New York Clipper (Mar 1878)

March 30, isrg jftJfBWASSi E. EIDDES. 6be had boBcr, and of eaabplcBt7, t«o: He WM yr fall wDoId ve4—tbia.ta He spTond so htatlr biwl. mch »n air. Pbr b« hadn't rot a "i«d,"iiiit»'"»<ml" and Ckir, br Baadmind b*ritold en balr at wai ■ dr«d>. „ . Raid b« wa Ba«naD peer (bm be U«d), tkr u>il near for a bride! A>tltfTV^d*d In the PiU-cnod allalr— Prtrndsand Riailmi ud an. ther vere tbere: " •^"b»roli»»"b»»!«brd.*'«»iat»b«rl'' .'•i^^K>aIi|'nrftt>nctaaBBallketfaaeDe<BlIcct -. ieiaE*Ii>.''mdbe, "rdeawtbrC'jnle^ ^- . itmfrtboaaiala^loftadvaaiaa^lcel'' ' ' ■•T?5lt'o»e. «Dil«Ur." «hei«UI--ob! hownlcer' r.^SDBBtPwimerally owned nrtcetbat rum." au bOPTortaPX my own lore, ta, tal* I vID tel^craph yffir W»n to the Car. Waltannyictuni. my p«t. with yonrm*." >■], ■iH.tber're •altio^yrt—y«». u>ey "«i imaj LIVING aiTSTERT; OB, THEQLD.HOUSE AT GRA88MERL or 'TATE." "CHBlgrMAa befobe JBI> BEHHID THE rUBTAE*," ETC. CHAITEB XL—cosnxuED. Keanwhlle the horseman rode BwifUyon, and. Mining the thiotc pine forest, dismounted trom Etohorae andenteted It. As he did so a pon- tlier sprang past him—the dog vith a f^vil •'daztiog'after it. The bnntsman's eyes lit ap, and he raised Ills rifle. A stmrp clang, a fierce jelL and the panflieir dropped. The hunter re- loaded, calmfyb^ his naythrongh the onder- growtlL andinelt down beside the dead body, orer which the dog was standing growling, r . "Atflnolur,'' he muttered. " Twill serve to pay for aaother supper when food runs short," ^wi9i a elg^ be took out his long bowie and ^ mm« n»»<r nVinntng it, ocoasicHially paosing ta his task to listen to the howl of the wolves ' and the whiz of the bats. IThen the slcin was ^■•panted from the body he flnng it across the hone's bock, wiped the bowie-knife upon the hig^ thick glass, and once more went on Iiis /'wqr, thehot8eand dog following In his foot- f mtmnm A ffiv half an hnnr'a wAnilArinff ronnd ; strnML .Afts balf on hoax's -wandering round f tUe ttiln part of the forest] the soutary honts- erged at the foot of a low range of liills. A stream In his path.. Calling the dog to his aide and lemovlng the saddle and skin trom the hoise, he Bwnngthem across his arm, and, . ■ p ^ahlng ohMa ia hnah thnt hid the mOUth Ot a t«irrau entered, and threw down the saddle and the'uin upon the floon which was partly cov- eied-with dry grass and nndergrowth. Raldng this together Into a comer, the nuntsman threw Mmaaif downstfull length and closed his eyes. Bnt thongh he had ridden tar and fast, under- gone enongh haidship since he had last lain foil length, to weaiy an ordinary man to death, sleep would not visit blm. and with a weary Bigb he rose and wandered into the open air. ]£eie, standing with his grand, sorrow-marked face towards the faet-faUuig stan, his thoogbte found words, and onconBcionsly he murmured: "Nearly,tvo years 1 Who would have be- lieved it so dilflaalt to forget? It seems a life- time since that abort dream mooked me into a lUse happtn^es. Happy!—ah, was ever man ■hmppUsr? It was heaven on eaith I Now," and he groaned as he looked round at the dark for- "est, the heavy mountains, and the dreary stlll- nesa bxDken.QDly by the-^hard breathing of his dog aiSdltttpT^^t movement of. his horse's hoofs among^the grass—^"now it is lile and iftoctiuei' O Heaven, that I might die! Thou ^ • kifo w es t hofr r haree sought death in a thousand shapes, a thousand forms; thou knowest that Ihddmy hand when I ml^t have taken the life my mother cursed me with, bnt yet thy Marey woiild not end t>y death's own tumd the iglad release trom this never-endlngagony, this severHlylng memory ot the post 1 where Is she iunr,.I wonder? Is she dead? If so, perhaps from one of those stare she looks down and i Wu i Bp * tor ma. For sorely her pitying heart ia|a£ilit b0 glad if hee. senile e; here alone, praving for. deatl twfty her o&Atfjbis^alnBss. O Hand, tf thoaUi " ^ " lumTni ^ ^ muttering lauw 'Ihdist&iGt words^ slowly bock to the cave, and, throwing - upon the bed of fern and grass, once more a^^t sleep. l^ils time it came to Um, and gradually the Unas