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JEANNE D'ARC THE RAGE
Maid of Orleans Replaces the Napoleonic Rage THE STORY OF HER TRIAL What She Endured and How She Died Prom tha runutcrlpt ot the Official Evidence Owned by the French Hiatorlcnl Society. Sixty Judges but No Lawyers After Trilby and Napoleon comes Joan •f Arc—all three products of France, and all three reigning In the world of fads In this, the end of the nineteenth century. The Joan >f Arc rage is not only In its Infancy, but .'iere is so much of the mys tical, the weird, the valorous, the timtd, and, above all, the tragic, to be delved into by the faddists that it promises to grow into greater proportions than the others. From present indications there will soon be an insatiable demand for everything extant with which the ■range French girl was associated. The gowns of Joan will hardly do for the fashionable woman to ape, as w as done THE VISION OF JEAN D'ARC, FROM THE FAMOUS PAINTING BY BASTIAN LE PAGE rTuring the Empire craze, for most of the time the girl was attired as a man, with sword, lance, spurs and shield, and when not curbed In the dress of war she wore a simple waist and shirt like the other peasant women of her time. It Is not generally known that'in the little hamlet of Domreny in Lorraine Is still standing the house in which Joan of Arc was born. The garden is still there in which she saw the vision com manding her to go forth and drive the invading foreigners from her land. Nearby is the little Church of St. Remi, in which she prayed as a child, was bap tized and confirmed an confessed to the priests. All the scenes of 450 years ago can be gone over there, for In many ways the obscure hamlet has been untouched by the vigorous hand of progress. It Is German now instead of French, as a result of the war of IS7O. Much that is fantastic and unreal has been written about the Maid of Orleans, and most of lt unsuccessfully, for the Historical society of France owns many official records of what transpired dur ing her time, and a patient examination of these give facts which are clearly be yond the pale of dispute. Of all these records the most interesting perhaps is one of five manuscript copies made of the evidence taken at the trial of Joan, at which she was condemned to die at the stake. The copy designed for the child of Henry V. and Catherine of France, the boy king of England, Is one In posses sion of the Historical society. This was Written in the French of 1430. Much of the original manuscript of the evidence written in tho trial room by the court reporter still exists in Paris. It shows that, while stenography did not exist In those days, the records of the ques tions and answers were as faithfully made as at the present day. The hamlet of Domreny was not French in the days of Joan, but the peo ple were Intensely French. The Invading King Henry V., by the battle of Agin court. had made an English dominion of a considerable portion of France, and a few years later controlled fully two thirds of the land, Including Paris. By that time France had ceased to be an independent power, and the French king. Charles VII. was too indolent or too cowardly to reassert his rights by the force of arms. THF TRIAL PLACE The trial of Joan took place in the Cas tle of Rouen, one tower of which is still standing. Her name was really Jehan nette Kommee. Her mother was named Ttommee, and In that time and country girls bore the surname of their mothers. Her father was a farm laborer named Jacques D'Arc. Usually the girl was spoken of Jeanne D'Arc. The maid of Orleans was taken pris oner on May :!4. H.'iu, under the walls of Complegne by French troops, fighting on the side of the English. For fifteen months prior to that she had led the French forces to many victories, yet at the time of the capture she was but 18 years old. Immediate preparations were made for her trial. It was the aim of her enemies to give her an ostensibly fair trail, but tn show that Instead of be ing the Inspired agent of heaven she was the wanton emissary of satan. Sixty no table leaders of the church were as signed as her judges. They were all Frenchmen, und many of them were honest in their purpose to judge her fairly. The little boy king of England was In the castle at Rouen at this time with his guardians. "When first captured she was confined in a grand chateau and treated with dig nity. She refused to lav aside the man's dress she wore, claiming that she first donned lt by divine command and could not replace It until so ordered from hea ven. The news reached her at length that she had been sold to the English and was about to be given un to them "I would rather die." she cried in despair. than be surrendered to the English l " „.n, R > !