Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 23 December 1883 — Page 3

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THE BELLS OF LYNN.

From the Temple Ear.

'"''Svhen ilie evp Is growing gray and the tide Is rolling tn, I sit au 1 look across tlie bay to the hosny town or Lynn,

And the fisher Jolks «rc near, But I wit, they never hear

The songs toe farlells make for nie, tue bonny bells of Lynn. The folks are chatting gay and I bear their marry *lln. Bat I i-'ok aii'l look across tlie bay to the f. taiy town of Lynn -s

He tolsl me to wait here Upon thpoid brown pier.

To wait nnd watch him coming wl,en the tide was rolling in. Oh, I sfft him palling strong' palling o'er the bay to me. And I hear his Jovial song and his merry fane I see

And now he's at the pier. My bonny love and dear!

And ht'y coming up the sea-washed steps with hands outstretched to me. Ob, my love, your cbeek is cold and your bunds are stark and thin! Oh, hear vou not the beils of old, the bonny bells of Lynn?

Oh, have you naught to say Upon our wedding day?

Love, hear you not the wedding bells across the Bay of Lynn? Oh, my lover, speak to me! and bold me fust, mine own! For I fear this rising sea and these winds and waves that moan!

But never a word he said I He is dead, my love is dead!

All me! ah me! did but dream, and I am all alone— Alone and old and gray, and the tide Is rolling in: But my heart's away, away, away, in the old graveyard at Lynn!

DUNLUCE CASTLE.

To-day from all thy ruined walls The flowers wave flags of truce For time has proven thy conqueror

And tamed thy strength, Dunluce! Lords af the Skerries'cruel rocks, Masters of sea and shore, Marauders in their clanking mall

Bide from thy gates no more. Thy dungeons are untenanted, Thy captives are set free The daisy, with sweet childish face,

Keeps watch across the sea. Thy balls are open to the sky, Thy revelry has ceased: The echoes of thy mirth have died

With flres that lit the feast. keepers of thy seerets old Flit through the wind and rain!

•fa-'-

What stern-faced ghosts have come by A night To visit thee again!

Grim fortress of the northern sea, thy power and pride Within thy undefended wall*

The folded sheep abide.

HILDA.

BY BERTHA M. CLAY, AUTHOR OF '.'DORA THORNE."

CHAPTER XVIII.

When Magdalen Hurst had sufficiently recovered from the painful remembrances of her past life, she spoke again. "Hived through it, Hilda," she said "death had no mercy for me. It took the yountr, the loved, and happy, but passed me by. "For nearlv six years I worked and saved, so that I might once more return to England. Then came a letter from aiy husband,—a cruel letter but it had no power to hurt me, for I was long past all pain. Ho told me his fortune WAS made, that ho had been wonderfully successful in the diggings, and now he was going home to spend his money, and resume the position he had forfeited in marrying me. H,e said if I applied to his solicitor in London, 1 should receive a yearly annuity that that would keep me from all want-or poverty. But I would not touch his money, Hilda,—I never answered his letter! "I paid for my journey home out oi my little store of savings. I went direct to London, thinking I might gain some information as to Lady Hutton. There I heard of her death and your marriage. I could not rest until I had seen you so I resolved to find my way to Bayneham—to look once more upon your face, and then I was indifferent as to what might come. "There was some more sorrow in store for me. I was walking downone of those grand side streets in London, where, they told me, the nobles of the land dwell. I saw my husband, looking young, handsome and dressed as he used to be when I saw him first at Brynmar. He was talking and laughing with three or four,, gentlemen. Hilda, uiy whole heart went out to him. I forgot his cruelty, his desertion—he was my lover. I saw no longer the side streets of London—1 was in Brynmar woods, and he, with love in his eyes and on his lips, was bv my side. Hardly knowing what I did, I cried, 'Stephen! do you not

"I forgot that my face had lost its beauty—that I was poor, ill-dressed, and faded. "He turned when I uttered Ins name a white, savage look came over his face when his eyes fell upon me. He bowed to his friends and walked hastily away to one of the large, grand mansions near. I followed him, not for money,

Hilda,—notbecause

the

he was

rich and prosperous,—but for the love of the handsome face that bad once smiled into mine for love of him who iad once loved me. followed him up the broad flight of step? the hall door opened, he entered, and I stood upon the threshold. 'Stephen,' I said, speak to me only one won!, and I will never trouble

y°"VJfr ft

ll answer, he called with a

loud voice, and a unm servant came at his summons. ... 'John,' said he to him, look at this woman that you

may

She

rememher her.

is an impostor who annoys me. If she comes here again shut the do_r in her face, or call a policeman to

•®'?PtTjg eves glistened as he spoke ere^ a hard, cold, cruel look upon face that hurt me even more than words. Ho neither spoke or looked at me, and I iiaver have seen him si "ice. I turned with trembling from my husband's liorne I do not remember how time Sd. I asked a servant who came From the house the name of its mas-

'Mr. Fulton,' ho replied and then Kianhen Hurst had knew that Stephen

judged m. right)*

Had/ He knew 1 should never cia.n

through lawr or just

ive

HiktR- .. did not servants were pusy, uyuv

from ^e. could

stricken

smites from

hisiia

aJv

y°^i'him

0 8

face, and hare"done these I not loved him! LveO laid down my affi

and shame

''vr„vwrt 55S."*»«•»«"

Hilda, caressing the white,

oa 11'iful face, prayed her to real. "I have little more to say, my darl-

,, jied Magdalen jHunst I

^Sr^il^ofodi^veryou now.

ealthj lady- i,O hould hear that were lfer ward, and see your face, '-f»mine in its vouth, he will claim

Avoid all chance of

if Vou can Ih*ve heard

oiirht f'ntnei to the dying It- has coroft ZtV. Sl sMtouW. for von, my from his "I must

bear

it, mother, patienUy, ss

vou have don?," said Laav Hilda. Then there fell upon them a deepand solemn silence. Death was his awful shadow cast an ashen the face of Magdalen Hurst,

an"jr'ids^^rliirg,"^te0wbi8pered,''if

therJe

««&SS

thinir- vhich puzzle u?4)Bre will W set right .a another worSK I WU' soon

know whymy life baa beea so sad and

'sorrowful." As the shadow fell more deeply and darkly, the golden bead of the young K«rl lay near where her mother's hand could touch the loved face Lady Hilda was not frightened she had seen death once before, and knew its power. All fear, all thought, was lost in the one great knowledge that she was with her own mother at last.

Hour after hour passed, and the shadow deepened there was no more words, for Magdalen Hurst's strength had failed her. XTntil sight and hearing were closed for this world, her eves were fixed upon the face of her child, and she listened to every word that fell from those pure young lips. But the grim presence stood- by her, she made one great effort. "If ever you see him, Hilda, she murmured, "tell him I forgave him and loved him and blessed him as died-"

And then the aching, weaned heart was at rest. Death left strange beautj on the white face the closed lips wore a smile as of one who had found peace. Warm tears fell from Lady Hilda's eyes as she crossed the white hands over the quiet breast, and smoothed the long veil of golden hair from the white brow. "Good-by, mother," she said, pressing her warm lips on the cold, dead fact* "Good-by. You were lost to me in life, anil found in death. You will sleep well until I join you."

