Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 January 1884 — Page 10

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NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA. Recollections of One ol'tlte Emperor’s Guards —lncidents of His Life Upon tlie Island. Battle Creek Correspondence Detroit Post. Your correspondent to-dav paid a visit to Win. T. Palmer, who, so far as lie knows, is the last one living of the soldiers stationed on the Island of St. Helena at the time of Napoleon’s death. .The white-haired veteran, now grown quite deaf, had just returned home from a long walk to await the coming of friends to celebrate this, his eighty-fourth birthday. With evident satisfac tion he gave a narrative in substance as follows: At the age of eighteen lie enlisted in the British army, in England; in 1810 he was sent to St. Helena.""where he landed in August, after a voyage of four months. This island is ten and onehalf miles long by six and one-lialf broad, and, save a small arable plain at the top, is almost a solid rock. There were 3,000 troops on the island, one regiment to guard Napoleon being quartered at Longwood, on the heights, and another regiment remaining in the village of James town, five miles distant. These regiments changed quarters annually, probably through fear of their coming too much under the influence of the fallen Emperor. A man-of-war with seventyfour guns, cruised about the island, as additional security against escape. The regiment on the heights was divided into squads of fifty, which acted in turn as the special guards of Napoleon. During the day and until 9 o'clock in the evening these guards remained outside the house inclosure. but at that hour they moved inside and surrounded the house till daylight. This house was a story and a half, with wings to it, and had formerly been a farm dwelling. In 1820 the British government built him, a stone house; but he vowed he never would occupy it, and did not. Along with Napoleon the house was occupied by an English captain, the French field-marshal. General Bertrand, and liis wife, son and daughter, with some other members of Napoleon's personal staff and several servants. The soldiers did his gardening, but, says Mr. Palmer, I frequently saw him spading himself in a loose yellow coat. Many times! have watched him walking to and fro or standing in dee}) meditation, as though reflecting on the wonderful events of his life. Although he usually presented the face and manners of cheerfulness and of a resignation to his fate, yet a few times I observed him when he appeared to be in the very deeps of sorrow. An instance of this kind can never be erased from memory. I have a most vivid impression of seeing him one November day, toward evening, leaning against the side of the house, and gazing fixedly at apiece of paper upon the ground in profound sadness. Ever and anon he would pass his hand over his forehead, as though he would wipe out all reeol lection of the past, or as if realizing the vanity of all earthly glory. I learned afterward that on that day a British lieutenant, who, among other accomplishments, could speak and write French, had thrown in his way a translation which lie had made of the grave-digging scene in Sliakspeare's ‘•Hamlet.** and that stanza from Gray’s Elegy, which reads thus: The bou3t <>f heraldry, the pomp of power. And all that bcautv. all that wealth e’er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour; The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Governor Sir Hudson Lowe was very severe in his discipline for fear some gap might be left open by which the pri.-oner could escape. On the first Christmas day I was there Napoleon wanted to give a t hristmas dinner to all the soldiers in the guard regiment, but Governor Lowe would not permit it. It was said at the time that Napoleon, learning this, remarked with a sad smile playing over his face, “O, England! has it come to such a pass, that I cannot be allowed even to do good to my enemies?'* The guard was not permitted to hold any convolution with him. Sometimes, however, he would walk back and forth and exchange a few '‘.cords with soldiers who could reply in French. To one he said one day in passing, * ’Soldier, you and 1 both will one day serve as a meal for worms to feed upon.” To another, ‘‘Perform your duty faithfully in this woi*ld. and you may hope as much from the hereafter as Governor Lowe.’’ At the time quite a number of serious aud sportive remarks of his were current among the soldiers, who felt towards him a deep sympathy and a strong attraction. I heard it talked among the residents, who were of many nationalities, that Napoleon's friends planned his escape on a French snip, but neither the British officers nor soldiers took much stock in that. At the time of Napoleon’s death, at six in the evening on May 5, 1821, I was stationed in the village, and believe I was the first there to get the news, because I was on picket and the messenger had to give me the password. When I challenged he replied: “I have a good answer for you. old Napoleon is dead.” The messenger expressed the feeling of relief which prevailed among the British officers • specially. The death message was signaled to Governor Lowe by moans of flags. This kind of t degrnphing is done by raising a different flag for each letter in the alphabet. A salute of t venty one guns was fired, which was the highest salute fired upon the death of any British officer. Napoleon was buried in a place selected by himself four years before. On shipboard, coming home, in 1821, a comrade and myself composed a song, one stanza of which alludes to this incident, as follows: There is one thing more I say, And that le£ore I die. That down in Fox’s Valley My body it may lie, All underneath those willow trees. Where water is so pure; 1 chose the ground four years ago, Where I may lay secure.