♦* n?ilS We, " J Bhe adde(J ' "that God Ttlll let those good people of Gompiegne per sh who have been and are so loy al to their Lord?" Some days of an gulsh passed. Then she took a desper ate resolution. "I could bear nno lon ger," she afterward said; and so, "rec ommending herself to Odd and our La dy," she sprang one night from the tower In which she was confined to the ground, a height of between sixty nnd seventy feet, it was her only chance, and It was a chance, for she was found the next morning lying at the foot of the tower, insensible, but with no bones broken and not seriously Injured. She soon revived and In three days was able to walk about. The English calmed their prey, and soon had her safe In the castle of Rouen. MANACLED AND CHAINED. Her new masters did not mean that she should escape. They assigned her a room in the first story of the castle, "up eight steps," placed two pair of shackles upon her legs and chained her night and day to a thick post. It was their policy to degrade as well as to keep her, and they accordingly gave her live gunrds of the lowest rank, three of whom were to be always in her room, night and day. nnd two outside. In this woeful plight, manacled, chained, watched, but not protected, by soldiers, with only a bed for all furniture, was she held cap tive for three months awaiting trial— (She who had until recently shone re splendent at the head of armies, and to whom mothers had held up their chil dren ns she passed through town, hop ing to Win for them the benediction of her smile. Her room bad three keys, one of which was kept by the Cardinal of Winchester, one by tho Inquisitor and the other by the manager of the trial; and yet almost any one who choose could enter her room, gaze upon her and even converse with her. The little king saw her. 1 At 8 oclock In the morning of Wed- nesday, February 2, 1431, the trlel be gan. She was charged with the crime of being "vehemently suspected of here sy." The Bishop of Beauvals presided, und of the sixty ecclesiastics summon ed forty-four were present. Three au thorized reporters were in their places, and there were some other clerks, con cealed by a curtain, who took notes for tin' special use of the Fnglish regent. There was a crowd of spectators, "a great tumult," In the chapel, and very ilttle order in the proceedings. No law yer or counselor was given her. A girl of eighteen or nineteen was pitted against the brightest and most learned minds of Europe, but the evenness of the combat did not affect her courage. HOW SHE DRESSED. Jeanne was brought into the court room, freed of her chains and allowed to sit. No official record was made of her appearance, but other contemporary writers described her in this way: "The hair cut round like that of young men. shirt, breeches, doublet with twenty points reaching to the knee, hat cover ing only the top of the head, boots and gaiters, with spurs, sword, daggers, cuirass, lance and other arms carried by soldiers." The trial opened by the bishop order ing her to swear to truthfully answer all questions put to her. "As to my father and mother," she said, "and what I did after setting out for France, I will swear willingly; but the revelations Which have come to me from Ood, to no one have I related or revealed them, ex cept alone to Charles, my king; and I shall not reveal them to you though you cut off my head, because I have received them by vision and by secret communi <ation, with injunction not to reveal them. Before eight days have passed I shall know If I am to reveal them to you." Tho bishop urged her again and again to take the oath Without conditions. She refused, and they were at length obliged CASTLE AT ROUEN AS IT LOOKED AT THE TIME OF THE TRIAL to yield the point and accept a limited oath. Upon her knees, with both hands placed upon a missal, she swore to ans wer truly whetever might be asked of her, so far as she could, concerning the common faith of Christians, but no more. Being then questioned concerning her name and early life, she answered: "In my own country I was called Jean ette; since I have been In France I have been called Jeanne. As to my surname I know nothing. I was born at the vil lage of Domreny, which makes one with the village of Greux. The principal church is at Greux. My father is named Jacques d'Arc; my mother Ysabelle. I was baptized in the church at Dompreny. One of my godmothers was named Ag nes, another Jeanne, a third Sibylle. One of my godfathers was Jean Lingue, an other Jean Varrey. I had several other godmothers, as I have heard my mother say. I was baptized, I believe, by Mes sire Jean Minet. I think he is still liv ing. I think I am about nineteen years of age. From my mother I learned my jLOS ANGELES HERALD: STJOTAT MOBNI3STG. JTTNTS 21, 1896. Pater, my Aye Maria and my Credo. I learned from my mother all that I be lieve." COURAGEOUS ON THE STAND. "Say your Pater," said the presiding bishop. "Hear me in confession and I will say lt for ysu willingly." Several times she was asked to say the Lord's Prayer, but she always replied: "No, I will not say my Pater for you un less you hear me In confession." "We will willingly give you," said the bishop, "one or two notable men who speak French; will you say your Pater to them?" "I shall not say lt," was the reply, "un less in confession." The session for the day closed after the defendant had complained bitterly of the irons ami shackles which bound her. The second day opened with the bishop asking her to take the oath with out conditions, but again she refused with determination. Jean Reaupere, a famed theologian, conducted the exam ination. "How old were you when you