Mrs. Paine came up when she heard the sick woman had ceased to suffer. "I am glad she sent for me," said Lady Hilda, in a cold, calm voice, that startled her as she spoke "she nursed me years ago, and I am her only friend."

Mrs. Paine saw nothing peculiar in that, but she wondered why Lady Hilda shuddered when strange hands began to touch the lifeless form. "Let some one come and stay with you," she said "I will arrange all the payments. Let the funeral take place on Tuesday, and let her be buried in the churchyard at Oulston. You can attend to it, I suppose

Mrs. Paine was eloquent in her protestations. "She has lodged with me for many months," she said, "but I do not know her name. What shall I say when I ask for the papers?"

A crimson flush covered Lady Hilda's face. Was she, her beautiful, deeply-wronged mother, to lie in a nameless grave? No, it could not be a plain stone might mark her grave, but those papers should bear no false name, let come what' might. "Her name was Magdalen Hurst," she replied, with quivering lips.

Lady Hilda knew it would not be possible for her to return to the cottage, if her vow and her secret were to be kept. She bent once more over the quiet dead face, and kissed the smiling cold lips. She looked her last at the mother she had known only in h9r dreams and in death then she went out, leaving the dead alone. In the same cold, tearless voice she gave her final orders to Mrs. Paine. "Let the funeral take place at two o'clock on Tuesday afternoon," she said. "I will see you again when it is all over."

Like one in a dream she left the cottage where here dead mother lay. The gray mist had become damper and thicker,—it seemed to infold her like a garment. Despite the cold and fog, when Lady Hilda reached one of the iron seats placed in the broad path, she sat down,—not to rest, but to collect her tboivghts. Her brain whirled, —it was impossible to arrange her ideas. She was stunned and dizzy. Could she have been dreaming? Last night, only a few hours ago, she was the brilliant queen of a brilliant throng, and admired, perfectly happy, without a cloud in her sky now she was sick with the weight of her own misery. Mingled with the grief she felt for her beautiful, mother's cruel fate, came the thought of what she was—the countess of Bayneham, wife of one of England's proudest earls, the bearer of a name great and illustrious, yet the child of shame and reproach, the daughter of a convicted felon, of an unprincipled man, whose cruelty had doomed her mother to sorrow and death. Through the thick mist she looked wildly up to. tlie gray sky *her little hands wereclasped in agony. "What have I done," she cried, "that I am punished so? I have done no wrong—why should it be? Why has the calm, still current of my life changed? Why, in my youth and happiness and innocence, has shame and sorrow sought me out?"

As she sat there in the first smart of her pain, Lady Hilda wished the mother who lay dead and at rest had never tried to change her lot. Had she been brought up to bear it, it would not have seemed so hard. What would Claud say if he knew it—and how was she to live with the secret burning and blistering her very life? she who had never hidden from him one thought. It was a heavy burden that the sins, the Borrows, and the caprices of others had laid on that fair drooping head.

What would the stately countess say ?—she, so proud of her stainless name and spotless race she who said so haughtily that the women of her family had ever been without reproach How that fair, proud face would whiten and quiver if she knew that her son's wife was a convict's daughter! Where would the shame and misery end? "They would send me from him," she said to heraelf, "and put another in my place."

With a sinking, humble heart, she owned to herself that it was all wrong. She, the convict's daughter, had no right to be the mistress of that proud home, wife to the noble, brave lord who ruled over it.

The golden head drooped more sadly. She was quite alons there was only the gray wintry sky above her head, and the thick mist around her. No sunshine mocked he with its light, no birds with their sons:. She knelt on the ground, and laid her head on the iron rails. In this, the hour of great sorrow and desolation, there was no human heart for her to trust 6he roust bear her sorrow alone and unaided. Lady Hilda wept as she bad never done before, and never did again. She wept fot her dead mother, for the vanished happiness of her own life, for the wreck of her hopes and love. Tears brought relief to her burning, bewildered brain. The cool wind refreshed her. She remembered the brilliant party who would soon be waiting for her,

It was then nearly eleven she had to walk home, and prepare to meet her husband. There was no time to lose she went through the park ith rapW steps. All was silent in the castle the servants were busy, bnt none of the

thera came to her mind strange,

a a a a

never understood before: of the father shall be visited upon the children, even to the third and fourth generation."

CHAPTER XIX.

"Ililde," cried Lord Bayneham, when he saw his wife, "what have you been doing? Late hours and dancing do not suit suit you. You are like a drooping lily this morning. I^okat Barbara—she is blooming like a rose."

Miss Earle smiled at her cousin, but looked anxiously at Lady Hilda. "I am afraid all this gaiety has been too much for vou," she said kindly. "You look verv ill. Rest to-day, and I will do all I can to Bupply your place.

Ladv Hilda was thankful for the respite, and gladly consented to return to her own room until dinner-time, when she would be obliged to appear among her guests. "Pauline tells me you went out early for a walk," said Lord Bayneham. "If I had known it you should not have a on "I did two things," she replied, trying to speak indifferently turning her fair starth face from him. "I went for a walk, and called to see a sick woman who has been lying ill for some time at the Fir cottage. Shg died while I was there." j» .l

though I love your charity, remember

you are not strong. It is seem that misery that ass made you ill today. Be good in moderation."

She looked at him wistfully how little he knew, how little he dreamed who it was she had been to see!

How little he thought the yonng wife whose comfort he was studying in that sumptuous room was a convict's daughter! If he knew it, surely he would send her from him and never see her more.

Lord Bayneham piled up soft downy cushions on the couch he lowered the blinds, and placed the pretty little stand by her side.

A vase of rare exotics stood upon it, filling the room with a summer breath of fragrance. "Shall I read to you now?" he asked. "Barbara and my mother can keep every one amused or would you like to be alone?" "Read to me, if you will be so kind, she replied, for she dreaded being alone again she knew thinking would almostbecome madness.

The young earl sat by her side unconscious'y one hand lingered on her golden hair, where lately her mother's dying hand had lain. He read in a soft, low voice. She drew his hand from her hair, and pressed it to her lips. She would have given the world, poor child, to have told him her secret. He looked so calm and strong even should lie send her from him, as unworthy of bis name, it would be better than the slow torture of suspense she must undergo but the vow made to her dying mother sealed her lips. Of a deeply religious and reverent nature, it seemed to her a sacrilege to dream of breaking it.

Wave after wave of thought rushed over her heart and mind while the softtona of her husband's voice sounded like a soothing melody in her ears. Wearied and tired, and exhausted by want of sleep and grief, the violet eyes closed gently, and Lady Hilda for a time forgot all her sorrows.