“THIS BREA D-WINNERS.” A Just Criticism of a Novel Whose Author Is Wisely Anonymous. T. W. Hipginson. in The Woman’s Journal. “The Bread-Winners,” an anonymous novel in tlie Century, and one whieli seemed at first to promi.so something original and graphic, has come to a rather feeble and hurried end. and really adds nothing of value to our literature. But it gives another illustration of that essential vulgarity of tone which pervades so many novels and applies especially to the relations of the sexes. It is apt to be especially marked in those novels which undertake to paint society, as this does, by drawing an imaginary lino across it, half way up. and then attributing all the cardinal virtues to those who happen to Ik? above this line, and all the seven deadly sins to those below it. Dickens temporarily made an end of that sort of thing—and indeed went too far the other way—in the English novel. Perhaps we have yet to take our turn at it in America, and certainly “Tlie Bread-Winners” is a fair sample, to begin with. Tin* result is to be seen, as has been said, in a certain vulgarity of tone, not so evident in the coarser characters as in those announced and introduced as being finer. The hero, who poses for us as a type of all elevation and elegance, early awakens doubts as to his ••culture” by saying. “I wonder if I have mended matters any*’ (Century, August, p. 58:i); and he ends by establishing very serious doubts as to his gentlemanliness when he kisses a young girl of the poorer class in liis own conservatory, while he nevertheless despises her and is very much in love with somebody else. The plot finally turns upon the natural rage of the girl and the very well-founded jealousy of her lover; and really, on the whole, these humbler personages command quite as much of the readers respect as the superfine and fastidious Arthur Famham. This is not in the least what the author intends; but he brings it about, in spite of himself. But the most striking feature of the whole, I : mid say, is the immense inequality of the retribution dealt out. Maud Mntchin. the heroiue ir. at any rate, the main feminine performer —is a silly, half-educated, ambitious, novel-read-ing girl, with beauty enough to spoil a stronger had Arthur Famham. the hero, has had every advantage of society, hooks, and travel. Half charm* and with him and half with his siuroundi she throws herself into his arms to all intents and purposes, tells him *T love you/' but has. with all her faults, tho self-respect to say: -•if T am not to be your wife, I must never see you again. You know that, don't your With j iis accurate definition of her purpose, sho lays h r hand on liis shoulder: he frowns, slie turns ptde and sinks, and lie puts his arm round her. I lor beautiful eyes look into his like “the eyes of a vigorous infant*’— very vigorous. I should say—and it ends in h**r pitting up her lips to bis and his kissing her. *“FTe was entirely aware of the ridiculousness of bis position, hut he stooped and kissed her with hearty good-will.” When she inquires very iiatu jally, “You love me. do you not?” he answers molly, “I certainly do not”’—and then they are fortunately interrupted. I must confess that, from this moment of the jM.ory, my svmpatlues, at least, are with the young woman, nhe took him-for a gentleman, but had kctj vague ideas as to what a gentleman was.

He took himself for a gentleman, but was more more mistaken than she was. A little while after he is gazing into the eyes of another young woman, and ‘‘enjoying her eager ingenuous speech as much as her superb beauty.” At the end of the tale he marries the superb and ingenuous young girl, who, in the last scene holds out her hand and offers herself to him almost as unequivocally as poor Maud Matchin had done: and they are dismissed to bo happy ever after: while Maud and her true lover, Sam Sleeny. are only assigned to a miserable marriage, "where the woman brought into partnership the wreck of ignoble ambitions and the man the memory of a crime.” This, then, is the justice of novelists: be an ill-regulated schoolgirl and you will be justly punished for life. Be a handsome young man of fortune, exquisitely dressed, and your life shall be made blissful, though you may have acted like whkt our English cousins, in their vigorous vernacular, denominate a ‘•cad.’’ SERGEANT HATES. The Owner of the Talented Legs Traveling for Patriotism, Not for Pleasure. Atlanta Conetitutiou. “This is my son. Frank.” said this remarkable pedestrian, pointing to a bright-eyed, intelligentlooking lad. who was attired in a semi military costume. ‘‘Frank is my companion and carries the colors, you know." The reporter didn’t “know.” but ho said he did with such readiness that the Sergeant’s heart was won at once. “When did you reach Atlanta?** was the newspaper man’s first question. “Two o'clock. Frank and I walked all the way from the house of Mr. Barbour, just this side of Marietta. Mr. Barbour is an old ex-Confeder-hte. who invited us to spend Sunday night with him.’* “Did you count the cross-ties. V “No; we took the wagon road most of the way, and it was pretty muddy, too, although there were some sandy stretches.” “Sandy mud." interrupted Frank. “We’ve been seventy-three days out from Chicago, our starting point,” continued the sergeant, “but only sixty five days on the road. We started on October 15, walked 801 miles, and on the way I have addressed ninety-nine public meetings, speaking sometimes twice a day. “You made a similar trip shortly after the war?” “Yes, just so. I have made 1,958 addresses since 1877, and I have carried the national colors all over the South." “Had much fun?” “Fun! No. sir. My object is not fun.” The reporter, after a moment’s deep thought, candidly remarked that if the Sergeant was not after fun it was difficult to see why he spread himself all over the country, and made himself so universal. “I’ll explain,” said the veteran traveler. “My object is to promote moral and patriotic citizenship and national unity; to unite the best elements of North and South for the improvement and betterment of the worst.” “And you expect to do this by tramping about over the country?*’ “We are not walking for pleasure." was the reply, “but to reach and talk with more people. We carry the flag, not for notoriety, but to use in my public addresses, as experience North and South has demonstrated that the best way to an American citizen’s heart is through the flag of liis country.” At this juncture the office boy indulged in a faint attempt at applause, but was promptly suppressed. “How old are von, Sergeant?” “Forty-five. 1 was born in New York State, but reside now at Say brook, 111. I served in a Wisconsin regiment in the war.” “What was your original occupation?”. “I was raised a farmer, and have followed that occupation the greater part of my life.” In the course of his talk the Sergeant said that he intended to visit Florida, the Carolinas, and Virginia, reaching the North in time to speak during the presidential campaign. In the main he has been well received in the South, especially in Georgia. At Bell Buckle and Wart-race, Tenn., he was not so well treated, and met \vith some rudeness, because lie had been, lie thinks, misrepresented at those places. He believes that his trip will convince people at the North that Southern sentiment is pacific and loyal. It is liis desire to remain here a couple of days and to deliver a free lecture, taking up the usual collection to pay expenses. Bates has £ clean shaven, intelligent face, rather sharp-featured, but full of good nature. At first glance one would take him for a book agent or a phrenologist, but a closer scrutiny knocks the bottom out of every calculation, and the puzzled student of human nature gives it up. The old soldier and liis boy stand their tramp very well. In fact, the sergeant says tjliat his throat is in danger of wearing out long before his legs. Speaking of legs. Bates is justly proud of his. and he ought to be, for they have been the making of him. The heads of some men make them famous; the hands of others industriously lay the foundations of greatness, but it takes an exceptional pair of legs to carry a man to the topmost pin uaclo of notoriety. The gallant Sergeant, however, needs no introduction. As to his mission, it is enough to say that if lie is not doing the good lie claims, he does not appear to be doing any harm.