left your father's house?" "As to my use I cannot answer." "Did you learn any trade In your youth?" "Yes; T learned to spin and sew. In sewing and spinning I fear no woman in Houen. For fear of the English 1 left my father's house and went to the city of Neufchateau, In Lorraine, to the house of a woman named La Rousse, where I remained about fifteen days. While I was at my father's I assisted at the usual labors of the house. Every and, year I confessed to my own pastor, when he was engaged, to another priest with his permission. Sometimes, also— two or three times, I believe —I confessed ,to religious mendicants. This was at ! Neufchateau. At Faster I received the I sacrament of tin; Eucharist." "Did you receive the sacrament of ! the Eucharist at other festivals besides : Faster?" THE FIRST VISION "No matter. I was 13 years old when I had a voice from Ood, which called upon me to conduct myself well. The first time I heard that voice I was ter rified. It was noon, in summer, in my father's garden. 1 had not fasteil the evening before. I heard that voice at my right toward the church. I seldom heard It when it was not accompanied by a flash. This Hash came from tho same side as the voice. Usually it was very brilliant. Since I have been in France I have often heard that voice." The learned examiners paid much at tention to these visions. It was the weak point In tho armor of the defendant, and the records show that every littls while reference was made to It. In the trial the martini deeds of the Maid of Orleans were told in her own words, but to repeat them would be merely a rep etition of many chapters of the most thrilling history or France. The first trial day. after a holy day, was seized upon by the prosecution as a fitting time to force her to make dam aging statements about her visions. The evidence ran in this way: "What did the voice tell you last?" "I asked advice of it upon certain things which you asked me." "Did it give you that advice?" "Upon some points, yes; upon others you may ask me Information which I shall not give you, not having received permission. For if I should respond without permission, I should have no more voices to second mo. When I shall have permission from our Lord. I shall not fear to speak, because I shall have warrant so to do." "Was the voice which spoke to you that of an angel, of a saint, or of God directly?" at" I i Wft * the v " ico of st - Catherine and St. Margaret. Their heads were adorn ed with beautiful crowns, very rich and very precious. I have permission from our Lord to tell you so much. If you have any doubt of this, send to Poitiers where I was formerly interrogated " ' How did you know that they were saints How did you distinguish one from the other? "I know well that they were saints and easily distinguish one from the other." "How do you distinguish them - " 'By the salute which they make me Seven years have passed since they un dertook to guide me. I know them well because they have named themselves to SamI C fabH h er- tW ° C a d ltt the For the moment I shall tell you no more; I have not permission to reveal it. If you do not believe me, so to Pol tiers. There are some revelations which belong to the king of France, and not to you who Interrogate mp" "Are the two saints of the same age?" "I am not permitted to tell." "Did both speak at once, or one at a time?" "I have not permission to tell you; nevertheless I have always had counsel from both." "Which appeared to you first?" "I distinguished them one from the other. I knew how I did lt once, but I have forgotten. If I receive permission I will willingly tell you; It Is written In the record of Poitiers. I have received comfort also from St. Michael." "Which of those two apparitions came to you llrst?" "St. Michael." "Was it a long time ago that you heard the videe of St. Michael for the first time?" "I did not mention the voice of St. Mi chael; I told you that I had great com fort from him." "What was the first voice that came to you when you were about thirteen years of age?" "it was St. Michael. I saw him before my eyes; he was not alone, but was sur rounded by angels from heaven. 1 oidy came into France by the command of God." "Did you see St. Michael and those angels In a bodily form, and in reality?" "I saw them with the eyes of my body as well as 1 see you. When they left me I wept, and wished to be borne away with them." "In what form was St. Michael?" "You will have no other answer from me; I have not yet license to tell you." "What did St. Michael say to you that first time?" "You will have no answer today. My voices said to me, 'Answer boldly.' I told the king at once all that was re vealed to me, because that concerned him; but I have not yet permission to reveal to you all that St. Michael said to me. f should be, very glad if you bad a copy of that book which is at Poitiers if it please God." Finally at the end of the trial seventy charges were drawn up against her. These, for convenience sake, were sub sequently reduced to twelve. These charges were condensations of her own answer. One charge, for in stance, nas her claim that she was guided by Bt. Michael, St. Margaret and St. Catherine. Tin- University of