Lord Bayneham saw that she had fallen asleep he closed his book aud watched the fair young face he loved so well. Half an hour passed, and then a change came over the sleeper. He saw her lips quiver, while longdrawn sighs parted them then she started up, crying, "It was not my fault, Claud, I knew nothing of it. Do not send me away!" "My darling," said her husband, gently, "you are dreaming. What is the matter?" "I thought you were angry with me,' she said, confusedly. "Which shows how foolish dreams are," said Lord Bayneham "hillswill become valleys, and the seas turn into dry land, before that comes to pass."

Would nothing ever cause you to love me less?" she asked, wistfully. '•Nothing, my pretty blue bell, be replied "1 do not think I could love you more, and I am certain I shall never love you less. Now 1 will leave you. You will perhaps sleep, and I have to drive over to Laleham to-day."

He held her in" his arms before he went away, and kissed her pale, sweet face, murmuring words of love that filled her heart with [a pleasure that was keen pain.

If he knew," thought the poor girl "if he knew!" Until the dressing bell rang she lay quiet and motionless one might have thought her dead or asleep. Once Barbara Earle came in with a glass of rare old wine. She found her awake, but with a strange expression on her face. "Drink this, Hilda," said Miss Earle it is almost magical you will feei quite well after it.- Lady Bayneham asked me to bring it myself ."

She is very kind," said Hilda, wearily, the same sad thought running through her mind—"what would she say if she knew "Isanything wrong, Hilda?" asked Miss Earle, looking steadily at the fair, sad face "you are tired. But you seem to me more frightened than ill. Surely you have not seen any of the Bayneham ghosts. Claud firmly believes in them."

I shall be well soon," said Hilda, evasively, thinking, poor child, how truly Barbara spoke. She had seen the ghost of her youth and happiness •yio wonfler shsJ&CTfeCdTTaftdfra ao&t*5-

When she was once more left alone, Hilda tried hard to rouse herself from the bewildered state she had fallen into. "They will suspect me soon," she said, "unless 1 can recover myself:"

She thought, with a cold shudder of dread, what the consequences of detection must be. She did not care for ber husband's title, his rank, position, wealth lut she loved him, and without him life would be a burden she could not bear. Hilda inherited much of her mother's loving, constant nature.

Fear helped her. She chose her prettiest dress and rarest jewels. The golden hair was entwined with gleaming pearls. With the shining of jewels it was difficult to detect Lew pale and changed the lovely face was. Lord Bayneham was delighied to see his wife recovered he kept near her, and lavished delicate and loving attentions upon her. "My blue-bell was never intended for a hot-house," he said, laughingly and even Lady Bayneham had a kind word. "I have missed you very much all day," she said, touching the fair face gently with her proud lips "we must take more care of you, Hilda. You are not strong."

She sat at the head of that sumptuously appointed table, trying to talk and langli as others did but the whole time there was a strong impulse upon her, urging her to cry aloud that Bhe was an impostor, who had no place there—a convict's daughter, who ought never to have been an earl's wife. There were times when she had to bite her lips, or the words would have escaped her.

Outwardly she regained her composure, singing when desired moving and warming all hearts by the rich, passionate music of her voice, charming all eyes by ber smiling, sweet grace, while her thoughts were ever with the dead mother who lay in the Fir cottage. She could not leave home again atone. She sent money to Mrs. Paine but Lord Bayneham had taken alarm at the stats of her health, and was not willing to let her go out of his sight.

luo

to liave left the.rrooms.

she reached her own apartment iin-

revenge:, Sht have noticed. When she stood there, with name with ,.

handeomo (be game dreamlike feeling of unreali-

Tuesday morning came at last, when Magdalen Hurst was to be laid in her lonely grave, and Lady Hilda resolved to attend her funeral yet she found great difficulty in doing so.

Happily the morning was bright, the sun shone as though shedding a last blessing upon tlie broken-hearted woman who was never to see it more. Happily, too, the countess asked her son to drive her over to Graintou Hall, so that Hilda found the greater part of the day at her own disposal

It was a very poor funeral there was nothing to be seen save the hearers, and Mrs. Taine as chief mourner. No one noticed the lady the dark dress who knelt one of the pews and wept though her heart was breaking. There was no one to note how she stood some little distance from the grave, longing and wishing that she, too, could be at rest with he beautiful unhappy mother.

So they laid Magdalen Hurst to rest. Of all those who had loved her in her fair youth none were present. The sun shone brightly on her grave, as it had done on the bonny woods of Brynmar, when she met her fate, so many years ago.

Soon weeks afterward a plain gray stone rnaiked the spot. It bore no name she had wished it to be so but that lonely grave was watered with bitter tears, shed for her who, after life's fitful fever, was now at rest. [To be continued in (he Sunday Express]

The New York Commercial Advertises says the "country needs two revivals—one of trade and another of religion."

A recent storm melted the telephone lines between Waco and Hillsboro,

THE FIELD OP HONOR.

The First Duel Fought on the American Continent.—Some Noted Fatal Meetings Which Have Occurred in this

Country—The Cast om of Posting The history of dnelling in America ia replete with thrilling and heartrending chapters—and especially from 1700 until 1840—although public opinion in the United States has never sanctioned the custom to the extent that it has been countenanced in other countries. It is a curious fact, says a writer in the Alta California, that the modes of dealing with the evil in the United States and Europeans countries have been quite the reverse that while European rulers have made every effort—even to the dragging of wounded duellists from the field of action to places of execution—to suppress the murderous custom, theirsubjects have generally held it in high favor and that, while the people of the United States, with too few prominent exceptions to mention, have always deprecated duelling in all its forms, the laws of many of the states up to 1850 were not such as to make the practice criminal or odious, and a bill to prohibit the sending and accepting of challenges in the district of Columbia did not pass until 1838, and even then the Hon Thomas Clayton United States Senator from Delaware, while he maintained his abhorrence of the custom and believed dueling to be both illegal and immoral, claimed "that it was not of that class of crime which should subject offenders to the cells of a penitentiary and make them the associates of felons." Mr. Linn, a senator from Missouri, was aware that dueling was not defensible on principles of Christianity, and concluded by saying: "All the states have concurred in denouncing the practice of dueling as an evil in itself, and yet, have we not seen them through their legislatures or executives, stay the laws? From what I have seen, fighting is like marrying—the more barriers there are erected against it, the surer are the interested parties to come together." Mr. Preston, of South Carolina, who was also opposed to dueling, thought that the "severer the laws ttie more inefficient." Mr. Sevier, of Kansas, "did not believe in legislating against the custom." The great Clay, of Kentucky, declared that he would be happy to see the barbarous system abolished. "The man with a high sense of honor," said Mr. Clay, "and nice sensibility, when the question is whether he shall fight or have the finger of scorn pointed at him, is unable to resist, and few, verj' few, are found willing to adopt such an alternative. When public opinion is renovated and chastened by reason, religion and humanity, the practice of dueling will be discontinued. It is the office of Igislation, however, to do all it can to bring about this healthful state of the public mind and, though it might not altogether affect so desirable a result I have no doubt it will do much toward it, and I shall give my vote for the bill." And the bill was passed by 34 yeas 'and 1 nay (Sevier of Arkansas.)

