Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 19 May 1887 — Page 10

A DETECTIVE VICAR.

MISS M. K. BUADDOJfc

CHAPTER VL

BROCGUT TO A FOOTS.

.The day h:»d seamed long to the prisoner in Milldale jail, although he was cheered by the society of bis mother, who spent ali the time the authorities allowed in her son's gloomy apartment. It was a sight to see the brave-hearted old. lady sitting opposite her eon knitting a couvre-pied of soft Shetland wool, and pretending to be as comfortable and as much at her ease as if she were in her pretty drawing room at 8outh Kensington. Not by so much as a quiver of her lip would she allow herself to* betray her anxiety. Her heart was as heavy as lead, yet she contrived, to smile, and kept up a cheerful flow of small talk about the past and future—church affairs, the school, the choir.

But even with this consoling company the dark winter day had seemed long to George Caulfield. He was feverishly expectant of news from Grandchester, and when none came he fancied that his friend, his lawyer, and the police had alike failed in their efforts to let in lijht upon the mystery of that nameless girl's death.

And if the day seemed long, what of the dreary winter night, when imagination, excited by strange circumstances and strange surrounding*, conjured up the horrors of a criminal trial—the crowded court, every creature in it believing him, George Caulfield, the murderer of a helpless girl. He saw the chain of circumstantial evidence lengthening out link by link, and he could have no power to sunder thosa links. His lips would be sealed.

And then involuntarily there broke from his lips a cry of anguish: "He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, «o he openeth not his mouth."

He had spent a feverish night, given half to wakefulness, half to appalling dream*. He had risen and dressed himself as soon as it was light, and now he sat waiting wearily for sane sign from the outer world, some cheering message, soma word of hope. It was only two days since the Vicar of Freshmead had left him, yet it seemed ages.

Hark! was not that the cheery voice he knew so well, the full vibration of tones that came from powerful lungs, the clear utterance of a man accustomed to address multitudes? Yes, it was La worthy's voice, assuredly, and that cheerful tone should belong to the Wringer of good tidings.

Ho sat with his hands^clutching the edge of his pallet, profoundly agitated, while the /grating key turned in the lock, and the iheavy cell door moved slowly back. Then •the vicar rushed into the cell and grasped hip hands, and laid his hand upon his forehead in loving benediction. "God bless you, my dear boy! You will -.not have long to stay in this wretched hole. The man who brought that poor creature to the station is arrested he came here by tha train I traveled in. He is now in this jaiL There will be a post mortem to-day, tha iaquest will be reopened on Monday instead of on Wednesday nex5, and the evidence then produced will prove his guilt and your innovcenca" •. "Thank Goi!" ejaculated Georsje Ciu''Held, and then he ijll on his knees besida the prison bed arid poured out the rapture of his soul in prayer and thanksgivii?. ,. .,

When he had finished that voiceless prayer he sat down quietly besid? his friend to hoar how the vjcar had dona hii work and how completely he had succeeded. "Up to last night the evidence against my gentleman was only speculative," he said, when he bad described all that had happened in Briargate and at Parminter "but last night the polio contrive 1 to bring matters to a focus. Once having got a clew, they worked marvelously welL They got hold of half a dozjn photographs of this Mr. Foy, who had been vain enough to get himself photographed, at different times, by all the leading photographers of Grandchester. Provided with these, they went the roun 1 of the chemists' shops, and found where my gentleman had bought poison. They traced tiim from lodging to lodging, till they found him. £wo years ago. living in the outskirts of Grandchester with a weakly, nervous wife, whosa description corresponded exactly with that of the weakly, nervous sister at Parminter. They obtained a photograph of this young woman, which had baen given by her as a parting souvenir to the landlady and this portrait Mrs. Moff, the Parminter charwoman, identified as a likeness of the so-called sister. This was bringing things to a focus, wasn't it?" inquire! the vicar, giving his young friend a ferocious di^ in the ribs. "Decidedly." "They were brought still closer this morning, thanks to my advertisement for a missing young woman in a Rob Roy shawl. This morning an elderly female appears at Messrs. Brock bank's, solicitors—your solicitors, you know—and tells them that she keeps a small public house in Water lane, a narrow street leading to the river, and within five hundred yards of the railway station, and to her house came a young man with an ailing young woman in a plaid shawl—Rob Roy pattern. They stayed there two days and two nights, and while they were there the young woman got worse, and was so ill that she had to be carried to the station when tha youn? man, who owned to beins her husband, took her away. Ha was taking her to the seaside, he told his landlady, the doctor having said the sea air would brinsf her rouud. The landlady's son, who was in the iron trade, helped to carry the poor young woman to the station. It was quite dark, and no one took much notice of them. This is why the polica could get no information from cabmen or cab masters, you see. Now, this good woman, the landlady, has been brought to Milldale this morn in She will see the corpse and the will see Mr. Foy, and I hops she may be able to identify both. She has seen Foy's photograph and recognised it already. So the long and short of it is, my dear fellow, that I think you're pretty comfortably out cf this mes-, anl I hope you'll never do suoh a thing again,"

