junk than any two men in the town. He has a
place for everything, but the only trouble is he
never puts it there, and the motto, “A place for
everything, and everything out of place,” stares
a visitor in the face the very moment he enters
the Sanctum O’Hearne.
To the uninstructed it is as well to say that
it is O’Hearne’s business to take charge of all
property, stolen, found, or taken from prisoners
which falls into the hands of the police. He
has gotten along all right with these goods un
til Friday last, when the detectives captured
a very fine parrot which had been stolen from
a lady in the city, and this, like all other
property recovered, they turned over to Mr.
O’Hearne until its ownership should be deter
mined.
The trial came up on Saturday, and O’Hearne
and the other parrot were in court. Judge Da
voy said he didn’t think he could try the case
that day, whereupon the little property clerk
jumped to his feet and said :
“ Say, Judge, just a minute. I’d ask your
Honor if the milk of human kindness which cir
culates in your manly bosom has not all curdled
aud been churned into oleomargarine to have
that bird removed from the station.”
“Send for the Black Maria,” sung out the
parrot, which, by the way, was a most fluent
talßoir
“ There he goes, Judge. That’s him. He’s a
talker and don’t you forget it. He talks from
his bill to his tail feathers and it ain’t no use to
tell him to shut up. He understands everything
but that and it would take that pile-driver on
Canal street to make him tumble. Why, Judge,
I was talking to a friend of mine this morning, a
lady, by the way, and I had just told her how
hard I had to work, when this beastly bird cried
out: ‘ Oh, you give me a pain in my suspenders.’
How’s that for a bird, Judge, and I’ll bet two to
one he never wore suspenders in his life; why,
he ain’t got pants on? And then I can’t even
come into the room but what he shoots it to me
with ‘ Ah, there ! Just my size,’ or something
that.”
At this juncture the bird, who had evidently
been associating with some of the baseball fra
ternity, cocked its head on one side and said:
“That will do; three strikes and out”
“ Order in court I” shouted Judge Davey, and
Court Officer Shea quietly walked up and told
the bird if he didn’t cheese the racket he’d look
him up. He yelled it pretty loud and the parrot
replied:
“One bawl!”
Whereupon Shea seized the bird and threw
him toward the window, but the bird recovered,
and alighting back on his old perch, said :
“Fowl—not out!”
“Judge,” said O’Hearne, who by this time
had collared the floor again, “that bird knows
me, and he knows that I can organize s nine
that will knock the stuffin’ out of the Dudenhe
fer’s or any other man, and his remarks are per
sonal.”
“That will do, Mr. O’Hearne,” remarked the
Judge. “The case is continued until Monday.
In the meantime you will arrange a place iir
your junk shop for this bird.”
“Johnny, make room for your uncle I” shout
ed the parrot; and Johnny got a pair of tongs
and pulled the bird out amid the laughter of the
assembled crowd.
Then John sought out Chris. Cain, the little
detective, who could write a big book, entitled,
“What I don’t know about birds,” and Chris,
told him the best thing he could do was to get
his life insured and go off and die.
.*«****»**..****•*•
A vroman’B “No” ia not always to be relied
on as final. That was discovered by
A YOUNG MAN WHO DIDN'T INSIST.
She had a parcel, small and round,
One lovely afternoon last Summer,
I offered, as in duty bound,
To take it from her.
She thanked me with a gracious smile,
As sweet as rosy lips could make it;
It was so small, ’twas not worth while
To let me take it.
Again I offered, as before.
Of that slight burden to relieve her,
She’d rather not: “ Pray say no more I”
’Twould really grieve her.
I ceased to plead; she seemed content;
The thing was small, and neatly corded,
And so along our way we went
To where she boarded.
But when upon the stoop she stood,
And ere our last adieus were uttered,
She eyed me in a roguish mood,
And soitly muttered.
As swung the door to let her through,
And left me there all unresisting:
••I don’t think very much of you
For not insisting.”