upon his face softened, his mouth quiv- ered, and he fell into-a deep slumber. Present- ly, however, he tossed trom side to side, and Usllpe moved rapidly, and suddenly with a - groan he sprans to his feet, and with startling ayes and iwtelace cried, while he parted the *mw,fJi^ hair from his fordiead: "Bhe called me! My Hand! I comel—I oomeU-IoomeF' Btfll-eaUfng upon her name, with trembling flngen lie saddled the horse, sprang npon Its book and darted aoiosa tbe plain as u the pral- ■' tto behind him were on fire, and the flames already singeing Us hone's hools. V 'CHAITER XLI. Hay, Death shall wait beside the door, ITor stay, alUioaslL lie look ber o'er.— Kabl,owe. And they lived happy ever afterwards. OLD Faist Taxes. The layB ot the setting son stole through the laoe onitalnsot the slck-roomand fell across the bed'aiui upon the group around. Seated at the head,' looiong more bocmtiful than ever, thongh fMd'UuliSorTOwfnl, was Lady CatlottB Chnd- VlsMi, her ana snminlng the pillow npon which ^iemed tlie Uly-Ilke face of Maud. On the other aide of the bed stood Sir Fielding, his eyes moist, :;Ub lips quivering. The sad years that have i jnnnrn over his head since we saw him last have ■ weighed down his shoulders and turned his gray hair to ^perfect white. By him stands Chud- Isl^ and lAdy Mfldred, both with wet eyee and s uuuwfu lfacee. At a small table leans the physi- otan, pouring out a gloss of medicine. Every mlnnie or so he looks towards the bed and then at his watoh. Noonemovee.and for sometime BO one speaks. Then Sir Fielding walked noise- lessly lonnd the bed and whispered tremolous- ^IXtatheiAiyslelaiL The doctor shook his head. ^ "I cumbt tell whether she is better or worse," be replied In a low voice. "She may lie lite this for days without a change. When it comes, -Sir Fielding, it will be the crisis—the tnming- liolnt one way or the other." "She is so weak," moaned the sorrowing '. father. whUe the teore coursed down his cheek. ' The doctor shook his head r^retfuUy. "She Is, she is," ho said, '^ho could be otherwise with so lonf and waatintc an illness?' ■ Sir Fielding walkedi back, and the physician "Stoleto thetiedside,and bent over tne lovely . .faeethat miditbe atiy angel's before the sun )iiiitBi.8et, and watohed theUps closely. ("Bhe'hBS not spoken—the lips have not mov- ~ eST'lie'aAed ot Oorlotta umously. She shook her head sadly, and whispered bock: . „VNo;.ehehasnot spoken since the night,a month ago, when ahe called for blm.'' ♦ • ■ .• ■ • * ~ The same sun that smUIed npon poor Maud's . wasted faoa lit up the road from London, iind fell In a iHjght, ^orious stream of crimson upon a horseman, who, with the perspirntion pouring from his face, urged, his steed with Insh and spur almost to racing pace. At the foot of n misleading to the next town of Warrinston lie : wbioknned pace—of.. a necessity—and. lifting ' his soft, wide-brimmed hat from his brow, mut- taredv ""Nlghttall before I can reach it What In Heaven'a name possesses me? Am I mad? The people look at me as if they thought mie V.aof 'What am I tearing like a demon along the f mid—what Ah, "us useless. How eanTl i'fasoB with the intense longing the maddenlifg '~dMbe,tDreaab the place? Since the nlghvl heard her oalL the longing has consumed my - goul like flie. If she be dead Away with .thathou^I or I shall be mad Indeed." Havhig reached the summit ot the hill, he oneemoretirged the horse at its full speed. The find, jaded Reed commenced to breathe paln- 'folllf and falter at the bit, and, groaning alond as dder, at last obliged to acknowledge to hlm- aeU that ttie animal could go no farther, pulled up at ttie Udited window of a little oottage and 'dfamormteA While he stopped for one mo- maot, deoldlBg what oonrse to pursue,' the cot- ' loge door opened, and a man walked hnnledly "Ah, doctor, you be oome at last; only Just in tlm«--€aly Jnst in time." Tba hozseman tzmted. and the man. qaoIw^ Ui mistake, touched bis forehead, and, staring ■k tlia loammg staed, said: ^•B ag pardon, your honor, bnt I thought it . vin nie doetor. Wehave sent tor him