There are few commonwealths in the American union in which dueling has been absolutely unknown even the little state of Rhode Island and her severer sister, Massachusetts, having been scenes of mortal combat, in which personal difficulties were forever settled upon bloody fields. It is a noteworthy fact, however, that the laws against the tyrannical custom have always been more rigorous and re--straining in the northern states than in the southern, although two of the most eminent American crusaders against the evil were Charles. Cotesworth Pinckney and Robert Barnwell Rhett, of South Carolina. It is the boast of Illinois that but one duel has ever been fought upon her soil—in which the challenged party (Alphonzo Stewart) was killed and the suT\Xm (William BettiLettJ hanged,: Tfio 'records of dueling the soitthern states, so far as the author has been able to reach them, shows that the custom has been most popularly adhered to in Virginia, South Carolina, Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana and Arkansas, although all of the other commonwealths in the southern cluster are more or less dotted with sanguinary, fields. There have been more fatal duels in California (fought according to the code duello, or some similar regulations) than in all of the other so-called northern states and between the years 1850 and 1860 more fatal encounters took place in the Golden state than elsewhere in the union during the same length of tiine- TT.

Two tragic events took place in Virginia and South Carolina early in the nineteenth century which had the effect of suppressing the custom in those states for a s'uort time, at least. In the former, near Richmond, there lived a notorious duelist named Powell, who purposely met and insulted an English traveler for having said that "the Virginians were of no use to the American Union, it requiring one-half of the people to keep the

ether

half in order." The remark

was made the subject of a national quarrel, and at last Powell challenged the audacious Briton to fight. The latter accepted the challenge, and secured another noted American duelist as his second, and went into training for the combat, which took place in a few days afterwards in the presence of large number of people, and in which Powell was killed at the first shot. At about the

Bame

-w

time there

a duelling society in Charleston,

S. C., where each member took precedence according to the number of persons he had killed or wounded in duels and about this time an old weather-beaten officer of the English navy arrived at Charleston to look after some property which had devolved upon him by right of marriage with a lady of that city, and soon after got into an altercation with the president of the duelling club, who challenged the strancer and was accepted. Early the following morning eight or ten gentlemen called upou the Englishman and informed him that the American was a "dead shot," and added that, although the members of the society were generally of the wealthy class, the organization was held in disrepute by the more respectable citizens, and that he would be held in no disesteem by declining to meet a professional duelist. The stranger replied that be was afraid of no duelist in the world that he had accepted the challenge in good faith, and proposed to meet his man. The parties accordingly met, and at the first fire the Englishman mortally wounded his antagonist, who, while lingering in great agony, called the ,n members of his club to his bedside j,j and requested them to disorganize, and as

to do all in their powelr to suppress the further encouragement of an atrocious custom, the practice of which had at iast brought him to his grave. The members carried out faithfully the dying request of their late comrade by disorganizing the day after the interment, and thus end«d the first aud lgst dueling society in the United States.

Yerv good authority may be given for the statement that the first real duel fought ia Anjericto Vc pi ace at Plymouth, Mass., on the loth of June, 1621,-between Edward Doty and Edward Leicester—two servants—both of whom fought with daggers and were wounded, one in th^ hand and the other in the leg. It was extremely fortunate for one, or perhaps for both of the participants, that neither was killed, and, in all probability, it was the veiy best thing that could have happened both of them that each sustained serious injury, for their meeting produced great excitement, not only on account of the outrage committed by them, but for the reason that the combatants were servants of gentlemen, and not "real gentlemen," therefore, themselves. Still, as both men sustained severe injuries, some sympathy was manifested for them, ana they

THE TEEEE HAUTE EXPRESS, STTNDAf MORNING, DECEMBER 23,1888.

were only sentenced to theyunishment of having their heads and fMt tied together and of lying thus Cor twentyfour hours without food- or drink, which sentence, however was suspended, after an hoar's goffering, at the intercession of their masters, and upon their own painful request and humble promise never again to startle the government ander which they lived by the commission of & similar outrage. Thus, the evil was "nipped in the bud," so to speak and it was not until after the close of the Revolutionary war that citizens of the United States met in mortal combat to any dangerous extent. The custom came into practice, however, nt the commencement of the

nineteenth

century, and raged to an alarming degree (especially among officers of the army and navv), until it was frowned upon by public opinion and in a measure prohibited by laws created for its abatement. During the war with Tripbli many fatal collisions took- -lace between American and English officers, land also in 1819 between American n^val officers and officers of the Britishjgarrison at Gibralter. During the civjj war in the United States there were^few or no hostile meetings among federal officers. Among the Confederates there were a number of fatal duds, the most conspicuous being that between General Marmaduke, of Missouri, and General Walker, of Georgi, in which tbe latter was slain. i-:

Undoubtedly the fourjmost noted fatal duels fought in the United States were those between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr, at Weehawken, (N. J.), July 11,1804 Stephen Decatur and James Barron,, at Tliadenaburg, (Md.), March 22,1620 Jonathan Cilley and William J. Graves, near the boundary line of Maryland and.the District of Columbia, February 24, 1830 and David Broderick and D. S.5Terry, near the Laguna de la Merced, about twelve miles from San Francisco, California, September 13,1859. All the challenged parties in these encounters were mortally wounded or killed aone of the others were injured, except Barron, who, though dangerously wounded, survived. The weapons used in three of these duels were pistols, while

Messrs. Cilley and Graves fought with rifles. Hamilton was a general in the army and Burr was vice-president of the United States Decatur and Barron were post captains of the navy Cilley and Graves were members-.of congress from Maine and Kentucky Broderick was a United States senator from California, and Terry was ex-chief-justice of the supreme court of the same state.

The allusion just made to the four most noted fatal meetings upon Ameriican soil is merely general, as tlie author will present elaborate and unimpassioned descriptions of these thrilling encounters in forthcoming papers, as well as of accounts of many other distinguished combats, a number of which "were settled with satisfaction to both parties" without7 tWe shedding of priceless blood. He'^pll also present descriptions of all, oi^giearly all, of the fatal American duds which have taken place since the opening of the nineteenth century, and of a great many of the most elaborated European combats and challenges, having spent much of his leisure time during the past twenty years in obtaining accurate and exciting information of this character. He has viBited the bloody campaign at Bladensburg and surveyed the spot upon which the noble Cilley fell he has viewed, from a western window of the Jumel mansion the well-known field of Weehawken, beyond the quiet Hudson, where the illustrious Hamilton received his mortal wound, and he is familiar with the bloody ground upon which the lamented Broderick madlv flung a chivalrous life away. He has examined the weapons used by Hamilton*-and Burr, Cilley and Graves, and Broderick and Terry, and has upon a nun|ber of occasions enjoyed, the hospitalities of the present owner and occupant of the old Decatur mansion in Washington, Gen. E. F. Beale.