Paris .summed up the matter by saying that if what she described did not occur she was a contumacious liar, if they did occur, she was a sorceress and a serv ant of the devil. This was another way of putting the modern proposition: "Heads I win; tails you lose." "She was beseeched to renounce her statements or suffer the pangs of the torture room, but she refused, on May 24th she was taken to tlie village cem etery and urged to abide by the ruling or the church militant and renounce her acts. If slu> refused, she was to be taken directly to tin- stake. Here, for the first time, she broke clown, crying: "1 am Willing to hold all that the church or dains, all that you judges shall say and pronounce." She was thereupon sen tenced to perpetual imprisonment. This was on Thursday afternoon. She bore her imprisonment Friday. Saturday and Sunday. On Monday she resumed her man's dress, and when tho bishops visit ed her she said: "All that 1 revoked and declared on the scaffold 1 did through fear of death. I prefer to die than endure longer the pain of im prisonment." The court was reassembled nnd in two days the child was sentenced to the stake. On 'Wednesday, May 30, 1131. sin was burned and died embracing a cross. Her ashes were thrown into the Seine. GRANTLAND GRIEVE. THE OLD-FASHIONED LAUNDRESS How clear to my sight are the shirts of my past clays. When mem ry recalls them so perfect and fair, That in ver went through any steam laun dry fast ways. But hung bleaching and drying in purely fresh air. The edgi s unfrayed, as they danced in the daylight. The buttonholes fracture-loss, free from ail rent. The tubs with the bubbles presenting a gay sight, Ami c'en the stout laundress that over them bent— The old-fashioned laundress, the home ki eping laundress, The singing old laundress that over them bent. That old-fiishioned laundress was surely a treasure, , John Chinaman then was In distant Ca thay, And drugging machines used no shirts at their pleasure. And chemicals then ate no linen awnv. How deftly she turned them and rubbed them and scrubbed them. And put them in boilers with honest in tent. And when with her strong arms she gently had wrung them We knew that the shirts needed no for eign scent— The old-fashioned laundress, the home keeping laundress. The singing old laundress that over them bent. Then our a year and a day In their wearrng. The bosoms ne'er" cracked like a stiff. brittle board. And we put them on safe without fear of a tearing. And sung forth her praises In lofty ac cord. She never disappointed In whiteness or luster, Nor caused us in "cuss" words our feel ings to vent. And we gave her the best words our brain pan could muster. And said that from paradise sure she was sent— The old-fashioned laundress, the home keeping laundress, The singing old laundress that over them bent. —Boston Budget. THE LITTLE COUNTRY TOWN You may talk about your cities And your big brick buildings tall, And your elevated railroads And your factories groat and small But the "rural rooster" Hues up When it comes to counting joys, And the city chap's not In it With the homespun country boys. Although we have no railroads Our quick transit can't be beat. And when we want to travel Why—we get there with both feet; Our girls don't dress in bloomers, Nor the boys smoke coffin nails, And we do all our drinking From a spring that never falls. Yes, we know that life in the cities Is said to be all joy. And to mingle with thte busy world The hope of every country boy, But as years fly swiftly onward And the sands of life run down, The heart will turn in longing To that little country town. And again you'll see the cottage Nestling there among the trees. Anil the tinkling of the cowbells Will come floating on the breeze; And the sweetheart of your childhood Long been gathered home to God— And lies sleopin' 'neath the greensward Where the ox-eyed daisies nod— Will come to you in memory, As you saw her years ago. And again you'll hour the music Of the sweet voice,feoft and low; And as page anil page you are scanning, You'll liml a page turned down. Marked: "Some I. oving Recollections Of a Dear Old Country Town." —Hazel Green, Ky„ Herald. KISnET My time will come—l know not how, or why, or when, Early, or now, or late, or far, or near, but then, I feel that though I am apart or dwell at home. Or live, or die, the time, my time, will cornel The life In leaf and bud will start and stir, And cold, or heat, or rain, cannot defer. For everything its place must find, must take, must keep. And each to life will wake and each in death will sleep. So rise, my silent soul, thy spirit wings un fold. Turn to the light of morn or to the sunset* gold: In quiet ways lie down, or in the wild ways roam— Fret not my soul, for oh, thy time will come. I\f ATfV TMTtT.TVrt STTtVKT GENERAL GORDON TELLS STORIES OF THE WAR General John B. Gordon of Georgia, a tall, lean, mild-mannered man of lid, who hears on his left cheek a deep sear made by a Union mlnle ball, and who has such a rare gift of oratory that he makes an audience laugh and weep In turn, lec tured yesterday afternoon to the Chau tauqua assembly at Fairmont park on The Last Days of the Confederacy. The lecture hail been