and the r ■ jgiia uu, for a body as is likely not to need ,^ytlMr on'em, U so he as they dont oome qtdok." ~";',ri>yiiig7"sald the horseman, with-aheaitat- la« look that save place to a groan as his oon- Mtaee reminded him of his duty. ' _.;,.,^Asi^iiig}i dead, sir. I'm thinking that he's '^MtfymBptxip through having.made his mind tip not Cs dfi> tm the parson oomes. He seems '-' %good fait ooeasy—somethln'on his mind loike, ,^9Hddokeepmoaoln'and squeemln'lolke, that ■-Ido %riah toe palnon *ud oome." ■ ■■ ia> iKWumon's head sank, upon his breast, be kxriud at tlie horse and up the rood ' ~ '-.ndwitliaii ImpotleatBiahaald: ■ "I am a deigyman, iny man. l|ytll|rinaD.Uy<ni vriali." :. '■'. 7.." ' •^^ank 'ee. sir." said the mar^ sndeaily.sM 4xDeetimr a .alenyman In'saca -mid-l>espat- te^oi gaiteES. *^rape yonH walk ihfi «ay, HUT?" ^e tesvder tied the bridle of; the hcsse d^inst 'the wooden fence," and tWlowed the into the oottsge. For some few moments the dim light did not reveal the low bed and Hia dying man stretched upon tL and w^ien the traveler saw them he removed his hat and walked towards its head. A woman in the loom at that moment stepped before the can- dle and so thoroughly oliecnred the man's face. When he h^rd the approaching footsteps the dying m«n raised am his dbow and gasped: "Are you the—priest?" The traveler started slightly at the yoiee. "I ani a cieigrman," he'said gravely. "Ab " said nie dying man. "Not a priest. 'What Is the diffetenoe? 'What—matters it? Come closer, Sohl I—I am dying; going taet. Fever—fever, EtBtradon, and—are you Ustening?—^remorse! Bemorsel ;Tis thafs miinf, me before my time. Bemorse!" and, repeating the word again with an accent of agoriy, he fell bacic upon the bed. Tbe travder stooped over blm and tried to see his face—his own had grown strangely moved—but the li^t was still hidden. Free- ently, while the man still lay recovering his strength to speak, and the tiavelerstood watch- ing, the door qp^ed and two persons entered —^ha oleri^man and the doetor. The owner of the cottage hastily explained the state of affairs, and,1x>wlngconrteoaBlyto the motionless fl^mre at the head of the bed, they approached. The doctor, bending down, took the . dying man's hand, tmtatJils tonch he raised hlinself again, and. slowly shaking his head, gasped: "Too late, too late! I—I—want the priest; the priest 1" . ^ At this the traveler drew back, and the priest, who had jnst entered, took his place. "Father!" gasped the dying man, clutching at his hand. 'My son," replied the priest. 'I am dying—dying fast Holy Mary, spore me nntH I have confessed. Father, listen—no. no, let them stay. I want them to hear. I want . Listen 1 My name is I/>tenzo Spaz- zola. Abt who is that?" he gasped, as the trav- eler suddeolv started, uttered a low cry, and bent forward'for a moment. "Nothing, my son; proceed," replied the jiriest, who had not noticed the cry at the an- nouncement. "I—I am Lorenzo Spasola, an Italian " Here he breathed hard, and, looking at the doctor,"sli^ned for him to write. The doctor took out his note-book and wrote down the statement word for word as it Issued from the panting lips. "I wish to confess, before I die, my sins, es- pecially two great sins. I—Holy Mother! Father, I shall die before—before I Write, write. lam the husband of Felise Faustine, who died—was murdered-two years ago in the Black Pool at Gra3.smerc 1 Write 1 write! Quick I Hold me up. I—we plotted to marry her to a rich young Englishman. She was a fiend, a beautiful flend, fond of drink, faithless. I was tired of her 1 Ho a mere Infant at Venice. She lived OS his wife, and, maddened by her bad conduct, he fled from her. I planned this. I followed him to England—followed and tracked him. I forged her ccrtiflcato of death, took it to his house one stormy night. I— Holy Mother, give me breath, spare me—these —few moments. Fclisc, the woman, my wife, traced me bore. She wanted to frighten the money trom the Englishman, who believed himself to be her husband. Sne had heard he was to be married, and gave me the slip; came, tramped