THIS DEADLIEST OF DRUGS. Some New Points on Prussic Acid and Its Powers* Cleveland Press Interview. “I will wager SI,OOO that it was not prussic acid,” said a medical man who had read .an article about the death of a cat from prussic acid, mentioned in the first edition of the Press. “What is prussic acid worth 1” was asked of the chemist at Strong, Cobb & Co.’s wholesale drug store. “We never sell it,” was the response. “It is not an article of commerce. Scheuer, the Swedish chemist, who discovered chlorine, Scheuer’s green, etc., was found dead in his laboratory, about which there lingered a peculiar, pungent smell. When one lias eaten a fresh peach and cracked the pit, he will get a faint odor that resembles prussic acid, although the smell of this acid is slightly sweeter. It can also be found in bitter almonds.” “Some housewives, in preserving peaches, add a few pits to the confection by way of improving the flavor. It may sound extravagant, but it is nevertheless a fact that the improvement of the condiment is due partly to prussic acid. It is in such minute quantities, however, that it is not injurious to health. Indeed, what is commonly called prussic acid is given ?is a medicine. It is really hydrocyanic acid, two parts of the acid to ninety-eight parts of water. S. M. Strong relates that when his father was very sick with pneumonia the doctors prescribed three drops of hydrocyanic acid. The sick man was liimsclf an excellent doctor, and he advised that the dose be increased to six drops. The attending physicians did not dare do it. The sick man died, and his friends entertained a lingering belief that be would have pulled through had tho doctors followed his advice.” Prussic acid is the most deadly of all poisons, and the fames would instantly kill the person who inhaled it. It is not known just what the symptoms attending the death arc, for the victim dies too suddenly to manifest any. There appears to be a sort of suffocation and a general paralysis. Hydrocyanic acid is sometimes taken internally with suicidal intent, and death is almost instantaneous, the blood biking up the acid wonderfully quick. It is colorless as water. A tragic story of a strange duel between a medical man and his rival in a beautiful New Orleans woman's affections, many years ago, is told. The medical man. who had the right to choose the weapons, selected the deadly poison before mentioned. Two pills were made, one harmless, the other containing enough poison to kill a dozen men. The dentists threw dice for the first choice of the pills. The medical man. pale but firm, swallowed one and his rival the other. For a moment each stood and glared at the other. 'Then the medical man saw his rival make a move, as if to place his hand on his heart, while a look of horror came over his face. The doctor turned away, unable to witness the terrible sight. Almost, before lie could turn on his heel his rival dropped dead. “My wife suffered from Rheumatism for months. She tried a number of medicines, but received littly or no benefit. She commenced taking Athlophoros three days ago, and I can safely say she has received more benefit from it than from all the medicines she has taken before.” J. Stephens, Hazel Green, Grant county, Wis. The universal verdict as to Athlophoros is that it cures where other remedies fail. What an amount of money might be saved if sufferers would go directly for this recognized specific.

TIIE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL, SATURDAY, JANUARY 5, 1884.

THE PERSIAN PASSION PLAY. Commemorating the Death of Hussein, Son of All, in Constantinople. Constantinople Correspondence Utica Herald. It has been my privilege to witness what travelers call the Persian Passion Play. The Persians claim that Ali, the son-in-law of the Prophet, was rightfully the immediate successor to the kaliphate. Upon the death of Hussein (one of the two sons of Ali) the Persians found their great religions festival, which occurs in and takes its name from the month of Moliarem in the Mohammedan year. Not only in their own country, but even here in Constantinople, they celebrate the day with a grief apparently as fresh and poignant as if the tragedy had occurred but yesterday. Dr. Ledyard, an American dentist, Haynes, and I, finding the date of the celebration was at hand, procured through our legation an introduction and recommendation to the Persian Embassador, who invited us to witness the procession and exercises under liis protection, Saturday last, the 11th of Moharem. At about half-past 4in the afternoon wo set out for Valideklian, in Stamboul, the place for the meeting and ceremonies. We passed the entrance and found the court packed. In the midst of a throng were two furled standards, behind which stood a horse covered with rich Persian shawls. Two long lines of men were drawn up facing each other at a distance of twelve feet apart in a space which was readily kept clear for them. There were .about two hundred, all with bare, shaven heads, their dress mainly a white garment extending from the neck—before and behind—down to the hips. They were barearmed and barefooted, and each held in his right hand a one-edged heavy-backed sabre three feet long and slightly curved, which he brandished backwards and forwards over his head. At last we reached the side opposite the entrance, where were the Persian grandees. The lower corridor was well and rather brilliantly lighted; divans or chairs were set in it. Persian emblems decorated the walls, and altogether the effect was pleasing. The Consul welcomed and gave us chairs, and we sat down until the ceremonies should commence. Ropes were stretched in front of us to define the- lino of march and at the same time to keep the mob away from us, a strong guard of soldiers, with fixed bayonet, standing in the ring. At intervals of about thirty feet all along the route of the procession, standards were fixed in the ground, supporting at a height of five or six feet, large receptacles of open iron work, filled and heaped with wood, to furnish light for the occasion. Men went around lighting the flambeax of which 1 have spoken. They blazed highly and brightly, making it. very easy to see with a good deal of distinctness what was going on in the court. Almost immediately after they had been lighted, wo heard the sound of what we knew to be the procession on its way. At first it was a chant that we heard, with a sound as of bare feet on the pavement, keeping time to the rhythm; then a voieo would rise high above the others, yet