There has been no strictly American code of honor, although a majority of the duels fought in the United States by gentlemen have been arranged and carried on according to rules and regulations promiscuously adopted from the code duello of foreigncojiiitries. ^PoatTitgf as" American conceit, and seems to have originated with Gen. James Wilkinson, U. S. A., whose challenge to John Randolph, member of congress from Virginia in 1807, was disdainfully declined by the haughty Virginian, who concluded his letter as follows: "In you, sir, I can recognize no right to hold me accountable for my public or private opinion of your character that would not subject me to an equal claim from Col. Burr or Sergt. Dunbaugh. I cannot descend to your level. This is my final answer." The audacious Wilkinson was not to be thus summarily disposed of, and he indignantly replied "I have received your letter of the 25th instant, by mail, in which you violate truth and honor to indulge the inherent malignity and rancor of your soul. On what level pray, sir, shall we find the wretch, who, to mask his cowardice, fabricates falsehoods, and heaps unprovoked insults upon unmerited injuries? You cannot descend to my level!—vain, equivocal thing! And yon believe this dastardly subterfuge will avail you, or that your lion'B skin will longer conceal your true character? Embrace the alternitive, still in reach, and ascend to the level of a gentleman, if possible, act like a man, if you can, and spare me the pain of publishing you to the world for an insolent, slanderous, prevaricating poltroon." No further action in the matter was taken by Randolph, and the next time congress assembled Gen. Wilkinson stuck up, or posted notices as follows, in all the taverns and street corners of the national capital:

HECTOR UNMASKED.—In justice to mv character, I denounce to the world John Randolph, a member of congress, as a prevaricating, base, caluminating scoundrel, poltroon and coward.

Posting became frequent in the United States after this episode, and it has been no uncommon thing to meet a card in a newspaper, or a notice in some public place, the declaration that "is an unprincipled villain and a coward." The author has witnessed many cases of this custom of posting in. New Orleans, Nashville and Savannah, and calls to his mind, while writing, a young gentleman of Lost Angeles, CaL, who posted a former friend, (with whom he had a disturbance at a party, aud subsequently sent him a challenge, which was unnoticed), "as a cur and a coward," and sat under the notice with a double-barrelled shotgun for seventeen hours.

At present all of the states and territories of the Union, either in their constitutions or laws, have rigid provisions against the giving or accepting challenges, acting as seconds, or in any way assisting those offenders. A majority of the states and territories prevejvt all such offenders from holding any office of profit, and quite a number of the states provide tor the disfrancisement of such offenders. In California, and in several other states, the act of "posting" and publishing persona for not fighting a due!, or for not sending or accepting a challenge to fight, or for the use of any reproachful language—verbal, written or printed—to or concerning persons for not sending or accepting a challenge to fight, or with intent to provoke a duel, is punishable by fine and imprisonment. There are also provisions for remedies by action for injuries arising from duelling in most of the states, and in a number there are laws providing that the survivor of a fatal duel—who may also be tried for murder—shall support the family of the deceased, either by aggregate compensation in damages to each member, or by a monthly, quarterly or annual allowance, to be determined by a court and the slayer is $130 liable for and mnst pay all debts of the person slain or permanently disabled

Articles 36 and 27 of section 1,342 Revised Statutes of the United States says: "No officer or soldier shall Bend a challenge to another officer or soldier to fight a duel, or accept a challenge so sent. Any officer who so offends shall be dismissed from the service. Any soldier who so Qf&nds

shall coffer such corporal punishment as a court martial may direct and all seconds or promoters of duels, and all carriers of challenges to fight duels, shall be deemed principals, and punished accordingly.

Article 8 of section 1,634 says: ''Such punishment as a court martial may adjudge may be inflicted on any person in the navy who sends or accepts a challenge to fight a duel, or acts as a second in a duel"

It will be seen by the foregoing that dnelling in the United States has been made not only as criminal and as odious as it seems possible to make the custom, but it is also made permanently expensive to survivors of fatal encounters, in many of the states, while its indulgence either as_ principals or seconds, forever prohibits such offenders from holding political or other

positions of profit—this last provision being, as United States Senator Grundy of Tennessee once declared, while condemning the practice, "severer punishment, in the eyes of some people, even than ten years' confinement in the penitentiary. Practically, public opinion firmly sustains the consolidated enactments for the suppression of duelling in the United States and, as an institution, it may be said to have ceased to exist in our beloved country notwithstanding the Cash Shannon duel in South Carolina in 1880, the Elam-Beirne meeting in Virginia in 1883, and the remarkable encounter in Louisiana between a soda-water-seller and a catfish-dealer of New Orleans only a few months ago, which was fought with rapiers, and lasted eighty-three minutes before either of the combatants drew blood.

WILD MAN OP NEW JERSEY.

He Does Not Sat or Drink and Lom f»*e Ice and Frost, New York 'World. "That poor fellow hasn't tasted food or drink of any sort in thirteen days," said Superintendent Jerolomen, of the Belleville, N. J., almshouse, yesterday afternoon, "and yet he appears to be growing stronger."

A queer looking man, short and squat, with pale face and great dark eyes, bushy whiskers and shaggy hair, was lying on the uncarpeted floor of a little roem in the almshouse while the superintendent was speaking. Slowly and with effort the man raised himself to a sitting posture, and then by the use of his hands pushed himself across the floor to a window, dragging his powerless legs after him. Upon his head rested a cleth saturated with ice water, which was dripping down his cheekB and falling upon his exposed bosom* A cold and frosty wind blew through the two open windows. The strange man chuckled and ejaculated when the wind blew fiercest and coldest. His language resembled the jabbering of a monkey. An attendant offered the poor wretch a glass of milk, a cup of coffee and two eggs, urging him to eat and drink. The man moved the attendant away, and growled in anger. "Several months ago," said the superintendent, "this man occasioned much alarm in Franklin township, which adjoins Belleville township. He was seen in the woods by different persons, and his strange appearance gave rise to the story that he was a wild man. Finally he was captured and brought hither. "He was given warm drink and substantial food," the superintendentwent on to say, "and for several weeks he ate heartily. Physicians tried to give Btrength to his helpless legs, but they failed. In his pocket was found a paper written in a strange kind of Polish or Russian language—a mixture of both, perhaps, and the paper was a passport. By it was learned that the mans name was Yoss, but we do not know whence he came or where he belongs. In the hope of curing him the authorities removed him to

St. Michael's

hospital, Newark, where skillful physicians and surgeans examined him in vain and pronounced him incurable. Ever since that he has refused to have a fire in the stove or a lamp in the ioom»„Hisjvindo,wa,musUifiLaDeu day and nignt, and he is only happy when the wind blows. He appears to be suffering from great internal heat. He appears to be stronger since he quit eating and drinking. It was just thirteen days since he positively refused to eat or drink. He sleeps soundly and his legs are recovering strength. A week ago he could not use them al all. Physicians are puzzled about his ailment. He does not appear to be paralyzed, and yet his legs are powerless. Nobody has yet come here who can understand his speech."

Leather Wall Paper.