down to Grassmere, went up In the storm to the groat house on the bill, saw him, got—him—to walk into the forest with her. I followed.and watched, watched them together In the soaking rain; saw him give her money. Waited till he had gone"—here the man's voice grew excited and harah—"tracked her foot- steps, and"—rising in tbe bed with uplifted arm—"ran my stiletto through her bosom 1" The priest startod, tho doctor turned pale, bnt tho figure at the head ot the bed stood like stone, immovable, motionless. Tbe dying man with another effort raised himself,and, fixing his fast-glazlngcyes upon the priest, continued, more faintly and wiUi greater dilBonlty: "I emptied her pocket of the gold, and—and dragged her body to the pool, then tramped back to London and hid. I know I vras safe," be went on, a cunning leer distorting his livid loce. "I Imewthat they would flx the little bus- iness on him, and—ah I oh I they, did, the idiots. He could not commit murder—though he flred on me once. They offered a reward lor his ap- prehension ; he hod fled the night ot the mur- der, thinking the woman was his rightful sposa, but they could not take him—no. no, Lucien Is too fleet, too swift, to be tracked by i]i slow'doge 1 fbther.thatls all. .Tonh^vo all, doetcgpf^Jgg^iir ilie paper— aid vrith ho£^| 3 jrtiile t he . .tj.piood - stai _it|iiiined bis nanM^ the Inst letter sank on the" bed, struggling for the last gasp: Tbe priest hastily wrote his name as witness, and the doctor his, then looked up and said: "Is there any other witness?" The traveler, as It awakening from a trance, stepped forward. "One more," he said in hoUow, broken tones. "May I ask your name, sir?" said the priest "Maurice Ihuant," replied the deep voice solemnly. As its toriAs reached the dying man's eara he sprang up m bed, and with staring eyes point- ed h(s lean, quivering finger at the dark, som- bre form. That's him I" he shrlekod In agony. "That's him—^Luden—Maurice—como at last I knew he would. He hoe come to take me away 1" With a long, despairing wail the blood-stain- ed soul of Lorenzo Spa^la flod from its mis- erable tenement "Maurice Duiantrciled the doctor, starting to his feet "Aye, Maurice Durant, sir," said the traveler sternly. "Take charge of that confession, sir, as yon would your own souljCind follow mo to the nearest magistrate. Sir Fielding Chiches- ter," and, dashing out, he leaped upon the Sriesf s horse, which happened to be nearest le door, and sped away. The doctor, bewildered and halt frightened ont of his life, got upon the other and galloped after. • ■ • • • • • • Maud's fair face etlU rested upon Carlotta's soft bosom, the loved ones still stood watching around the bed. The sun sank, tho room grew dork, the shaded lamp was lit and the doctor grew anxious. "The crisis is coining," he said—"coming quickly. H—If " "If what?" said Sir Fielding, almost mod with grief. "If she calls for anyone, and he or she is not hetr; or cnnnot tie produced, I cannot answer for the consequences." Sir Fielding groaned. They'thought that Heaven bad taken her, but Cariotta still held her against her bosom, and suddenlv the large eyes opened and tho lips sent fortn a low, wailing cry: . "Maurice! Maurice!" Before it had died away the door opened noiselessly and a toll, mud-bespearod figure, with white face and flashing eyes, sprang to- ward the bed, thrust Cariotta away, and, clasp- ing the lovely form to his breast, murmured, with a flood of teara, in a voice broken by solis: "Maud—my dorilng—am here 1" She fixed her eyes upon his lace with a glad Bmile, find with an effort placed her white arms round his neck, and, leaving her face upon his btenst, murmured: "I knew Heaven wonld send yon, Maurice—I knew Heaven would send yon alive!" • • • • • "Live 1" exclaimed the doctor, half an hour afterwards, as ho grasped Sir Fielding's hand and wrung it nearly off in a vain attempt to keep the unprofessional tears back—"of course stao will. There's no earthly reason why she shouldn't live ts be as old as vou or I." • • 9. • • • We have a suspicion that aU we say after this