given by General ten - don not long ago in the Auditorium in this c ity, but a large crowd heard him yesterday. General Gordon entered the) Confed erate army a civilian captain in 1861; he came out a lieutenant-general, the suc cessor of Stonewall Jackson in Lee's councils, and the marshal of Jackson's famous old battalions. In hit tirst bat tle Gordon rode Into a "hornet's nest," where 372 out of H2S of his men were shot, and 84 out of 4t; officers were killed or wounded. Ills horse was shot under him and he came out with nine bullet boles In his uniform. The hottest cor ners of the fields of Malvern Hill, An tietam, Chancellorsvllle and Gettys burg, the deadly thicket at the Wilder ness, the "bloody angle" at Spottsyi vania, the rocky barricades at Cedar Creek, the trenches at Petersburg—Gor don was in them oil. sometimes a victim ami always the bravest of the brave, lb was carried from the "bloody lane" at Antlctam with a bullet through tin right forearm, another through the l it shoulder, a third through the left cheek bone and two through the right leg. A NATIONAL FRATERNITY PLEA. General Gordon said nothing about any of these things yesterday; he talk ed of the bravery of others, and above all bis lecture was a plea for the unity of the North und South. He began his lecture with these words: "Let mp say. before f begin this lec ture, that there .dan.is before you to day a Southern man and a Southern sol dier, but one an true as any in this broad republic: to that Hag." lie waved bis band toward the silken (lag which .Mrs M. Frnech-Sheldon had carried 2000 nul.'S into the heart of darkest Africa and which hung to the rafters at one stele of tit.' stage. "I am here to talk of war. but mv mes sage is one cjf peace and universal broth hood," continued General Gordon. Later in his lecture he said: "Let me ask you In the name of this great country which we all love that un broken friendships will bind together the hearts of all soldiers of both armies... Again he said: "It makes no differ ence which side won this or that battle. Thanks be to the God of our country, each victory is a monument to American valor." At another period in his lecture he said: "Every man killed in that war, as he turned his pale face toward heaven became a martyr—a martyr to the truth as he understood it. When the sun went clown upon the lost cause or Appomattox It lt.'t behind on both sides of the line a record of American valor that the lapse of time cannot obliterate." General Gordon closed his lecture with these words: "As the representative of all the Hying confederate soldiers, as their elected commander. I stand here today to say with you, my countrymen, that wherever that flag shall wine it shall be v protecting power to all Amer ican citizens in .-ill lands unci mi all oceans. Wherever political truth shall Unci a foothold that llag, the proudest emblem of political freedom, shall iloat the most potential emblem of human liberty." After the lecture the veterans of both armies, who had heard it, said to each other: "If we had more men like him there would be no more north or south at all." EXCELS AS A STORY TELLER General Gordon's equal as a story tell er was never heard on a Kansas City platform. He told yesterday of many amusing incidents of the war, and the audience roared so much with laughter that General Gordon had to stop and laugh with them. One story was of a prayer meeting held In one of the con federate regiments just: before the end of the war, when a soldier who had been all through It, prayed earnestly: "Oh, Lord, we're having a powerful big light, we so hope you'll take a proper view of this affair and give us the victory." Another story was when the half starved confederates were being fed on raw corn. General Gordon heard a ter rible groaning one night and went out to investigate. "Hello. Jake," he said, "what's the matter." "I eat too much corn, I guess." The next morning General Gordon met Jake and he took off his hat and said: "Well, general. I had a good feed of corn last night, and now if you'll give me a bale of hay I'll be all right." Another story was about how the hat less confederates at Richmond provided themselves with hats. Visitors were coming in by train loads to see the army. The soldiers would cut a bush and stand In line by tlie railroad track. As the train came slowly in a dozen soldiers would yell In tones of alarm: "Look out." Each man on the cars that could would stick his head out of the window, and a soldier holding the brush would brush off their hats as the train went by. General Gordon told several stories of eccentric General Ewell. He was standing near Gordon In battle when a bullet struck his leg with a thud. Swell paid no attention to it. "Why, general, weren't you hit?" ask ed Gordon. "Oh, yes, a bullet just went through my leg, but that's a small matter; I don't mind It." Genral Gordon found out later that Ewell had a wooden leg. TELLS HOW DEAD MEN MET The following incident of the war brought hundreds of handkerchiefs into play, but the story ended, after all, in a delightful laugh: "On the close of the first battle of Gettysburg I rode over that clover field made red by the blood-of both armies, and