fine, clear, and pure in tone, as it soared rrp the other voices hushed, as did the sounds and noises around it. It was the recital in Eastern song of the harrowing story they commemorate, and sung by one whoso sole profession it is to touch the hearts of the listeners. The voice was beautifully musical, and it thrilled and quavered through the peculiar melody, while the dead silence around testified to its effects upon the people. When it ceased a great shout arose, as of some name or names uttered by all, and then the chanting and marching were resumed. It seemed a long time for them to come to a point near enough for us to see them. When they did come we saw first he two banners, then several men, naked to the waist, and each thrashing his own back with a branch of chains, which he wielded with all his might. After them came ahorse richly decked and bearing a little girl of some three or four years, absolutely swathed from head to foot in black. Black bands partly concealed her fair little face, and with her hands, which were free, she was throwing ashes over her head. She was followed by a long procession of men beating their bare breasts with their palms, some violently, and all groaning “Hassan, Hussein,” to this accompaniment. So they moved past us very slowly, only a few inches at a time, and we could sec that the regular beat, as of tramping feet, we had hoard at a distance, was really alone this body of men pounding their c hests. Three times the procession moved before us in the same order, and with the same characteristics as at first, though more rapidly and seemingly with greater numbers. At the fourth circuit of the khan, following the men with chains, whose backs looked black where they had been beaten, but who were working with the same energy as before, were three horses. The white trappings of the first wore sprinkled with blood. Upon its saddle stood two white doves, whoso plumage was dabbled with blood, and upon the pommel of tho saddle wore fastened two short, curved, naked sworils. The second also had bloody trappings, which were stuck full of long feathers, made to represent arrows. Then came the horse bearing the little girl. But after the breast-beaters who followed wo could at first see a gleam of white, and now and then a glitter of steel, and when they came near, 400 men with swords, and clad as I noted at first, the white almost covered with blood, which flowed freely from their heads, the swords brandished and bloody, the men howling like demons. Each clutched with his left hand the girdle of his companion, while he used the sword in his hand to hack away at his own head. it was an awful sight, and a weird one. The moon, half covered with clouds, peeping over the domes of the root on the opposite side, threw its light in upon the red firo-light of the torches in the great, dingy khan, with its crowd of frantic and gesticulating devotees, making one imagine ho had been suddenly changed to a being of another world. When they next passed us the torches were burning low from the charred wood, and an attendant, stepping up to the one opposite to us, poured oil upon it. As the glare of the flame leaped up, it showed men whoso heads were covered with fresh bloodclots, their breasts drenched with the streams from their wounds, yet cutting vehemently as they passed along. Some, so weak from t he loss of blood that they were fainting. held tightly to their neighbors’ girdles and pulled the whole line into confusion as they reeled about: others in a burst of frenzy rushed hither and thither until tbley wore seized and calmed down. Attendants mopped the blood from the faces of those whose eyes were blinded by it, and threw the soaked clothes upon tho ground. Others standing behind the line with sticks tried to prevent tho maddest from cutting themselves to death. I noticed ono man—the shape of whose head indicated more brutality than brain —become so wild that lie would have killed himself but for interference. When they had passed us they all left the court and paraded no more, but were succeeded by another band which the same spirit tortured and tore. Thus they went past us twice, with more howling, bleeding, and fainting, the last time headed by musicians, who increased their fervor by waikng flute notes and clashing cymbals. A horse, which bore upon the pommel of its empty saddle the green turban of its slain rider, another little child of Hussein, mounted like the first., and two horses with empty-cushioned saddles, were* added to impress u}oii all the fate of the unhappy house. But these swordsmen, like the first, just as they seemed at the. height of their fury, went out at tho same side door, a torch dropped in water. This was the close of the exercises, the procession of breast-beaters and back heaters dissolved, the European and Turkish guests retired, and their places were taken by melancholy, low-voiced Persians, who appeared to be musing over the events commemorated. Then tho beings who had so terribly mutilated themselves began to emerge from their hiding places, and cross the darkened court, their heads hound up in the once, white garments they had worn, and their faces covered with the gore that lmd dried upon them. Some of them could not walk alone, and had to be supported on each side, hut most of them clung to their swords as if they could not trust them out of their hands. After one of them had left his weapon in the hands of another friend and had gone away, we approached and asked him the price of his charge. “No,” he said, “I will not sell it. The sword has become sacred with blood of a believer; if you want swords buy them in tho bazars.” Terrors of the Spanish Language. Letter from Mexico. There are those who assert that this vowelly, soft-sounding Castilian is an easy language to learn, but they are generally those who never tried it. What with reciprocal pronouns, reflective verbs, preterite conjugation, backward construction, and genders that change every word in the sentence it is the most difficult language under the sun. The mistakes which tyros make are often too dreadful to be amusing. A friend