our readors will pemso somewhat impatiently, "When a man's talc Is told," s,-iys an old j^rov- erb, "he should go and hong himself ;"'but wo feel within our heart that, though very near our end, there is still a vestige ot our tnsk left un- finished, and novelists have their idea of dnty as well as other men. Let us, then, in almost as few words as we have needed for our apolo- gy, assure our readers that the doctor's word groved trneVand that Maud Snrant 'with her usbond and a sweetrtboed copy of herself, can be found at dther the Iteotory or the Hall all the year round. The Betzeat, too, the home ot Chudlelgh— not yet Baion, thank Heaven, Sir Fielding be- ing OB well and as hearty as ever, having changed little save In transferring ois love for his books to his little golden-luibed Maud, vrtio oalls him "grandpapa," and is happier sitting on hia knee than anywhere else—the Betre^ I say, is a well-known plooe, and the Bight Honorable Mr. Chlobester—he ia a great statesman now—and I^y Cariotta ate as well beloved and very neatly as popular as the Dn- ranla.' They have a Drignt-eyed giri and e. Turk ot a boy, who has already fallen In love with his cou^n Maud, and'generally addresses herashlslltaewife. The former ownera ot the now vanished FoUy have taken their wealth' to a well-known wataring-plaoe, at which their two daughtera, each "my lady" now, are the reigning queens. Master Tom has married the barmaid at the "Atnsley Arms"—a showy girl, whose chief reo- ommendotlon -to him was ber e^eme wef^t and confldenoe, and he has managed to win a small handicap at a well-known race-me^ing. Ot ooniseMr.GtegBonoat blmoff wttha^S- Uiig wiapped np in an anathema, and bis moth- er and suiera are not allowed to hold any oom- mnnleatlan with . him. But he does not oars a "pony" fOT that, be'says, onddealares be Is happy In his own way. And, after all, no one ean be more tfaaa that hi this world. " Ctaprilbitr'RBr* ainstrel^—Senttnwiital Ballads—Comle Songs—Theatrical Jotes—dreas Bemlnlstences— a: lL :?..'. .: :. ; ^ ; OM PUTbUls^BanJo Eccentricities, Etc waiTTx:c An oou.ated tob thx nv vou curPEB. TItE CIKCrrS SXD.,VSON. FIrnti A.ppea,ranco or the "Wonderful K'IprIco In hiM I>arln(c Feats upon tbe Flylnfl; Steed. At this, tbo season ot tbe year when tbe circus blossoms, wo toko pleasure I You see him, above. In the midst ot his principal act, and you will tie good in presenting to the patrons ot TH£ ClippebTabieties an exhibition T7hich I enough to obsorre critically the beauties ol tbl9 portormancv. Be lumps Is at once timely and tremendoos. (Tbe latter word Is used merely out ot respect to the professional proeramme-wrtter. Strictly speaking, there Is nothing tremendous In the periormsnces to which we shall call attention: but custom has decreed that every show ehall haro something about It which Is tremendous, and we accordingly ring In the adjective thus early so as not to forget It.] At an expense which It would not be wise to mako public, we have secured the services ot the great and only Nlprico, who Is,- without question, the most daring and graceful equestrian the world has ever produced. He Is a monkey, 10 be sure, but that does not detract from his merit. It rather tends to make him more attractive. The teats ot this ape ore simply appalling. He does some things which neither Boblnson nor Fish nor DockrUl ever thought ot doing. In splto ot the rival performances up at GilmorQ'e Oardon, we feel no hesitancy about trotting out NIprico. The Gbeat CABBvma act. Hero we bavo Nlprtco again In his wonUorf ul carrying act. He Is'aaslAted this time by tho promising and precocious young ape known as Baby Shorthalr. It Is announced npon the bills that the Baby is Nlprlco'B son—but this Is not true. Indeed, his father Is not known, and It la a wise ape which knows Its own parent. [Wo trust the meaning horo Will make itsolf ape-parent] However, the ancestry ot the young monkey Is ot no conse- quence so long as ho Is able to ride well. Much tlmo has been devoted to bis training, and be has made wonderful progress In bis protesslon. Pretty uoon