The old man waa knocked clean out by his
wife, but he wouldn’t acknowledge that his ob
jections would work against boys, because
BOYS ARE DIFFERENT FROM GIRLS.
“She won’t do, Maria—she won’t do,” said the
man of the house, entering just in time to upset the
negotiations between the mistress and a new nur
serymaid,
“Why don’t you like her?
“She’s not young enough.”
“That’s just the reason I’m engaging her. She’s
not young.”
“That’s why I object.”
“Henry, what do you mean ?”
“ I want a young, pretty, bright girl, with a clean
white apron and a pretty cap.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose you do.”
“ You are wrong, my dear, Ido not mean that.”
“What?”
•• Your tone was significant. No. I have a the
ory. I think that children grow up a good deal like
the people who take care of them.”
“Oh, well,” and she began to cry, “I suppose
you don’t like to have your children grow up like
their mother.”
“My dear, don’t be ridiculous. I mean that they
get to speak and act like their nurses, and I wish
my children to have no mannerisms that will be
offensive."
“What kind of a nurse did you have, Henry ?”
“Madam," he said, rather confusedly, “I had a
colored nurse—but it doesn’t work with boys.”
No monopoly could get ahead of thia
PLUCKY WOMAN.
About twenty miles below Natchez we sighted
some object drifting with the current of the great
river, and after the captain had taken a look
through the glass he explained to the passengers:
“ That’s a scow loaded with hoop.poles for New
Orleans. She’s sprung a leak and is water-logged.”
Pretty soon we made out that such was the fact,
and further discovered that the crew, consisting of
a man and his wife, were still aboard. He was up to
his knees in water and using an oar to keep the
craft in the current, while the woman was on top of
a box in the center of the craft with her bare feet
hanging in the water. The raftsman signaled the
steamer to stop, and as she drifted near him he call
ed out:
“Captain, this is sad.”
“ Yes, very sad."
“ I want to git to Orleans.”
“ I see.”
“ How much to transfer my .cargo and take us all
down.”
“ A hundred dollars.”
“ Shoo 1 Wife, dye hear that ?”
“ I hear it. Offer him ten."
“ Captain, I’ll give ye ten dollars I” called the
man.
“ Umph ? A hundred is the least."
“ Then you may git up and hump and be off!"
shouted the women, as she swashed her feet about.
“ This old thing can’t sink any lower, and we’ve
got bread and pork and a euchre deck to kerry us
through !"
The steamer started, and as she got headway the
woman stood up and called after us:
“We ain’t purty, and our old box don’t go by
steam, but we’re just as good as anybody on this
earthh—and maybe a leetle better !"
Drake’s Traveller’s Magazine tells this story
of a bride who was
BATHED IN SADNESS.
The exact condition of the financial affairs of
Gideon S. Hickenlooper had been sedulously con
cealed from his only daughter Aurelia. The frying
of his only daughter’s matrimonial fish had been
left solely to the executive management of Mrs.
Hickenlooper, and, as Gideon S. Hickenlooper had
frequently remarked, his wife was “ a Jim dandy at
contrivance."
Among the delicately organized dudes and dry
goods butchers oi the Hickenlooper set the im
pression had somehow obtained that the old man
Hickenlooper was well fixed. Mrs. Hickenlooper
had arisen very early in the morning, and culti
tivated this idea until it had sunk deep, like a well
fed tap-root, into the fecund soil.
This word “fecund” is not original with me. It
was first sprung on the public by some of the Latin
racea _hippodrome races, probably. It has been ly
ing around ths house for some time, and, although
a trifle shop-worn, is still a good, healthy word.
The wedding of Miss Aurelia Hickenlooper was a
brilliant affair. That is, the wedding per se was
—the actual tying of the nuptial knot and the ante
nuptial ceremonies were brilliant, but, like a fire
works’ entertainment, they closed in gloom. The
wedding presents occupied the surface of a long
dining-table with all the extra leaves slid in, which
was placed in the front parlor and banked up with
tropical plants and hot.house magnificence brought
in from the conservatory.