The vicar affected facetiousness, perhaps to hide the depth of his feeling. He loved bis friend almo as well as he loved his own sons, and ihat is much, for the man's heart ovei flowed with love.

The inquest was reopened on Monday, and the evidenca against Gaston Foy was so complete in all its d)tais that the jury had not a moment's hesitation in ordering the immediate release of George. Caulfiald, who left Miild&le by an afternoon train, and officiated at an evening servic at Philemon's that night. How happy he and his mother were as they sat sidi by side in the railway carriage on the journey back to London. "I think it will be a long time before I shall care to travel at night and alone," said the curate. "The memory of that awful hour between' Grandchester and Milldale wou'd be too vivid."

The complete history of Gaston Foy—how

he maiT.ed a ooor gu*l of humble station,

...

and grew tired ot ner soon alter the birth of a child, whose death left the mother weakened in body and mind how, when he found himself getting on in the world, recaived and made much of in the Umpleby household, he determined to get rii of his wife and marry Miss Umpleby—u all to be read in the criminal records of Grandchester, in which city the young man was tried for willful murder, found guilty, and hanged within the prison walls a fortnight aftera

THE END.

The "Kin* of the Dudes."

Those who are interested in the phenomena! career of his American majesty, the king of dudes, will be glad to hear that that extremely innocent young gentleman still lives, and his reign was never more brilliant than it is at Long Branch to-day. He is to lie seen among the first in the morning and the last at night, and always with the very prettiest gentile girls—not the Jewesses, for, however they may desire to marry, it is not clothes they look'for, not even the clothes of a king. Would you know how the king of the dudes dresses? Take last Sunday's costumes, for instance. He appeared a$ breakfast with a soft, gray suit, with a very subdued plaid for a pattern. His scarf was a loose flowing tie of an aesthetic mouse color, without a pin. On his feet were high buttoned alligator shoes, and he carried a stotit stick, with a bit of deer horn for a handle. His hat was an English rough-and-ready white straw hat, with a wide cream-colored band of «ilk_ He wore one plain gold ring. In the afternoon he wore a white flannel suit, with sack coat, a white Derby hat, a bainboo cane with a silver handle, and low laced shoes.

In this suit he went out for a drive with an exquisitely beautiful young woman in white, the same who had appeared at Saturday night's parlor dance in a dress of mauve film resting loosely like a cloud over a black silk dress, and with her hair a la Miss Folsom. At dinner the king appeared in a black Prince Albert and cream-colored trousers. With this suit he wore a black silk hat draped with a mourning band. Later, at the concert, he was in full evening toggery, with his shirt front devoid of ornament.

The king of the dudes is always very quiet and gentlemanlike in deportment. He has a low, soft voice, such as ladies have to lean forward to hear. He has an aristocratic face, just a little touched with melancholy, of the sort that interests without suggesting either suicide or neuralgia. He wears a little brownish-black mustache and a thick head of black haii*, cut close behind, parted in the middle on top, and nestling in a double line of beauty over his high, broad forehead. He might be called intellectual looking but for his eyes, but there is no more depth or character in them than there is in a pair of door knobs.—Long Branch Cor. New York San.

A FAMOUS FIREMAN.