yiprico will stand up on bis horeo, and while the latter dashes madly atmut tho arena [he really canters at a very sleepy gait, but ot course It would not do to say so] Kip will take Baby Ehorthalr, and, placing him upon his head [not Baby's head, you under- stand), bo win hold him In that position while the horse continues his mod career [metaphor again], tbe band plays, and the spectators hold their breath In Buapeneo. The only tblng which this wonderful young monkey sbould be taught now Is to shout "Hoop-la!" at the proper times. We think we ehall got him down to this In time. And If wo don't, we shall got a ventrlloQUlBt tor a ringmaster! hlph enough to clear the banners without having them lowered an Inch Moreover, be holds himself, while in tbe air, with remarkable grace, and be always allebtB on the horse's back with such accuracy as to make a tumble an Impossibility. Nlprico is not a tumbler, anyway—ho Is a rider. We would also call attention to the high-toned appearance of tho ring- master, as well OS ot the genttcmon whoso duty It is to hold tho lianners. No ordinary show displays such care In details of this kind. Our assistants always appear In white vests and swallow-tails—except, ot course, Nlp- rico, who wore his own tall—until some Darwinian theorist cut It off. Tbe horse, too, la a model, ot beauty, and, no matter how closo you may get to the ring, there Is no danger ot sawdust flying up and bitting you In the face. That Is one ol the many advantages ot THE Cuppeb VAanrriES. I 'WTliIi BCBET THEE, CIiARIB'EL,.'] SWA.TE JTCJUY MAOEE." -Tp-MT FRIEND W. F. UIWLOR ("BAKXEY THE ODIDE"). CBic BT Joei^H O. Wood ("Dbeb gbbmih ambassador"). iMAt DoUtht Hiss Utflce gave a nrr'Ti. r — —^— Ttie nelxfaDOTB came In van and •U; Bare they I'lned In tbe daneln' ao hiiarty, Bodul. tlie wholo nUlnn did fall I Ulna McKIbtttD Kite nazely got emortliercd. The wind was dsno Imockt out ol me; Bnt the wan that come nearest beta* maithercd Was me darlint, "Swate Jndy Hogeel': CAoriu.—O Judy! the daxUnt, etc. Save tu a', bat that was a dlus- ther— The mln cunt, the wimmln did Kquall; Wbin lliey crawled out ftom nn- tlicr the plnjitfapr Ton'd a-thousht there hid been a iDOir-Dilll San me head*,, wMre enooclt ftlnce the paarty. Bat that makes hot small mat- thcr to me, For, as sare as mo namc'a Uori- arty. Next week I'll wed Judy HSRee I CAorttf.—o Jadyl me doiUnt, etc ru) m a I'tayittiaiif wjwira But she's serWe-bi&^k: ^r^wWrrll: Her flgure 'twoald rlTOl avalDyvz', And her fkce 'tis a picture to we; The tone of ber voice 'twould en- chain ye^ Slie's a darllot, "Svste Jndy Hagee!" CKam. O Jodyl the darllni, tbe beanty. She's Dllsbted ber troth nolo me. If she hadn't I'd thought It me Jewiy To droim meseir Id the salt say I SoR her father's as rich'as a nabob. And HlES Judy she dresses in nthvle; Whin uie plarn od her fertyptanner 3edad TOn eon hear her a mollel Oh, ir I haa the Trealth of the In- ce«« It would be a great pleasore to me To adorn ber wld "Kowccnoor" dlamlnts— Ue dsrlln', "Swate Judy Ha- (wel" Chorus. —O Jodr! the dorllht, elc A. r»XtAMA.TISST RBI'-ir'OIVDS. It we may believe what this gentleman says, the present is the happiest moment of his life. He Is the author ot the new play "A Celebrated Exile," produced tor tbe first time upon the stage of The cl,xppeb YAniznix. Such has been tho enthusiasm of the audience since tho rising ot the curtain that the success ot the piece will be announced In to-morrow momlog'B papers (the ad- vertisements were written three days before) as "Instantaneous and overwhelming." Already the actors and scene-shlfters and Btage-bonds have been called before the curtain; and now, at the close of the third act, amid a perfect thnnder of applause, tbe author hImseU makes bis appearance. Ho Is elaborately dressed, and exhales an odor ot triumph and musk. With one neatly- gloved hand stretched towards the audience and tbe other held to his breast, be begins thus: "Ladles and gentlemen, this is such an. unexpectod oompUmont—It comes, 1 may eay, 00 apontancvubly from your warm hearts [renewed