of mine in Monterey, who prides herself on having mastered Spanish quickly —and who is withal something of a coquette —desired to display her new -found knowledge for the further captivation of a handsome young officer. As he passed her window one day she. relied up her blue eyes at him in sentimental mood and meant to say “I am very lonesome” -yo estoy muy solitario: but what she did say, by merely changing the tense Os the verb and the final a into o, was “I have a tape-worm?" Not till long afterward did she learn her mistake and comprehend tho look of horror, not unmixed with compassion, which swept over his face as he precipitately took his leave, never to return. BAFFLED HOPES. Mr. and Mrs. Spoopendyke Indulge in Some Visions of the Wealth a Lottery Ticket Is to Bring. Brooklyn Eagle. “My dear,” said Mrs. Spoopendyke, who had for some time been intently studying a slip of a paper she held in both hands. “My dear, what do you suppose this is about?” “Let me see,” demanded Mr. Spoopendyke, snatching at the paper. “Why, it’s a lottery ticket! What peddler of sacred literature have you been patronizing now? Wbere’d you acquire possession of this monument to wealth T “I found it” fluttered Mrs. Spoopendyke, making a dive for it, as though the explanation of what it was made the slightest difference in its contents. “Is it really a lottery ticket? How much do we win?” “Well, if it draws a prize, and the expense of collection don’t eat up the amount and the lottery pays up, we won t he much out of pocket,” returned Mr. Spoopendyke, examining the ticket again. “And I’ll have my sealskin dolman, after all!” squealed Mrs. Spoopendyke, clapping her hands and peering over her husband’s shoulder at the mysterious document. “I wish they’d hurry up and send the money. When do you think they'll send it, dear?” “P’raps it’s on the way now!” muttered Mr. Spoopendyke. “Os course, the lottery folks know you found it. and they’ll break their necks to pay tip before the owner can make any trouble. Have you ordered anything else besides the dolman on the strength of this find? Been making any other purchases of a similar characterf* “No,” cooed Mrs. Spoopendyke. “And you shall have a—. What would you like, dear? We'll buy what you want, and if there's anything left, well think about the dolman." “Don't think there’ll be much left,” grunted Mr. Spoopendyke. “It didn’t occur to you that y/e could put this money in the bank, or I could use it in my business, did it? Never suggested itself to you that we could lay it away, or Speculate in stocks and double it. or buy a horse we could both enjoy, did it? All you thought of was the dolman, and you want me to advance the money for that?” “I didn’t know,” murmured Mrs. Spoopendyke, rather crestfallen. “I thought maybe there would be enough for us both, and if there was I’d like to get the sack. Say, dear, how much would the stocks cost?” “Depends on how much you paid for them,*’ lucidly explained Mr. Spoopendyke. “They'll cost a good deal mere than the seal skin will. What’s the matter with you? As soon as you get a few dollars you want to hum it away on clothes! Haven’t you any notion of saving? Think you’d excite any more respect among the other inmates by clawing around the poor house in a seal-skin coat? S’posel’m goingto sit around here like the label on a bottle and have the neighbors fetch in cold pie, while you skin around after washing in a seal-skin dolman? I tell you, this money’s going where it’ll do some good! Hear me? I’m going to build a barn and buy a horse.” “Won’t that be nice!” exclaimed Mrs. Spoopendyke, her face illuminated with smiles. “And at one end of tho barn we’ll have a piggery, and at the other end well have a hennery? Oh !” “We won’t!” snorted Mr. Spoopendyke. “Think I’m going to have a lot of measly hens scratching with one leg and crowing ali night with tho other? Got a notion that I’m going to put money into a pack of pigs that'll squeal when you let up long enough to give ’em a chance?” “But little pigs are so sweet!" pleaded Mrs. Spoopendyke. “And I dote on hens.” “Well, you do the doting, and I’ll take care of tho funds!” retorted Mr. Spoopendyke. “I s’pose I’ve got to buy the corner lot so as to give the barn a fronting on the street.” “And 111 train some vines over the door,” said Mrs. Spoopendyke. “With vines around the door -uni climbing beans over the window we could make it look .” “Think I’m going to put half this money into hiring somebody to find out what you’re talking about, don’t you?” roared Mr, Spoopendyke. “Know what a barn Is? Think it’s some kind of nuisance, with shelves in front for pots and a broken leg behind? Well, it ain’t, and it ain’t going to have any beans fooling around it. The first dod gosted bean that I find climbing over the window of that barn will get the chief part of its trousers loaded with shot!” “I thought it would look pretty,” sighed Mrs. Spoopendyke. “That's it!" yawped Mr. Spoopendyke. “You’ve been thinking again! With your disposition to throw everything into the form of thought you only want a stick of gum and a, bad reputation to be a female boarding-school! Don’t you interfere in this business any more till I call you out to look at the horse! Understand me?” “Yes, dear,” replied Mrs. Spoopendyke. leaning on his shoulder and looking closely at the ticket. “What do you suppose that ‘June, 1881' is on there for. " Mr. Spoopendyke glared at the slip, tore it into a thousand pieces, scattered them over the floor and danced on them. “What’s it for?” he yelled. “It’s to put arms and a tail to and be borne around by an eighteen carat idiot as a sealskin dolman. Where’d ye get it? How many suits of my clothes did ye trade off for this measly ticket, three years old? Which museum did ye start them dod gasted banns climbing into, with these miraculous financial results?” “Never mind, dear,” said Mrs. Spoopendyke, soothingly. “I'm sorry you’re disappointed about your bam, but I’ll give up tho sealskin sacque." Mr. Spoopendyke bent, on her long, lingering look, and then climbed into bed. “I don’t care,” murmured Mrs. Spoopendyke, os she rolled up her frizzes and plastered them with quince seed. “I don’t care. The horse would have run away with him and broken his neck, and, if it didn’t, wo might not have drawn anything. At all events, we won’t have to go to the expense of buying that corner lot, and that’s a saving.” And with this economical reflection Mrs. Spoopendyke measured her husband’s sealskin cap to see if contained enough material for a collar and a pair of cuffs, and, finding that it did, she planted her feet in his hack and sank into peaceful and refreshing slumber. flow Law Is Trifled With. St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Governor Crittenden, this morning, as will be seen i>y a telegram published elsewhere, pardoned Charles Stevens out of the penitentiary, where he had been sent for life for murder in tho .second degree. Stevens