Sketch of a Veteran Extinguisher of Flames. [Special Correspondence.l

CHICAGO, May 10.—One of tbe most famous fire fighters in the world is Denis J. Swenie, who has just been appointed chief of the Chicago fire department by the new mayor, and whom an outgoing mayor recommended the city to send to Europe for a year on full pay, there to make a study of the fire fighting methods of the English and French. Mr. Swenie is not only the chief, but the veteran of Ihe Chicago department, which experts have pronounced, all things considered, the finest fire brigade in the world. It is now thirty-seven years since he be gan his career as a] fireman, he then being only 20 years old. He has been in the service continually from that dAy to this. At first ho was only a pipeman in the volunteer corps, running with the Niagara and then with the Red Jacket engines. When the department wafr organized as a regular salaried arm of the municipal machine, in 1858, Mr. Swenie became its first chicf. After a short but successful career in this office politics supplanted him, but he continued in service as foreman of an engine company, and proved himself surh a loyal, bravo and daring fireman that aft8r repeated promotions he was, about five years ago, again made a chief, thus enjoying the novel experience of having been the fir^t and latest fire chief of one of the large cities of the world. When the great fire of 1871 came Mr. Swenie was foreman of an engine company, but by his prompt action saved four squares on the north side of the river, bounded by Michigan and Market streets end the river.

one a

D. J. SWKNIK.

He is an ideal fire chief. Every man in the department is known to him personally, and every bit of the apparatus is familiar to him. Ho attends all fires, day or night, and though a pleasant and approachable man, popular among the rank and file, his discipline is almost military in character and influence. No more unpretentious man ever lived, though it is largely due to his genius and energy that the Chicago department, notoriously inefficient in 1S71 and 1874, has been brought to such a high standard of excellence that the fire chiefs from London, Liverpool and Paris, besides scores from American cities, have traveled hither on purpose to study it

The importance of Chief S.wenie's position may be better judged by consideration of these facts: There is no fire commission in Chicago, and the sble authority, under the mayor, rests with the chief. In the department are 500 men, manning S3 steam engines, 10 hook and ladder trucks, 6 chemical engines, a stand pipe, 200 horsed and 10 miles of hose. The Chicago department answers an average ot six alarms each day, and the cost of its maintenance is nearly $1,000,000 a grear. Chief Swenie's reappointment, after a recent change in the politics of the city administration, was very gratifying to the citizens and to his friends and admirers in the fire departments of many American cities.

WALTKR WELLMAN.

Selected for Policemen.

The police department of New York is not prejudiced evidently in the matter of selections for "the finest" Thirty-seven additions to the ranks were made recently on probation. Four of the number '.were machinists, four were clerks, ten were conductors or drivers of cars or trucks, three were teamsters, two were blacksmiths, two were agents, one a printer, one a butcher, one a rigger, one a watchman, one a newsman, one a gateman, one a bookkeeper, one an undertaker, one a I re an a a a a

stiirbuilder.—Chicago Times.

THE GAZETTE: TERRE HAUTE,' INDIANA, THURSDAY,

PLUCKfi

Br JOHN STRANGE WINTER,

Author of "Cavalry Life," "Bootleg Baby,"

uHoup-La," UA

Man of Honor, EUk

MRS. HENRIETTA E.

8TANNARD.

(John Strange Winter.)

CHAPTER t""

"HURRY NO HAN'S CATTLE fHope la a lover's staff walk hence with that, *And manage It against despairing thought*, —Two Gentlemen of Verona. 'Brilliant hopes all woven in gorgeous tissues,

Flaunting gayly la the golden light,Large desires, with most uncertain Issues. Tender wishes, blossoming at night.' —Flowers. -"The fact is," said Lucy, in his most confidential tones to a group of his brother officers who were gathered round the open window of the anteroom in Idleminster bar* racks 'the fact is, I nev-ah was in love with but one lady in all my life, and she jilt-ed met Her name was Naomi

But here he was interrupted by the laughter of several, and the vigorous remonstrance of one of his hearers that one was Mile*. "Now, look here, Lucy it won't da Why can't you let the Reverend Solomon rest in his grave?" "Wrest ia his gwravel" repeated Lucy, with a wi9e air bf surprise. "Why, I didn't —er—know anything had. happened to his wreverence."