Mr. and Mrs. Gideon S. Hickenlooper began pilot
ing people over in that direction to look at the lay
out, from the time the minister closed his solemn
adjuration to the blushing Aurelia and the nervous
Mr. Pipelayer, the groom.
After the intimate friends of the family, and a
couple of coteries of total strangers who had been
inveigled within through the personal influence of
the said intimate friends, had been allowed to feast
their eyes on the magnificent display of silverware,
book-marks, and Bohemian glasses, the bride and
groom gathered a crowd and swooped down on the
glittering constellation of gifts. It was then that
the new-made Mrs. Pipelayer made a discovery.
“What do you suppose this is ?” she exclaimed,
pulling a large white tnvelope out from behind a
calla-lily pot in the rear of the six elegant sets of
silverware, flanked by three gold-lined silver water
■ tanks.
“Mebbe it’s a check,” said the young Mr. P’ne
layor, suddenly shrinking
behind his more audacious bride, alarmed at his ex
hibition of undue haste to clutch some of old Gide
8. Hickenlooper’s reputed millions.
wouldn’t be one bit surprised if it were,’*
broke In one of the most enthusiastic bridesmaids;
"it’s *C heck for $100,000.”
“You v na y bo sure that’s what it is,** said a pale
young ma n * “It’s Mr. Hickenlooper’s personal
check for f©.’ 1 ? that amount It’s the thing, nowa
days, to leav 0 them among the wedding presents
and surprise IK 9 young couple.”
“I know it wit surprise you when you open it,”
said a second quivering with ill-con
cealed impatience.
“Mebbe it’s a deed £>r s house and lot,” advanced
a real-estate dealer; “I’ve heard of such things.”
And he winked, knowingly, though he were deep
in the secret and had, in factf, been a party to the
plot.
” Open it, please,” suggested another bridesmaid,
impatiently nudging Mrs. Pipelayer.
*'l—don’t—believe—-it’s—as—much as that,” said
the bride, growing pale; “but I really believe it’s
some—kind—of a—surprise.”
Here she broke the seal and everybody looked
over her fair white shoulders and read :
Gideon S. Hickenlooper, Dr.,
To Wackem & Stencil,
Wholesale Jewelers.
To rent of six sets of silverware and three ice
coolerssl3.oo
Any one in the place of Mr. Cruikshank would
have made a sudden departure on hearing that
HE WASN’T WANTED.
“ Tommy, is your sister Clarinda in ?”
*’ Mebby she is and mebby she ain’t What’s
your name ?”
” Why do you ask ?”
” Waal, ye see, she said if Mr. Tompkins called
she’d be in, but if old Cruikshank came she’d be
out. Which be you ?”
Mr. Cruikshank departed.
©Thia darky was cute in his way of
MAKING WORK FOR HIMSELF.
“ Boss,” said a colored man to one of our citizens
yesterday, “dar’s a pig in yo’ well.”
” Well, why didn’t you get him out?”
“ Gaze I was afeerd I’d be ’rested fur tryin’ ter
steal de pig.”
” Well, what will you take to get the pig out ?”
” De job am wuff 'bout as much as the pig is.”
” All right, the pig’s yours if you got him out.”
" All right, boss. Golly,” he mused, as he went
out, ” wush I’d drove two pigs inter dat empty
well.”
SCINTILLATIONS.
The glad season of the year is almost
here when lovely woman preserves pretty much
everything excepting her equanimity.
“ Was Rome founded by Romeo ?” in
quired a pupil of the teacher. “No, my son,” re
plied the wise man; “it was Juliet who was found
dead by Romeo.”
A littls fellow in a primary school,
after he had correctly spelled the word “knife,”
asked the teacher the puzzling conundrum: “ But
what’s the ’k’ for?”