was a gambler ami barkeeper at. Maryville, Nodaway county. He was known throughout the section as ()maha Charley. In March, 1878, he shot and killed John Mayhan in a saloon row. and his neck was only saved after a hard battle. In June, 1879, he was sentenced to the penitentiary for life. He is a man of rare ingenuity, and made a number of presents, the wurk of his own bands, to Katie, the little daugnter of the Governor. She seemed very much attached to the convict, and during her last, illness she induced her father to promise to pardon him. The Governor has kept his promise. These facts are obtained from a gentleman iiv this city who was a witness in the case against Stevens. There was at the time a rumor in Maryville that Stevens had killed a man at Omaha some years before. Is Hanging Painful? Letter in Pall Mull Gazette. The followiug facts, as related to mo by a late distinguished officer, who died high in rank in her Majesty’s service, may la*, of some public interest. Many years ago, when a fag at a public school, he was ordered by liis master to get, his silk stockings ready for an evening party, but, unfortunately, only one could bo found. Vain were the excuses offered by the poor little fag. His master, in a rage, threw tho silk stocking round his nock and held him suspended in the air a sufficient time to produce unconsciousness, arid to make it a doubtful matter if vitality could again be restored. lie, therefore, experienced all the sensations of being hanged; but. ho suffered no pain, and used to say ho bad no recollection of anything happening to him from the moment, the stocking was thrown round his neck until he felt life returning.

THE WALL-STREET BEDLAM. The Great Game of the More You Put. Down the Less You Take Up. New York San, At 10 in the morning all down town is ready for the opening of the Stock Exchange. All the newspapers have been thoroughly read by employes employed to find whatever intelligence they may contain that can have any bearing upon the markets, and such deductions as the readers may have made are ready to be flashed over 25,000 miles of wire. A hundred operators’ circulars, based upon newspaper dispatches, and upon private means of getting facts and rumors, are poured into the telegraph offices, and thousands of merchants begin to telegraph to their agents, and get telegrams in return; and from that hour until 3 p. m. there is a hum all over the country. Millions upon millions change hands on paper, and fortunes are made and lost on the click of the telegraph instrument. The transfers that are effected in the Stock Exchange are not, as everybody knows, a tithe of the transactions of a day even in this city, to say nothing of the volume of business in the whole country; hut Wall street makes the prices for all the mar kets in the country, and the speculator who keeps well-informed as to the doings in “the street” need not look much further. Yet there are houses that make a record of all known money transactions in the cities of both hemispheres, and these houses base many of their operations upon purchases and sales hundreds of miles distant from New York. It is the men of prescience—far-seeing men—who are most successful in Wall street, as elsewhere; and it is to the end that they may sco further than their competitors that a hundred and fifty or more down-town firms employ every auxiliary that can be brought under their hands to strengthen them in their daily battle in the markets. Hence more than a hundred and fifty houses have availed themselves of the telegraph to the extent of hiring private wires, and other houses would do so if tho telegraph companies’ machinery could do the work for a greater number. There are firms that expend as much as $20,000 a year in telegraphing to and from their correspondents in remote cities and towns in this country and in Europe; and these firms, with correspondents at all important points, are seldom pinched in any Wall street squeeze. They go on from year to year, realizing from $25,000 to $250,000 annually above all expenses, and their neighbors term them lucky speculators. Why term it luck? These players have their eyes constantly on the cards in other players’ hands, and they know when to play and when not to play. Given a game of whist in which two partners know at the outset where every card is, what are the chances of the two partners who know no more than they may properly know under tlio rules of the games? What are the chances, therefore, of the competitors of those houses that have provided themselves with every conceivable means of gathering intelligence? It is clear that tho weaker operator will get just what the stronger may choose to give him, and no more, and that the hope of the weaker that he may profit by his speculations lies only in his becoming a customer of the stronger house, and thus making it for the interest of that house to give him a small margin of profit. Is the speculator who has fortified himself with all the advantages that intelligence can give ever bitten? Seldom. He is not deceived by tho blundering and sometimes wilfully false circulars that are distributed in town and telegraphed to the country everyday; no wild rumor in “the street” disturbs him. If he is in doubt his private wire calls up his correspondent at the vital point, and he keeps out of the trap that catches so many of his neighbors. They operate in a Bedlam, and in the excitement on the floor of the Exchange they have only what is visible to guide them; but lie looks behind the scenes. His private wire is illegal: but whoso business is it to prosecute anybody for this infraction of the laws? Anci since ho more speculators can be accommodated with private wires until new telegraph lines arc brought into existence, he may expect to enjoy a long lease of his monopoly. The broker, who pockets a percentage at every turn of the market, and who cares not whether prices go up or down, doesn’t deem it his duty to publish the illegal private wire monopoly to his customers, the hundreds of thousands of widows and executors, and country merchants and retired gentlemen, and even deacons and clergymen who dabble in stocks, and these purblind innocents will keep on putting up margins and wondering, with the rest of the public, why it is that the public cannot get on the wares between 10 a. m. and 3 p. m., the time when commercial telegraphing is busiest. You are told of men with sharp wits who have gone into Wall street and made from SIOO,OOO to $250,000 in a year or two. But bow many