found a major general of the federal army. 1 had seen him fall. His face was'turned to the broiling sun. He had been shot through the spine and could not move. I gave him a drink from my canteen and asked his name. He said he was Major General Francis C. Har low of New York. He asked me to take from his side pocket a bundle of letters. They were from his wife. As his eyes rested upon them for perhaps the last time great tears ran down his face. " if you live through this war, sir,' he said to me, 'will you see that these letters are returned tn my wife, and tell her, sir, that you saw me fall, not In the rear, but at the front, and that my last words were that 1 gave my life freely to my country? My greatest grief is that I must die without seeing her dear face.' "Where is your wife," I asked. " 'She's back at General Meade's headquarters. She has followed me all through the war.' "This struck a chord of tender sym pathy in my breast, for my wife had followed me through all my campaigns, hovering on the verge of every battle like a protecting angel. I had tho Union major general carried to the rear, and when the guns ceased I sent a tlag of truce to Meade's headquarters with a message to his wife. I thought her husband dead then, but I was afraid to tell her so. I sent word that he was desperately wounded and a prisoner in my hands and that she would be given safe escort through my lines to her hus band's side. "The next day and the second day we fought desperately at Gettysburg, and then followed the retreat of Lee, and I thought no more of Barlow, except that I thought him dead. "Fifteen years after that bloody fight fortune placed me in the United States senate, and one day I was at a dinner in Washington at which a Mr. Harlow sat next to me. In the course of the dinner T n sited- "Are you related to the Major General Barlow who was killed at Gettysburg?" ! "'I am that man.' he said. 'Are you related to the General Gordon whoi ■ men killed me?" "I am that man," I replied. "The scene that followed could not be described. There we met. Barlow and I, both dead. I had left him for dead In the bloody clover; he had seen a nottoe In the newspapers of the death of J. B. Gordon, a cousin of mine, and he sun posed it was me. r.ut stranger still was the strong, the undying friendship that sprang up and exists, and will exist for all time, between Harlow and myself. May such friendships bind together the lv arts of all soldiers of each army.— Kansas (lity star. 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Pi-riaalologist, 4'l-4'.J Ueary street, San Fran- Cut It Out M p ' S—l m ake the finest, purest Face Powder—white, flesh and biased* ■ ,l_ w i* i I - 1 1 ill's, 50c a box. Some of Hy Articles Rlondine $Uoo Cucumber and Alder Flower Creme 75 Creaie de Pottdre, formerly Liquid Lnamel 75 Complexion Outfit for Bleaching the Skin and Refining the Pores 5.00 Dandrutfme 1.00 . _ i-S 1 H ~2 All the News ZZZZZ OP THE Presidential " Campaign .i. ■ 1. .ir OF 1596 < ' 1 "~ Will be given in the -- Los Angeles Herald — During this great political contest The Herald will make ____________ a leading feature, not only of daily campaign news and editorial comment, but in its , great Sunday editions will publish semi-historical illus trated articles of politics and 1 politicians, past and present. Every person who is inter- ested in the affairs of the nation, and wishes to keep informed on all matters relat- ing to conventions, candi- dates, etc., etc., should read 1 every issue of The Herald Subscription price, SO cents by carrier, city or country; $5.00 a year by mail. special, arriving at Cambridge station about 1:10 oclock. Be prepared with es cort and reception as far as time allow." Instantly everybody began tumbling over his fellow. The town clerk was sent for, and messages were dispatched to the vice-chancellor, the members of the corporation, the volunteer officers ana the cook of St. Peter's college kitchen. The vice-chancellor hurried on his robes, the aldermen und councilors did ditto, the volunteers donned their uniforms and the cook began to boil and fry. Nor wus tlie general public behind hand. Flags were hung out and crowds gathered in the street. Dr. Crookson, tlie vice-chancellor (Irreverently known in those days as "Dismal Jimmy"), made his way to the station as fast as his dig nity would permit.. The mayor, T. H. Naylor, and the corporation followed suit. A gourd of honor and carriages were in waiting, and soon everybody was there except tho shah. Then the news Hew around that the railway offl- I cials knew- nothing about the special 1 train, und, after a brief delay, lt was ! apparent that the whole thing was a ; hoax. The perpetrators of the hoax were never discovered, though two persona I w ere afterward freely mentioned In con i nection with lt—New York Journal. I By actual measurement of flftv skeletons the right arm and left leg have been found to be longer in tw.-nty-t lire.., the left arm ami right I' g in six. the limns on the right longer than those on the left in four, and I in the remainder the inequality of the limbs I was varied. Only seven out of seventy I skeletons measured, or 10 per cent, had 1 limbs of equal length.