A Scotch piper was asked if he could
play “ Within a Mile of Edinboro Toon.” ” With in
a mile I” he exclaimed; “why, mon, I could play
within ten yards o’t.”
Mrs. Brown (in country post-office] —
“ Any letters for me this morning ?” Postmistress
—“Nothing but a postal card, Mrs. Brown. I see
your daughter expects to start for home next
week.”
“Yaas, sir, she’s seven-eighths Jer
sey, an’ ye may ask Squire Un’erwood, ur any of
’em round here, an’they’ll tell ye so.’.’ “Seven
eighths Jersey ? Well, what's the other eighth ?”
“ Why—eh—that’s cow* uv course.”
A lawyer, suspecting some one was
peeping through the keyhole of his office door, in
vestigated with a syringe filled with pepper-sauce,
and on going home found that his wife had been
splitting kindling wood, and that a chip had hit her
in the eye.
Music at home (in the country house)
—Herr Bemolski (by request)—” Ach, if your laty
ship shall graciously hermit, I shall play for you
my ronto antantino gabriccioso in F moll 1” Noble
hostess—” O, that will be very nice I I m afraid the
piano is not in first-rate order, by the-by. Our
tuner died a few years ago, and we’ve never been
able to find another/’
Uncle Jake (to his chums, as an illus
tration of the simplicity of a stage load of city folks
recently under his charge)—“Ez we turned Clag
gett’s bluff, about seven o’clock, the hull crowd
busted out in * Ohs I’ an’ ‘ Ahs 1’ an’ what d’ye s’pose
'twas all about ? Why, one of them common red
and yaller sunsets 1”
BASEBALL.
BASEBALL NOTES.
Louisville has released Joseph A. Miller and Joseph
Crotty.
Bob Barr is the best batting pitcher of the Eastern
League.
Foster will rank high among the American second
basemen.
Dave Rowe has been batting well since his rein
statement.
Hecker’s lame arm is responsible for Louisville’s
low position.
Wood, of the Detroits, is laid up by an attack of
rheumatism.
The Mets certainly wound up the season in a cred
itable manner.
Newark intends to hold on to phenomenal Smith
for next year, if possible.
Hoover is considered the best batter and base run
ner on'the National team.
Bob Barr, the pitcher of the Nationals of Washing
ton, was recently married.
The St. Louis champions opened and closed their
championship season with a defeat.
Pete Wood is being caught by Fred Wood, another
Canadian player, and brother to Pete.
The Ridgewoods and Metropolitans play at Ridge
wood Park to-day (Sunday) October 11th.
Caruthers is considered the best base runner of
any pitcher in the American Association,
Murray, recently released by the Louisville Ameri
can Club, has returned to his home in Boston.
The Washington Nationals are the only profes
sional team to escape a whitewash this season.
Dan O’Leary is resting at Detroit in excellent
health and as full of base ball wisdom as ever.
Conway, Serad and Wood, Buffalo’s young
pitchers, will be much sought after next season.
Blondie Purcell’s eye must be off the ball. Since
joining Boston his batting average has barely reach
ed .200.
Providence evidently intends to keep Radbourn
under suspension, even if not another game is won
this season.
The Mets were the only American club to size up
Ramsey’s delivery. The Athletics and Baltimores
were his pie.
Henry and Mappes, two of Baltimore’s new men,
lead that club’s batting, Sommers having dropped
to third place.
Johnston, of Boston, has already made his mark
in the League as a slugger, as he ranks among the
first dozen batsmen.
Barnie has engaged and released more men this
season than any other manager in either the League
or American Association.
The Brockton and Lawrence Clubs are wrangling
over their respective claims to the championship of
the New England League.
The interest in the Chicago-New York games was
so great in Chicago that the afternoon papers issued
extras to cover the result.
With the addition of another catcher the St. Louis
Browns will next year be composed of the men who
won the pennant this year.