Another burst of laughter followed this simple remark whether at .its very sim? plicity, or whether at the disgusted look on Miles' face, would be hard to say perhaps partly from both causes. "Oh I" Lucy went blandly on, seeing that the Reverend Solomon, who had succeeded him in the affections of Naomi, was evidently still in the flesh, "you are speaking figuratively, eh? Ah I bad thing to do, that I nev-ah do it As I said, she jiit-ed me. Ah I she was wreally the only lady I ev-ah wished to marwry. I nev-ah altogether got over it" "I'm afraid you never will, Lucy," put in Harkness, dryly. "Pewrhaps not," with a resigned air. "Still, thewre's no saying. Time heals all wounds, they say and by the time Mignon is old enough to marwry me "Oh I then you're going to. marry Mignont" laughed Hartog. a "If she will have me," returned Capt Lucy, with the utmost gravity. "Pewrhaps she won't things of the gender feminine are so given to changa of mind. Naomi, my first love, changed hers. Mignon says now that she will nev-ah marwry anybody but her devoted Lai but when Mignon grows up, and she sees that her Lai is getting middle-aged, stout although that is a calamity which, let lis hope, will not fall upon me—bald—an afflictioil which, let us pwray, the decwrees of Pwrovidence may long fo»-efend—deaf—a state of things fwrom which heaven long pwrotect me (deaf people are such a bore)—why, then Mignon may forget or, worse s:ill, wrepent the wresolves and pwrpmises of her childhood, and go for some fellow who at this moment is flouwrishing about the world in an Eton jacket and a turn down collar. It is the way of the world, and so the world wruns away." "Well, you know, Lucy," put in Hartog, "you would make rather an old sort of husband for Miss Mignon." "I shou be a!l the better able to take, care of her," returned Lucy, promptly. "Not that I expect her to have me for a moment I know my sister used to swear, when she was young, that she would nev-ah marwry anybody but a clergyman." "And she did not?" asked Preston. "Na" And Lucy looked wiser than ever. "My wrespected bwrother-in-law, Jim Arkwright, digs cools and makes cottons and calicoes a good fellow he is, too. I was at Harwrow with him." "Oh, a manufacturer?'' some one asked. "Yes has coal pits and cotton mills and inch like," returned Lucy placidly. "Seem3 to pay, too. Anyway, his house is one of the pleasantest I know. I wish I was going on thirty days' leave instead of ten." "Oh, you're going to stay with your sister." "Yes and Harkness goes with me," Lucy answered.

I may as well tell you here that Cecil Lucy, of the Scarlet Lancers, had but one near relative in the worl 1—that was his sister. Mrs. Arkwright The name of Arkwiight connected with that of Weyland— Weyland & Arkwright—was one of the best known in and round about the district of whic'a Barnsbury was the center. Well it might be known, for it was to ba seen everywhere for miles and miles around—on carts and trolleys and railway wagons alike on thousands and thousands of bales of cotton and calico on houses and mills I might almost say, on men and women.

Of the two senior partners of the firm, Murray Weyland was a man under 50 years old, and James—or, as he was invariably called, Jim—Arkwright was quite fifteen years younger.

It cannot be said that either of them was a manufacturer of the conventional story book typ?. Murray Weyland had boen educated at Eton Arkwright at Harrow. They hunted, and shot and fished had grouse moors in Sootland and most summers one or other of them went off to Norway for salmon fishing each had a lovely place in the neighborhood of Barnsbury and combined the life of a country gentleman with that of a man of business.

Well, to go back a little, Murray Weyland, before he was thirty years old, had married the daughter of an Irish gentleman with just about as much pedigree as the Weylands had money, and about a tenth of as much money as the Wey lands had pedigree a handsome and vivacious woman, with regular features, and that blue-black hair, just the thade of a raven's wing, which often goes with those gray eyes which look like bleck ones, because Dame Nature has

S* it. $

l"~~'

put. them in with a dirty linger. The result of this marriage was unbroken happiness and one child, a daughter, who was called Olive. And Olive WeyHnd was not only the richest girl about Barnsbury but the most popaUur »nJ by far the prettiest

Nor was hers common, every day beauty for she was a girl with an air as distinguished as one might reasonably expeot to meet oi a fair day's march. It h«d been said of her that the traditional spoon with which she had been born had been, not 6t silver, but of jewels and gold certainly she bad been lucky. ig,tj)at.?he had inherited the best point* of both father's and mothers persons. Mrs. Weyland was a small, straight-featured, sparkling brunette^ full of fire and fun and vivacity. Weyland, on tbe contrary, was big and fair and slow, with what had been a brilliantly, fair complexion, though now it was reddened and tanned by much exposure to sun and wind and all sorts of foul weather and, as large, slow-speaking men often have, Murray Weyland had a flum, true, steady, tender heart, which had never done a wrong to any man or woman stem the day it first began to beat