New York Letter. I wonder if our fashionable "wall paper" is hereafter to be of leather? A part of William K. Vanderbilt's walls are hung with leather, as is one room of Henry Villard's new mansion. The walls of Victor Hugo's drawingroom, where I attended a reception in June, are hung with leather heavier than sole leather. It may have been tanned tiger skins, or the bark of a drove of young elephants. It was not arranged smoothly on the wall, but hung at will, in loose folds and heavy corrugations, as if it grew there and had just peeled off. I did not inquire, but very likely it represented the tanned trophies sent to the venerable poet by his admirers hunting in India and Africa. To return to the Chicago house I was speaking of. The library, also used as a parlor, opens off the hall in front. Directly opposite the door is a mantelpiece of purple darkstained cherry, with glass tile-facings of a sienna tone. The walls are treated a few shades darker than the wood work, so as to be a good background for pictures. The ceiling is a delicate blue, with an intricate stenciling of silver and kindred tints running over it. Immediately back of this is the dining-room, in mahogany and olive. The walls are simply treated, and the chimneypiece and buffet are the features of the apartment. This is not the largest house in Chicago or the most expensive by ccnsideable, but I suppose it is really the most artistic.

The Tonjfhest Brain on Record. New York Times. Charles Rheimer, a youth of 17, of No. 98 Sumter street, Brooklyn, can lay claim to the possession of the toughest brain recorded in the annals of surgery. A month ago he fired a bullet from a 22-caliber Smith & Wesson Beveral inches into the center of his reasoning faculties, where it still remains. He has fully recovered to all appearances, and has gone back to his work in this city. On Sunday morning, October 22, he discharged his revolver accidentally, the bullet entering his head just above the left ear. His brother found him clinging to the door-handle and bleeding profusely. Drs. Solon F. Bliss and J. Nehrbas were summoned, and found that the bullet had taken a downward course as near as possible through the very center of the cerebrum. The wound was probed to the depth of three inches without finding the bullet. The next day the probe found the ball at a depth'of six inches, 'ihe physiciansdid notcare to disturb the bullet, lest it should hasten death, which they regarded in any event as inevitable. There was little inflammation, and within two weeks the ball became encysted and the wound healed up. The patient has now apparently quite recovered, with unimpaired mental faculties. The physicians consider him out of danger. The' ease of young Rheimer, though phenomenal, is not altogether without precedent.

Arkansaw Traveller: "My best thoughts are. always the hardest to write," said a literary m*n. "Yes," repiled an acquaintance, "and they sre always the hardest to read."^

FANNY DAVKNPORTO PLAT.

The SWWM of ft Thoroughly American Article—Cell* Logan on "Fedora"— How the Play Was Secured—The Refinement of Realism. Oella Logan In New York World. "After Vtae Play."--Hamlet, Aet ill.

The dramatic season has thus early presented two reraarkable successes— that of Irving ut the Star and Miss Davenport as "Fedora." The triumph of the native American actress was all the more flattering that it was achieved side by side with that of an undeniably great English actor. And yet while the utmost praise has been bestowed apod the stage business and dramatic effectB of Irving's productions, but little notice was taken of the same points of excellence in "Fedora." True, the story of "Fedora runs on so quickly, and is so intensely wrought up to a thrilling climax, that there are few gaps in the dialogue and action, where subsidary scenic offects might be appropriately introduced without distracting the attention from the characters. Shakespeare's plays are heavy and slow in plot and action, and each and severally not only admit of but positively improved by scenic effects, while melodramas absolutely demand such adjuncts. Irving having made these plays ihe study of a lifetime, has seen the necessity of introducing such effects into all of them. Not less perfect, though less prominent is the attention to details in "Fedora," and with Btrcter accuracy to costume and adherence to custom is the play now presented than when originally performed in Paris.

There, in the first act, although the scene takes place in Russia, and mainly during a cold night, the French actors—even the officials who shonld be in uniform—wore thin frock coats.

Finding itimpossible to obtain plates of Russian costume in this country Miss Davenport sent to Russia for them, and in* order to correctly pronounce the names in the play she mastered at least the rudiments of the Russian language. It will be noti %a, perhaps, by some observant persons who witnessed "Fedora," that when the heroine in France receives a telegram that telegram is not a United States telegram, but a veritable French telegram, without an envelope, such as are in use in France. This telegram is loaned by Marcus Jacques, the jeweller, to Miss Davenport. It seems that if attention to detail could go no further than this, unless it be in reuiring the servants to knock at the oor befoie entering—the time-honor-ed stage custom being for every one to open the door without this Bmall courtesy, which is considered indispensible in real life. Miss Davenport gave "Fedora" twenty-six rehearsals and declares that in all her stage experience she was never so aided by a company—all intelligent enough to immediately grasp he ideas of stage business and the meaning of the author, and to ably interpret the characters.

It has so long been the custom for French dramatists to dispose of their lays to American managers only that was curious to learn how an actress could have obtained tliis wonderful play for her exclusive use—a play which ranks so far above the mere society drama that it may trully be called a great modern tragedy. Miss Davenport replied: "I had gone abroad for rest—if rest it might be called, where a day never passed but found me studying hard at my art, nor scarcely a nignt which was not passed at a theater observing the methods of foreign artists. I went also in search of aplay, and when in London Horace Wigan called upon me, desiring to arrange for the production of some plavs of which he had the disposal. They were popularly attributed to a Scotch nobleman, but were really by a lady who conceals her identity under the nom-de-plume of Ross Neil. I found them to be beautiful plays, but not exactly what I required, so hearing, quite by accident, that 'Fedora'

Ha to Jie jabt^ined for tha_IIiat«A tates I lost no time in trying to be the first applicant for its purchase. When I say I lost no time I mean that in fifteen minutes after I had been given the address of Sardou's agent in Paris, I had my traveling bag in my hand and was en route for the gay French capital. My hueband and myself arrived just in time to see the curtain go up on 'Fedora,' and I was more than cnarmed. Luckily I did not need an interpreter and could judge for myself of the merits of the play and of its suitability for American production. Early the next morning found us at the office of M. Meyer, Sardou's agent. I assure you I was pleased to find that I was known in France, for I had no idea that the fame of an American actress could travel so far—especially mine. Sardou, however, would not let me have the piece until he had inquired of the great original herself as to my ability, and Bernhardt replied that I was 'the only actress in America who could play the part.' That settled it Sardou closed immediately with me for its production. How delighted and how grateful I was to Mme. Bernhardt I leave you to imagine. Her kindness entirely disproves that women, especially artists, can never be generous and friendly to each other, for her unstinted praise won 'Fedora,' and consequently the greatest triumph of my life. The terms being agreed upon the translation was next in order. This I wished done by an American, but Sardou would not consent for the reason that he desired it made under his own direction, so that every line in that play has the sanction of the great playwright himself." "Is your portrayal of 'Fedora' modelled on that of Bernhardt?" "The stage business and points are necessarily the same, bnt mine is in nowise imitative of her 'Fedora.' She has an individuality of characterization all her own that I could no more imitate than I could be her. I will go further and say that in my opinion no one could imitate her. No, my conception is original with me, and I have studied the part so much, day and night, ever Bince last January, that often I quite forget my own identity in the part, and it seems as if I were not merely depicting the sufferings of a fictitious woman on the stage, but that I am the very woman herself, and so great is the strain on my imagination and nerves tbat when I finally fall and the curtain comes down I am BO often overwrought and exhausted that I feel almost as if I had in reality gone through the agonies of death." "Is it true that physicians have told you that from your simulation of the symptoms thev can tell what poison yon are supposed to have taken "It is true." "May I ask how you came to select a then unknown actor like Mr. Mantell for so important a role as that he sustains in'Fedora?'" "I considered certain physical requisites as indispensable to the portrayal of the part as artistic ability. I wanted a jeune •premier, who should be of tall and commanding height, handsome appearance, really young and enthusiastic about his aTt. In casting about in mv own mind as to where I should find such a juvenile actor I spoke of the matter to some London friends of mine. 'Why,' they said, 'Mr. Mantel ia the very man.' 'Where shall I find him 'Oh, easy he's in