of them have come out a year later from $30,000 to $50,000 in debt? They were permitted for a season to draw glittering prizes, the speculators who held the private lines sagaciously assuming that the gambling craze would hold them in the market, and that their being in it would toll other gudgeons into it, only to be caught and laid out high and dry in the end A good story was told the reporter the other day of a hard-working man who had added to the occupation that gave him a livelihood a little speculating in Wall street. After he had lost $3,000 more than he had in tho world, a Wallstreet friend heard of it, and, calling on him, said: “George, you don't know the street: let mo have that stock, and I’ll get you out of this scrape.” George complied, and a month later the friend returned and gave him $27, saying: “There, you're clear of debt, and have this over.” The two called in some friends and they spent that $27 for wine, and George thanks his lucky stars that he hasn’t been in Wail street since. ROMANOFF’S BAD BOY. Passages from the Career of a Russian Grand Duke Who Is Now in Exile. St Petersburg Letter. Private advices from Turkestan state that the Grand Duke Nicholas, feeling unhappy in liis place of confinement, attempted to flee to India on horseback, but was overtaken and brought back. The Grand Duke Nicholas was the bad boy of the Russian imperial family. He has been several times in disgrace before, and it was on account of ono of his escapades and liis supposed leaning towards Nihilistic doctrines that lie was exiled. He was a brother of the late Czar, and was born in 1831. One night in the winter of 1871 there was a brilliant masked ball at the Opera-house of St. Petersburg. Among the* company present was an American girl of extraordinary beauty, scarcely out of her teens, yet a widow. Among the company, also masked, was the Grand Duke Nicholas Constantinovitoh, nephew of the Emperor. The couple became acquainted. The Prince was fascinated, and the result was that they never parted afterwards for two years and a half. The Grand Duke was, after this adventure, banished to the Caucasus. About, (fight years ago a book was published in Paris which caused a decided sensation. It was called “Le Roman d’une Americaine er. Russio,” and was written by Mrs. Hattie Blackford, also known as * Fannio Lear.” In it the authoress, aided by some hack writer of the boulevards, related her amorous adventures with a person whom she delighted to call “G. D.,” and whom the Almanach do Gotha called the Grand Duke Nicholas Constantinovitch, nephew of the then reigning Czar. It was a wretched production, but the police 1 bought it worth while to expel Miss Blackford from Paris, and her low victoria, with Russian horses, and her isclivotschie, in blue gaberdine and squash cap, were seen no more in tho Bois. In the lonely life of the steppes the exiled Prince looked about him for someone to love. Fair ladies were naturally scarce, but the Grand Duke ultimately settled his affection upon the exceedingly beautiful daughter of the policemaster. Michaeloff, and married her. When the marriage had been solemnized the Prince sent an humble and penitent letter to the bite Czar, entreating his sanction for the unequal match. It was refused with anger, aryl tho Czar, as a punishment for tho offense, < tiered the young Nicholas to join the expedition to the Amoor district l’or the explorat ion of Central Asia. Meantimo the beautiful daughter of the policemaster determined to take the business in her own hands, traveled to St. Petersburg, managed to get an interview with the Czar and entreated him to give his sanction to the marriage of his nephew. The imperial kinsman could not openly yield, but before the young lady departed for her home he created her Countess of Orenburg. This was taken as a proof that her appeal had made a favorable impression upon him, and when he died the Grand Duke was tempted to ask Alexander' 111 to let him return to the capital. The request was refused with scorn. After this, the Grand Duke was allowed to return to St. Petersburg society and imperial favor. He took a prominent part in the RussoTurkish war and received several distinguished

marks of honor from the Czar. Soon after the latter was assassinated he again fell into disgrace. and on April 5, 1881, was arrested in the village of Sublinv, on the railway to Moscow, and interned in a castle near St. Petersburg. He was suspected of political intrigues in favor of his father, and of furthering Nihilist plots to this end. He was subsequently sentenced to imprisonment for life and was confined for some time in the fortress of Dunaberg. Six months later his sentence was commuted to banishment to Turkistan, where he has been for tho last two years, fit* was given some employment in directing the building of a canal in Turkestan. Last July he was placed under arrest for a short time for interfering with tho duties of the Governor of the province. A MUCH-MARRIED WOMAN. Matrimonial Experiences of a Woman Who Had Nine Husbands. San Francisco Examiner. The philosophy of marriage is just now receiving a curious and dramatic illustration in the Superior Court. Mary A. Hasulbach vs. Theodore Hasalbach, an action for divorce, is the title of a singular case, which, for the past few days, has been on trial with closed doors before Judge Edmonds, in department No. 7. It has transpired that Mrs. Hasalbach is none other than “tho mysterious veiled woman” who appeared so conspicuously in the character of a witness during tho trial in Washington several years since of tho celebrated case against Oliver Cameron for alimony and a decree of divorce. Mrs. Hasalbach now seeks a legal separation from her husband, Mr. Hasalbaeh, alleging that he had been cruel in liis treatment and has also threatened to shoot her. Mr. Hasalbach has filed a denial of these allegations and a cross-complaint, asking that the marriage be annulled, on the ground that Mrs. Hasal bach had a husband living at the date of her nuptials with him, in April last. He also accuses her of misrepresentation and declares that she is neither chaste nor sober. Mr. and Mrs. Hasalbach have been residing at 1150 Market street. Ho is seventy-two years of age, a native of Germany and the possessor of a moderate capital. Mrs. Hasalbach claims to be fifty-six years old. but admitted ’during her cnoss-exam-i nation in court that she was born in 1837,which, according to the modern principles of mathematics, would make her forty-six years of age. She, so it