Olive had got the father's true, steadfast nature, combined with occasional flashes of the mother's wit she had got the father's large stature, the mother's grace, the tether's yellow hair and fairness of skin, with the mother's regular features and gray Irish eves. She had also got the benefit of the dirty finger, and the effeot of the whole was to give to the world just as lovely a young woman as either author or reader could wish for the heroine of a story or to be tbe darling of anv man's heart

No other child than Olive had come to make music in the pretty old home where the Wey lands lived yet, though there was no boy Weyland to take his place in the firm, Murray Wevland did not make a trouble of the fact There were enough of the young Arkwrights over at Barnardwistle to carry on half a dozen firms

waB

habit of

paving and it was true. Jim Arkwright had married when very young, and the old place where his father and 'his grandfather bad Jived before him resounded with the noise of six little pairs of feet Six healthy, happy voices shouted "Dad, dad, dad 1" when he returned from his offlca, or, in a well-be-spattered pink coat from his Elysian fields of delight—that is, from hunting and these six were all boys, and two of them had had the audacity to come as a pair.

And as there were enough of the young Arkwrights and to spare, Murray Weyland was well content with his girL Sometimes he declared in jest he had gone in for quality rather than for quantity, and there were many who agre?d with him among them notablv was Edith ArkwrightV brother, Cecil Lucy, of the Scarlet Lincers, who—in spite of his affectation and his drawl, his air of wise imbecility, and his threadbare story about his first love, who was called Naomi, and had jilted him, and hi* oft-repeated declaration that he m^ant to marry Booties' little daughter, Mis$» Mignon—possessed one spot in his heart which was much more soft and tender than any of the fellows in the regiment, or, for the matter of that, Edith Arkwright herself, ruve him credit for—a spot of whi"h Olive Weyland was queen. It was no new thing. Any time during the last five years Lucy had known perfectly well that she was the on? woman whom the world held for him. Any jlime during the last five years—that is, from the day of her sixteenth birthday—he would have twken the plunge and asked her to marry him, had he had the faintest hope that she would accept him.

But hope is what he had not had. He knew only too wall that Olive Weyland did not care for him in the way he, wished. His favorite adage—one which he made to fit all oocasions—was, "Hurry no man's cattle," and upon it he acted in this instance as in most others. So long as Olive showed no signs of caring for any ona else, he was content to bide his time, to live his soldier's life, to go on his placid, good-natured way, and tell his story of how he nev-ah wanted to marry but one lady in all his life, and how she had thrown him over for an elephantine parson, whose name was—er—Fligg—the Wreverend Solomon Fligg how he had met her since as the blooming mother of eleven little Fliggs, all conies in miniature of their estimable papa. He was content to live and act and speak so as to throw dust in the eyes of nearly all who knew him and, as perhaps he neither expected nor meant, the most effectually blinded of all was Oliye harselC.

[CONTINUED.] An Iowa Idyl."

A man may cliin And a man may work

For the temperance cause all da But he can't go fishin' And observe prohibition JJecauso he ain't built that way. —"Jcf. Joslyn" in St. Paul Herald.

A lieason Found at Last.

Husband—Ready for the opera, are you? Well, thathat would scare the devil! Wife (sweetly)—That's tho reason why wear it, my dear.

rractkinc at Diplomatic tolling. M. Mollard, the introducer of ambassadors to the French republic, was formerly a jeweler, and used to supplement his income by playing the cornet at the famous Mabille. Before participating in any great diplomatic function M. Mollard stands at the window of the foreign office and practices smiling and this innocent custom has caused numberless altercations between the concierge of the building and passers-by who deem themselves insulted.—Chicago Times*.

Feeding the Squirrels.