America!' 'That's rather indefinite. Can you not locate him a little more precisely 'No but von can find him easily enough. He*s in America.' At first I thought that looking for a needle in a haystack was

trifling task compared to finding a man whose address comprised all 'America.' However, I set about it, and found him easily enough, as they said I should, and where they said, in America. Of his performance, I can only say it has more than satisfied my expectations—it has satisfied those of the cultivated and critical American public."

Of Miss Davenport's own performance it is late in the day to indulge in an analytic and exhaustive critit ism. Her rendition of "Fedora" is the outpome of her long experience 9? the.

l(l

£5

«fc» S-Jt

stage. It is the massing of her many theatrical gifts into one perfect enttmble. To this character she brings her ripened intellectuality, and all the concentrated powers of her womanhood, for, while still young, she is not a girl. If sbe were she could not play that part, she could not feel it, she would have no sympathy with it for, as Bernhardt herseii has said, it demands the portrayal of every emotion experiencea by woman. In personal appearance Mias Davenport is pre-em-inently suited to the assumption of this character. Tall and stately, noble in carriage and demeanor, graceful yet grand in gesticulation, lovely in feature and mobile in expression, Fanny Davenport looks every inch the great Russian princess, Fedora.

SIMULATING HYDROPHOBIA.

Cartons Discovery MM* by a Buffalo Physician. Bafl&lo Bpeolal.i --i

Some days since some of the newspapers announced a case of hydrophobia in the eastern part of this city. A son of Carl Pruefert, aged nine years, Baid to have been bitten by a dog about two months before, became sick, had spasms, was at times violent, foamed at the mouth, and barked like a dog. A doctor was called in wbo pronounced the case hydrophobia, and as it was generally believed to be such, much excitement arose in the neighborhood. Two young children of the family also became ill and showed symptoms similar to those mentioned. All the cases yielded to treatment, however, and the condition of the children has since improved. Dr. Meisberger, who had formerly been the family's physician, but had not attended the children on this occasion, was called, and after a careful examination, concluded that the cases were not hydrophobia at all.

Dr. Meisberger made the following statement to a reporter to-day: "I found the oldest boy sitting on a bench In a few minutes ho shut hi slid off the bench on

lis eyes and

to the floor and 1 their

began crawling around the floor on all fours, going at a rapid rate. He went up to the pantry door, and, I understand, wivnted some eggs, having been fed upon tliera for some time back. After a while he became exhausted «nd made a hoise something like the barki^K of a dog. When he stopped I took him on my lap, petted him a while, and then told him to quit his actions or I would give him a bard whipping. I finally gave him 10 cents and said if he would bebave himself he could have more. When he thought be was not watched he slyly looked at the money. After carefully noting his actions I came to the conclusion that the case was one of simulation, originating in St. Vitus' dance. The neighbors nad talked the matter into the child's head by their remarks, and be had quietly taiken advantage of it. That my theory was correct is proved by the fact that when I called there this morning all the children were behaving themselves perfectly well and had not shown any signs of hydrophobia since my first call. ,*

More Moorish Jealousy.

Qaligman's Messenger. Mr. A. G. Heaton, whose return to Paris we mentioned the other day, has in his studio the authentic portrait of a Moorish woman of the better class, and he is one of the few painters who ever induced a Moorish lady to take off her veil in the presence of a Frank. The ladies of Morocco would much rather pose for the nude, as a rule, than uncover their faces. As for their husbands, they would probably murder on the spot any artist who ventured to ask for the permission to portray their wives' features de vim. A striking example of this occurred to Heaton during his journey through Morocco. One of the grandees of tbe country, hearing of his skill as a portrait artist, sent for him and asked bim to paint the portrait of his favorite wife, whom he loved almost to mad-

...... ness, and whose lineaments he wished #.J»Ulfled. tOLioftJuSMm -ftr pieSra Vr lif' tSm otic iKtiJ IxJoitr at nn timn in trvmc to hfithe Re was willing to pay any price for the picture, if it was only a distant resemblance. Heaton said he should be but too happy to execute the order for the mere satisfaction of pleasing his influential patron. "Well, then, set to work at once," said the great man "lose no time, and as soon a« the portrait is finished bring it to me." "All right," said the artist "yon have only to bring the person to me and I will begin at once." '^What!" exclaimed the Moor, wrathfully, "yon have the presumption to desire to look at my wife?" "How can you expect me to paint a person I have never seen?" inquired Heaton in amazement. "Begone!" roared the jealous husband if I cannot have the portrait of my beloved without oflering to thy profane view I prefer renouncing forever the pleasure I bad promise myself." And that portrait was not painted.

Speakers of the House. Since the organization of congress in 1780 fbere nave been twenty-nine speakers of the house. Next to Kentucky Virginia has been represented the oftenest and the longest in the chair, furnishing four speakers, three of whom were re-elected. Massachusetts has also furnished four speakers, their terms aggregating ten years. Three speakers have been chosen from the Pensylvania and three from the Indiana delegation. Ohio has furnished but one speaker—Keifer.

The occupants of the chair who have served through three or more congresses, have been Nathaniel Macon, of North Carolina,three terms Henry Clay, of Kentucky, six terms Andrew Stevenson, oi Virginia, fonr terms Samuel J. Randall, ot Pennsylvania, thiee terms James G. Blaine, of Maine, three terms, and Schuyler Colfax, of Indiana, three terms. No speaker has ever been chosen from Illinois, or from any of the states beyond the Mississippi. The south has had tbe office oftener and for longer periods than the north. The first Republican to occupy tbe chair was Nathaniel P. Banks, of Massachusetts, who was elected in 1856, after a contest of two months, on the one hundred and thirty-third ballot

The speakership has seldom proved a Btepping-stone to anything higher. But one ex-speaker. .Tames K. Polk, has ever reached the White House. Colfax is the only one who has become vice president, and Blaine the only exspeaker who has filled a cabinet position. I

The Wily Wizard and the Mexicans. Kt Paso Times.