appears, was an itinerant vender of pomades, lotions, etc. She went ono day to the house of Mr. Hasalbach, hearing that he was sick, for tho purpose of selling him some pills, and, as she says, being anxious for a man to take care of her, and believing him to be worth $30,000, concluded to marry him. The courtship was only of a few weeks’ duration, at the expiration of which she proposed, was accepted, and the wedding was celebrated. Mrs. Hasalbach testified that she had, at different times prior to her encounter with Theodore, been the possessor of six husbands, but when under cross-examination admitted that of the lot four had died, three had been divorced, and one was among the missing—thus making a total of eight, exclusive of the last husband. When asked who they were Mrs. Hasalbach was unable to recollect them all, the list was so long, and could name only the following six: John T. Connors, George M. French, AsaT. Grondycke, J. A. Sample, Abram Henriques, Isaac Lelander. Mrs. Hasalbach evidently has a preference for elderly men, since all of her numerous husbands were much older than she. One of them was twelve, a second nineteen and a third thirty-six years her senior, and, as has been stated, her present spouse is seventy-two years of age. Mr. Hasalbach is a widower, an old resident of Sacramento and a California pioneer, and Mrs. Hasalbach has been living in San Francisco for about three years. It is in evidence that she was betrothed to Mr. Hasalbach for three weeks prior to her divorce from Mr. Lelander. It is also claimed by the counsel for Mr. Hasalbach that tho marriage is not valid, since at the date of its occurrence in last April the decree of divorce from Mr. Lelander had not been filed, or recorded. Mrs. Hasalbach, when a defendant in the divorce suit of Josiah Sample vs. Mary A. Sample, which was tried some time since in Washington, was then identified as the mysterious veiled witness in the Cameron case. When called to the witness-box she gave the name of Mrs. M. A. Henriques, and in the course of her testimony said that she had been intimate with Mrs. Oliver. who confided to her the intention she had of blackmailing Simon Cameron. Mrs. Oliver was then told by the witness that if she ever attempted to black-mail Simon Cameron, she (the witness) would appear and testify against her. Mrs. Henriques. alias Hasalbach. also testified on cross-examination that she was born in Maine; that she left there when sixteen years of age for Philadelphia, in company with her husband. George M. French. She also lived at later dates in Cordova, Miss., andLyous, la., whence she went to Chicago. Her maiden name, she continued, was Mary'Arm Prant. Her first husband was living yet, she having been divorced from him. She next married Mr. Grondycke. who died in 1864. She was averse to telling people how often she had been married. J* H. Sample, of North Carolina, was her next husband, to whom she was married in January. 1868, and went with him to Mobile. Ala., m 1874. and after traveling for a time had returned to Washington, renting the house at 1321 New York avenue, where she resided until March, 1875. When asked by counsel at this stage of her testimony how she camo by her then name of Mrs. Henriques, she repled: “That’s my business. I came honestly by it.” Then she went on to say that she had married Mr. Henriques in Philadelphia in 1876, but had lived with him only for a week or so. She had supposed at tho time that she was wedding a well-to-do man, but had discovered that he was old, poor and an invalid, and unable to take care of her. She did not know what had become off Mr. Henriques since the separation, and declared that she came by her money honestly and not. by black-mailing. Mrs. Hasalbach is a woman of nine husbands, if not of nine lives. She takes tho world philosophically and still survives tho missing, dead and divorced companions of her bosom. A Sensible Letter. London Letter in Boston Herald. It is supposed to he perfectly true that the handsome, accomplished young Duke of Portland had made overtures of suit to the eldest daughter of the Prince of Wales. This charming girl is only just now sixteen, anl her sensible mother declines to have tho child’s head turned by thoughts of lover, love-making and marriage. However, tho whole matter is now in tho wind and even in the cards. In this instance it would be sweetly a matter of love, and so would be lifted out of the horrible vulgarity and wickedness of matrimonial diplomacy which has marred tlio domestic life of at least one member of the present royal house, if all that passes for fact may be taken as such. The young Duke is a splendid, manly fellow, and tho young Princess is a sweet, simple, lovable English girl, and gjssip has it that the Duke has admiration and love for the sweet girl for her own sake, and that her parents have deep respect for the personal character and almost bewitching personality of this fine—perhaps finest-—flowering of this old house of Portland. A Disastrous Year. Philadelphia Times. This year has been the most disastrous ever known in the history of the American insurance business. The losses will exceed $100,000,000. Many of the agents of the large foreign and home companies rejirescnted in this city express the utmost anxiety regarding the future of the insurance business. They say that the losses have increased to such an alarming extent that a thorough revision of the rates has been deemed necessary. An association composed of the Philadelphia representatives of all the companies doing business hero met on Thursday to consider means for increasing the premiums. The agent of ono of tho largest foreign companies said: “The number of fires that have occurred in this country within the past year would surprise yon. Tho losses have been constant and increasing. They will aggregate $100,000,000. It is true there has not been any great conflagration like that at Chicago or Portland, or those at Boston, but the vast total has been made by the gradual growth of comparatively small losses.” Color is given to the report that the Pennsylvania Railroad Company has been negotiating for the purchase of “the Connotton Valley narrow gauge railway by the additional statement that tlio Cleveland & Pittsburg company has desired for some time to secure better terminal facilities. With the control of the Connotton road it would not only secure valuable terminal facilities, much better than it now possesses, but would secure a belt line around the city aud wipe out a competing line.