During the past winter Mrs. Mary Miller, of Hillsborodgh, N. H., fed daily eight gray squirrels which came to her door from the woods every morning and departed alter having had their breakfast

*^X ~\r "",.

rf~

1q i»«7

French Drama In Chicago. Tho Bernhardt engagement has brought out all the French scholars in Chicago. Never before had we suspected that there were so many able linguists in the midst of us. Gen. Stiles, wo -have just discovered* speaks French like a native of Paris (Vermilion county). He attended the "FrouFrou" performance last evening with his friend Judge Prendergast. The judge is a proficient Greek and Latin scholar, but he knows little of French,,his vocabulary" being limited to such phrases as "fo par," "liaison," "kelky shoze," and "oily bonnur," so Gee. Stiles had to explain the play~to him as it progressed last evening. "Now what is die sayingf' the judge would ask. "She said 'Good evening,'" the general would answer. "Does 'bung swor' mean 'good evenlngf tbe judge would^inqufa^. "Yes." Ij -.. "Oh, what rot!" the judge would exclaim, and then a dude usher in one of Willoughby & Hill's $10 dress suits would teeter down the aisle and warn the gentlemen not to whisper so loud.

Presently Col. William Penn Nixon, tbe gifted editor of Tbe Inter Ocean, came along and slipped into the seat next to Gen. Stiles. He had an opera giass, and he leveled it at once at Bernhardt's red, red hair. "Do you speak French!" asked Gen. Stiles in the confidential tone of a member of tbe citizens' committee. "Oony poo," said Col. Nixon, guardedly. "Vooley voo donny moy voter ver de lopera?" asked the general, motioning toward the opera glass. "See nay par zoon ver de lopera!" protested the colonel. "Say lay zhoomels." "Mong doo! What do I want of zhoomels?" cried Gen. Stiles. "Zhoomels is twins!" "Par blooi" said Col. Nixon "it is not twins, it is opera glasses." "You're all wrong, William," urged the general. "The French idiom is 'the glass of the opera.' 'Ver'is glass, and'de lopera' is of the opera."" "I have heard them called lornyets," suggested Judge PrendergaSt, in the deferential tone of a young barrister seeking a change of venua "Well, I dont know what the general's opera glass is," said CoL Nixon, "but this one of mine is a 'lay zhoomels.'" "Call it what you please," replied the judge, "it is de tro as far as I am concerned until the corpse de bally makes it ontray." "I thought you didn't speak French," said Gen. Stiles, turning fiercely upon the judge. "Oh, well," the judge explained, apologetically. "I'm not what you and the colonel would call oh fay—I'm a june pripamer at the business, but when the wind is southerly I reckon I can tell a grizet from a garsong.-'

Chicago society is still in considerable doubt as to where Bernhardt should be located in the artistic scale. A good many of tho elite think that her Fedora is second to Fanny Davenport's and there are very many others who prefer Clara Morn's' Camille. We notice that the popular inquiry in cultured circles is "Have you been to see Bernhardt?" not "Have you been to hear Bernhardt?" "Oh, you don't know how I enjoyed Bayernhayerdt the other evening!" exclaimed oifc of our most beautiful and accomplished belles. "Her dresses are beautiful, and they do say she is dreadfully naughty!"—Eugene Field in Chicago News.

2 A Student of Womankind.^ Omaha Merchant—What has become of tbat piece of velvet I left here?

Clerk—Mrs. De Million "Great Casarl It had the wrong price mark on and you have let it go at less than half tho cost Mrs. De Million will never give it up, I know." "She was not here herself. Her husband took a fancy to it and bought it for her." "Oh! Her husband selected it That's right She'll bring it back."

Youthful Novel Keaderab, ,, 1.

They start for tha glorious, frcQ and boundless west—to kill Injuns. II.

fond night out.

Thei-

A Change of Front.

Slan at Second Hand Book Store, with Volume Under His Arm—What is the

s' ni t*

best

you cirn do on a copy of Josephus' works? Proprietor—Give you twenty-five cents if the book is in good order. Fact is, we're overrun with Josephus. No

Bale at all

for

the

book. Man—You misunderstand. I haven't any to sell. I want to buy a copy of the work to match this "Rollin."

Proprietor—J ust got one left Been a run on Josephus lately. Sell you this copy for $2.50.—Chicago Tribune.

Fair Parisienne#' Talk.

'•Why is it, my dear, that yoa always dress in black?" "Oh, I am very fond of black.* "But it is so gloomy." "That's just it. I like to imagine myself a widow."—French paper.

*,K»'.R

7«r gv K*

»'i v'*t I"'

JNE THROWING GUNS.

Hr«ry Tear Adds to the Devices for Ult Saving. Every year and almost every month brings forth new inventions to save life or destroy it We have more and more destructive fire arms and torpedoes, and still more efficient methods of saving the unfortunate. Among the latest of the saving devices is tbe line throwing gun, invented invented tor Mr. 'ft fi.