Taylor, tbe wizard, gave a show in the theater at Pass del Norte, the other night, in which he advertised to perform the most wonderful legerdemain tricks. The Mexicans turned out en masse to witness the performance. The receipts aggregated about $80 or £W), and then he walked upon the stageand addressed the audience in something like the following style: "Ladies and gentlemen, I appear before you tliiB evening as one of the most wonderful men now living. I will show you a trick to-night that will make you open vour eyes. It is called 'The Mystic Man or, the Disappearance.'" Here he brought out a large box, and placed it on the stage, and then proceeded: "I will now shut myself up in this box, and the trick is to find me." At this point the wizard entered the box and closed the lid. After waiting some time the audience became anxious to see the man, and as he did not appear, they proceeded to examine tho box, and lo and behold! there was no man in it! The box was so constructed that the man could escape from the rear, and this he had done, taking with him, in addition to the funds he had collected at the door, a coat containing $15, belonging to one of the men connected with the theater. That was the last seen o{ buq.

St?,,,' ,!»*f

Eminent Exploits of Emma Davis la Shropshire. London Post.

Those who entertain the belief that the spirits of the departed revisit this world for the purpose of playing grotesque tiricks will find no difficulty in accounting for the singular series of occurrences now reported from a small Shropshire village, and may even regard these manifestations as constitaing at the present moment a triumphant proof of the soundness of their opinions. The person with whom the strange events are associated is a young girl, Emma Davis, living with her parents at Weston Lullingfield, and described, on medical authority, as of highly nervous temperament, but not, apparently, of cunning disposition. Wherever this girl maybe, the surroundings appear to become occasion.ally animated. Flower-pots dance on the window sills and tables stroll about the room, clothes are torn and glass and china broken as they hang on the walls. When she attempts any domestic task the brush or bucket is torn from her hands, the house linen flies away to a distance and her boots usually accompany it. More serious missels are mysteriously flung from her fathers house, one visitant having been cut with a knife and another injured by a stone, and not unnaturally the whole district is alarmed and excited, while the investigations yet may fail to afford any solution of the marvels which have now, as alleged, continued for some weeks. Doctors and local magnates have been baffled the superstitious but somewhat illogical Salopians fancied that the invisible power might be awed or detected by the eve of the law. Accordingly a large body of Shropshire constabulary visited and inspected the place, and one of

Irving in Boston.

Boston Letter to the Springfield Republican. Henry Irving is having the brilliant audiences predicted for him. And be isfmaking that sort of impression which is defined as profound. The critics— the best of them—are not puzzled by him, or by his acting, as some think they are. On the contrary, they seem to estimate him very clearly. They pronounced him to be a great actor, honest, thorough, conscientious and devoted, a man of remarkable talent, but not a genius. The thoroughness of his work is the5 most satisfactory feature of it. Seldom do we see such perfection of workmanship, such infinite care for details. He is justly called "the greatest master of stage effect that the modern theater has ever known." In'hteactf ing his mannerisms are most marked, and his peculiar pronunciation the greatest blemish. On his Boston audiences he may well plume himself. They have been like those that Cable has attracted, and Matthew Arnold— the finest of Boston's productions in the way of popular audiences. -Cambridge has been as well represented as Boston in tbsm. And social Boston offers the ssme maiked courtesies to him that have teen proffered to tbe other leading men in the professions.

gentleman from Philadelphia came to Auatin, not long since, and had a commission from a lady to her brother, which he was anxious to carry out at once, "Where will I find Mr. wbo is in the grocery business?" he asked of an Austinite. "There are two brothers of that i:ame, both in the grocery business." was the reply. "Which do you w'i3h to see?" "I mean tlie one that has a sister in Philadelphia,"

number has since remain

ed on guard. But the unseen agent attending Emma Davis makes fun oi the policemen,causing fenders to move across the floor and obstruct his path, and books, cushions and other articles to fly around his head with terrible results, it may be assumed to his. professional dignity. Two centuries ago, instead of watching for some natural cause of such effects, b6 would probably have seized this girl of thirteen on the charge of witchcraft and Bhe might have shared the fate of other juvenile witches, the last of whom, burned for casting "spells" on the Throckmertons in Huntingdonshire, was considerably younger. There can be no doubt, after making due allowance for misrepresentation and exageration, that remarkable circumstances have occurred in connection with Emma Davies, and that Bhe belongs to the hysterical hy-per-sensitive class which has ib all centuries produced fasting girls, vision bachelors, mystic dreamers, and too often lunatics. Medical scientists declare that the peculiar condition of brain and nerve power which has unquestionably enabled such young women to perform wondrous feats of endurance, trickery, ingenuity, and simulation is present only for a few years, during which, howevor, they are scarcely responsible for the use made of it In the present instance the eccentric scheme seems more complicated and cleverly managed than that of the Bock-lane Ghost and numerous similar impostures, but there is little reason to doubt that it is wholly devised and performed by the girl herself. The idea that Bhe has accomplices in her home is rendered less probable by the fact that tbe manifestations were first shown at the farm-house where she was in service, and that they have appeared when she waB visiting neighbors. It is, moreover, noticeable that they curiously resemble the phenomena of the most advanced so-called spiritualism, in which movement this little maid servant in her abnormal state of mind might furnish a "celebrated medium." A far better fate would be her removal from the scene of her notoriety and speedy restoration, under medical care, to ordinary sense, when Bhe might return to Bhow if was more pitiable than blamable in alarming them. As in the cise of Joan of Arc, unnatural exultation may lead to great and noble ends, but almost invariably its utmost aim is self-torture or notoriety. While the old system of meeting such manifestations by punishment was obviously barbarous there may be well nigh as much cruelty in pampering and exciting them by exhibition and encouragement. In these days of general education it may be hoped that such cases as that in the Shropshire will soon be attributed to the right cause— mental disorder—and meanwhile that the proceedings around Emma Davies will not long remain remarkable ot^ unexplained. \Vjs^ Attributed to the Alaskan Volcano. San Francisco Call, Novembers.

A gentleman whoMs greatly interested in science, and who has given considerable attention to the subject of atmospheric phenomena, states that the recent peculiar sunsets are, without much doubt, due to the lato vol canic eruption in Alaska. Ashes from that eruption have been carried an over Japan and beyond, and similar coloring of the skies has been observed there. During the eruption in Java similar coloring was exhibited in different parts of the world and as far east as Panama. The beauty of many of the Italian sunsets are held to be due to ashes from volcanos and to dust frm the desert. Our own sunsets, therefore, are supposed to have been caused by the particles of ashes coming from tbe Alaskan volcano. These are carried in the upper currents of the air, and form, as it were, a canopy. In the ordinary position the sunlight passes through this stratum without producing a visible effect but when the light is below the stratum, as at sunrise or sunset, and the rays strike the under surface of the ash-la'den current, the solid particles form an extended reflecting surface. The sunlight is thus thrown feack upon the earth, and causes the beautiful sunsets which have been so much admired.