W, F. Kraig, late of the Brooklyns. caught for the
Henrys in a ten-inning game, September 29th, in
Peru, 111. The local club won by 7to 6.
Foutz has been hit pretty freely this trip;
Caruthers has maintained his effectiveness, and
will lead the pitchers in general average.
If Ramsey will keep head-swelling down and profit
by the teachings of Managers Hart and Hecker, he
will be one of the reliable pitchers next season,
Lucas denies the fairy tale about Vo® der Ahe
owning the controlling stock in his club. He said
that Chris had not a dollar’s worth of the stock.
There was more excitement in baseball circles last
Winter than ever before in the dull season. Indi
cations now point to even livelier times this Win
ter.
The championship of the Eastern New England
League has been won bv the Brocktons. They are
to be tendered a reception at the close of the sea
son.
The American Association championship has not
yet fallen to the same club twice, and we don’t
think the St. Louis Browns will be able to retain it
next year,
And the monotonous rotation of the League
championship remains unbrokefi. Will any other
city beside Chicago, Boston and Providence ever
win the pennant ?
From our Washington exchanges we learn that
Manager Scanlon is entirely willing, nay anxious,
to bet that the Nationals will be in the American
Association next year.
Cleveland is anxious to be represented in the
American Association. At twenty-five cents it is
thought Cleveland would be a good town in an or
ganization like the American.
Bushong has good cause to be proud of his record
this season. His successful handling of both St.
Louis pitchers contributed not a little to their
effectiveness, and consequently to the gaining of the
pennant.
” Old man ” Matthews’s record this year is indeed
a good one, as out of thirty-eight championship
games he has pitched, thirty-one were victories.
He may be aging, but, like wine, he seems to im
prove with age.
Nineteen hundred dollars is said to be the lowest
salary paid on the St. Louis Browns’ team. Comis
ky’s salary is believed to be $3,000. This of course
would make him the highest salaried first baseman
in the profession.
’Tis said that Mulvey is making son?e pretension
to long-distance throwing and woiiid like td fest
himself against some of the cracks in this particu
lar. The questiofi is, now that Ed Crane has re
tired, who are the Cracks.
Several clubs are claiming that Brouthers will oc
cupy first base for them next season. Oh, yes, he
will occupy first base for all of them—when he
bangs their pitchers out of sight. They get it one
way if not the other, so be joyful.
Connor’s batting average is still away up—among
the 380’s. This average has been excelled but twice
in eight years‘in the League. In 1876 Barnes had
403, and in 1881 Anson had 399. The highest
averages in the other six years ranged frdm 352 to
379.
When the Syracuse Stars asked for the discharge
of Joe Hornung from the staff of New York State
League umpires, Joe must have cast a retrospective
glance somewhat ruefully at his many energetic
• of the past. He found out how it was
i jiims r H. ’
Augusta, Ga., claims Kilroy for next year. Mean*
time he has signed with Baltimore and the contract
has been approved. Barnie expected Kilroy to
pitch for him the balance of the season, but Kilroy
refused on the ground that his contract was for next
season only.
Notwithstanding Providence’s demoralized condi
tion, one and two hits per game appear in Hines’s
base-hit column as regular as clockwork. He and
Carroll, and occasionally Joe Start, do about all the
batting for Providence, and save the club's average
from the infantile.
Two men must have kicked themselves all over
their grounds last week when they read about
McCormick’s magnificent work for Chicago. Neither
Lucas nor Allen, of Providence, had any use for Maa
last Spring and the Chicagos only took him because*
they couldn't help themselves 1 .
Boston people are wondering where they are to
get the material for next year’s champion team
from. Johnston and Nash have strengthened the
team to some extent, but it is stiiTi a long way off
from hopeful competition With Chicago; New Yorlr
and, mayhap, Detroit or even Philadelphia.