LIN* THROWING GUN.

Dawson, an Euglishman, to establish communication between a shipwrecked vessel and the shore, or between any two points. Our engraving presents only the general outline of tbe two kinds of gun the shoulder gun will throw a line 100 yards long, and tbe brass gun iriounted on a carriage will throw one a little over a quarter of a mile long. In the experiments recently made at Tilbury docks, England, it was shown that the lino could be directed with the accuracy of a shot Irom a rifled cannon and fall across a vessel without even being singed, thus establishing immediate connection between ship and shore. In the shoulder gun one and three-quarters

SHOULDER OUN.

drachms of rifle powder were used and is the other seven and one-half ounces. The line is wound in along "cop," which is placed in a light metallic case, one end fastened by going through an orifice near the breach the case pays out the line as it proceeds. Tho lino is amply protected against the fire. The mounted gun is for shore service, but it is believed that the shoulder gun will prove valuable on land in case of fire when prompt connection isdesired.

Gen. S. B. Bnckner.

We present herewith a portrait of Gen. Simon Bolivar Buckner, whom the Democrats nominated for Governor of Kentucky on the 4th inst. He is a fine looking and very sturdy gentleman, of 58 years, with snow white hair and a luxuriant beard. He is accounted one of tbe finest horsemen in the south, and was in early life a type of the dashing, chivalrous Iven' tuckian.. Coming

Winto the world about the time

GEN. s. B. BUCKNER. when the heroic deeds of (Jen. Bolivar, the "Washington of South America," excited so much enthusiasm in this country, the young Buckner received his name and seems to have partaken somewhat of his nature. Almost from the day he reached manhood he was a prominent figure in Kentucky. As general of the so called State troops of the early days of 1S61, he led a brigade of them when they entered the Confederate service and tho fact that it was. his misfortune to be in command when Fort Donelsou surrendered did not long lessen his popularity. Gen. Buckner is a man of wealth and unusually happy in his domestic relations. He has never taken a very active part in politics, and this is one instance where tho office persistently soueht the man.

Blahop Wilson.

Bishop Alpheus W. Wilson, of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, has recently returned from a tour p*ound the world, undertaken for the purpose of investigating and strengthening the foreign missions of his church.

Bishop Wilson is one of the ablest and most popular ministers of the south. He was born in Baltimore in 1834, was educated at Columbia college in the District of Columbia, studied medicine for a while and left I that for the min-

BISHOP WILSON.

!1istry,

which he

entered in 1857. His pelpit eloquence accounted for his remarkably rapid rise to the bishopric. The foreign work which be was selected by his conferences to do was a rather difficult undertaking. He left this country in June last, and spent several months in China and Japan. In China he organized a conference of tho missions of his church. He will impress among the people of the south the need of more help in the mission fields. He was treated with great courtesy in both Japan and China. "I believe," he says, "that in twenty years from now the Mikado of Japan will openly declare in favor of Christianity. In regard to the two nations, I think the Japanese, while more brilliant and progressive than their conservative neighbors, are shallow, and are not nearly as thorough in their work and thought" Bishop Wilson made a tour through the Holy land and uj the Nile. He is in excellent bealth.

Glal to Get Off So Easily. A wealthy Boston gentleman had moved out of town and located in a little village community where the ways of life had al- I ways been rather primitive and the expendi- I ture small. One day the assessors of the town came to him, rather fearfully. They I didn't want to tax him out of the town, and yet they proposed to have him bear his share of the taxation. "Ah, gentlemen," said be, after they had timidly pumped him a little as to the amount of his property, "what is the

amount of money you have to raise here by

taxation?" "Twelve thousand dollars this

year, sir." "Twelve thousand dollars, eh?" Well, send the bill to me and I'll pay the whole of it" Not a single rustic in the place paid any taxes that year, and the Boston man got off a good deal cheaper than he had for some years.—Boston Tracscript.

The "New England" Colony. It seems rather a pity to draw off some of the best and most enterprising elements of our population to western colonies, but the formation of such colonies continues at more or less regular intervals. There

1*3

now form-

ing one which is now called the New England colony, and which proposes to found, in western Dakota, a town to be named New England City, where the streets will be called after the names of New England states and

our public men.—Boston Transcript.