All the baseball 4 clubs, rowing or boating clubs,
cricket, football athletic associations, bicycle;
quoit and handball clubs, and all other organiza
tions of that nature in St. Louis, have been invited
to take part in the parade and reception to be given
the St. Louis Americans on their return home.
Washingtonians are anxious to have the Nationa’s
play one or more games with the Chicagos, as they
are under the impression that the National could'
win. This belief is based on the ground that io
years past any club that represented WashiHgtos
has always boon singularly successful against the
Lake City club.
Tony Mullane made his reappearance in the pro
fessional arena October 4th, in Cincinnati, 0., pitch
ing for the home team against the St. Louis Browns.
He held the American champions down to three
scattering singles, but he was poorly supported,
and the result was a victory for St. Louis by a score
of sto 1. The tables were turned on the following
afternoon, when the Cincinnatis won by a score of
4 to 0.
The Chicago Club contains fewer “record players”
than any other club in the country, and that’s- one
important element of their wonderful success.- All
play for the success of the organization. In conse
quence, they take desperate chances that nino out
of ten players would hesitate to tackle for fear of
lowering their individual record. Like everybody
else, the boys have their “off days,” and must occa
sionally strike a streak of luck that sends them all
to pieces. But they have well earned the right to
play an occasional poor game.
The Newark Club defeated the Baltimores October
2d and 3d, by the respective scores of 5 to 1 and 4
to 0. J. Smith, the young Philadelphian, accom
plished a wonderful pitching feat in the second
game by retiring the Baltimores without a solitary
safe hit, the ball not being batted outside of the
diamond in nine innings. He struck out sixteen
men, and the two men who reached first base on
errors were immediately caught napping there by
him and put out, the Baltimores being thus retired
nine time in one-two-three order. Smith was then
publicly presented with a handsome gold watch and
chain.
Coleman, of the Athletics, in practising, recently
badly strained a ligament near the elbow. It was at
first feared that his injury would permanently dis
able him, but physicians now say that, with rest
and doctoring, he will be all right again. He is a
valuable man to the Athletics, particularly on ac
count of his fine batting qualities, and the club
will, in any event, retain and next season play him
at first bbse, where he will have little occasion to
throw. George Shaffer will occupy right field for
the balance of this season and next year also. Ha
strengthens the team, as he is a fine out-flelder, and
also a fine batter when in form.
Indigestion Cured!
I suffered for more than five years with indigestion,
scarcely able to retain the simplest food on my stomach.
The burning sensation was almost intolerable, and my
whole system was deranged. I was wakeful and could
not sleep and consequently more or less nervous all the
time. I declined in flesh, and suffered all the usual de
pression attendant upon thia terrible disease. In a word,
I was miserable. At last, failing to find relief in any
thing else, I commenced the use of Swift’s Specific. I
began to improve at once. The medicine toned up th©
stomach, strengthened the digestive organs, and soon all
that burning ceased, and I could retain food without dif
ficulty. Now my health is good, and I can eat anythin#
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cause there are hundreds suffering as I was, and I am
sure they can be as readily healed. Take the prescribed
dose after eating instead of before.
JAMES MANN, No. 14 Ivy street.
Atlanta, Ga., May 13,1885.
Free from Malaria.
In the Fall of 1884 I was taken with a case of malarial
fever, which prostrated me both in body and and mind.
I was drugged after the old fashion with mercury and
Other mineral mixtures, but with no good results. My
health was shattered and my energy gone. My legs and
feet would swell, and I had what everybody thought wal
dropsy. These symptoms alarmed me, and I was ready
to grasp at any remedy suggested. A friend advised me
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and I feel like a new man to-day. There never was a
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ty. It has wrought wonders for me. WILLIS JONES.
Leesburg, Lee Co,, Ga., March 11, 1885.
For sale by all druggists.
Treatise on Blood and Skin Diseases mailed free.
The Swift Specific Co., Drawer 3, Atlanta, Ga.
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7