applause]—that I con really find no words to express my gratitude I [He wrote out the speech weeks ago, and has been rehearsing It dally ever since.] That my poor efforts to furnish you with amusement should havo met with so nattering a reception sur]>rlseB as much as It delights me. I can only say tbat this Is the happleet moment of my life—tho very happlestl" Here tho applause breaks out afresh, tho dramatist bows and smiles and presses his hand yet mora Ormly to Ills heart, and then proceeds: "Tbe credit belongs more to the ladles and gentlemen who have Interpreted tho play than to mo, who simply wrote It. [He doesn't believe a word of this, really, but it sounds moRnanlmous, you know, to say so.] I hope that 'A Celebrated Exile' may continue to afford pleasure to all who witness it. Thanking you onoo more, I bid you all good-night!" [Houso shaken with applause.] thing to be a successful playwright I It's a great THJE BCAW THLAT STRUCK BIT.T,Y I>ATTEI*SOW. (Culumc—Xorth-oMreland Boxer, with moncter boxisc-glarm.) DEDICATEO TO BILL'Y McQAN.V. BT JOBS H. OONN'ORS. Shore I am the man that trtxnck Billy I'atteraon, And If he was here I would do It oealD: 'Twoji oaly laat night 1 licked Ra(:«r the hattcr'n non. Oh! when I'm In trim. I con bate any thre« meo. If there'll anyone here that would like tn have a ran At me. Let him step to the trnnt, and put up his "props;'' * If he'« bU; enoagh he needn't Tear tn have a whnek at mo— There Is pleaty ofyei here to shield him Itum the"cop^'' Chorus. Kov, how Is thU for style, oh? (PWt up hU "dulxj" and makes a vats.) .. . Jlatwaltforawhlleago. Till you soe the fancy touches 'without any nbam; There's a "moofte'* under your eye. (Males a pass.) Ho, hat now alDt 1 fly?— Flat up or ehut ap la the kind of a man I am. (Boxes an Imaffinary foe amund the ttaoe. and. In his mim'seye, knodU thejlf/ht alt out of him.) •I was down to Muldoon'a last Saionlay night a week ago. And I had the devil's own time with Patsy Uolnne: I had him in "rhanrrry," and soon mode him nueak "Ohl Bor Bold on, yon'rf kllUng me, let g^mc collar-bone.'* .1 Began*. 1 let uj> on blm. which they oUd waa very kind o' me— Pm a pe.iceable man, and I only box (br Am; - But wlifn you moke me mod, it's then you will find, you'll fiee. Tnu hare tripped acroa the man that Btruck Billy Patteroon. (Chorus at ttfOre.) (£nserMminutivepotteeman,asUt**waUxes*^ him off.) Sneoreverte. Ton ought to fie«Juit BOW, «id flvaof yerpollccmeD, JUt down In tlic sqoare. at the foot of tho Ktnat; One flipped through me bands as If he was a greass man. But the others will nirer apoln gn on their beat; I blacked aU their eyes and broke all thelrnoaes: Faith, It'll be some time, me boys, before they'll feel quite well; And if any of *em should ask you where "me nlbbs" re- poses, Vvu can tell them they'll always find me at the Halifax Hotel. . (Chorus as bfjorc) TJBLE CRUSHED COMJETDIAJV. The causes which . lead men to commit suicide aro sometimes peculiar. For example, here is a gentleman who was - once pure as the beautiful snow, and contented as a trick-mule. Tou see htm now with his own hand raised to take his life. What drove him to this madness? Kot wine, not women, not rahypothecatlon. not any phyalol dis- ease. No; our ^end has mode up his mind to die simply because he Is a oruBbed' comedian 1 In the treebnesB of his manhood he yearned for Btoge-honon. He tieUeved that natnra had de- signed him for a comedian—and therain appeared a sll^t mlsnndepstandlng tmtween nature and the snblect ot this memohr. At last the oppor- tunity came for him to make his first appearance on the stage. He swelled ont mognlfioently, but— he was crushed 1 There were groans where he hod looked tor laughter, catcalls where he ex- pected chean, and cabbages where he had fondly hoped for enoouiagement. It was moro than be could stand — especially the cabbages. To be eruBhed as a bacedlan would be bad enough, bnt In oomedy—the very thought drove him wild I With a supply of powder and btiUets he hastened to his room, and there we see him In the very act of emptying the oontanta of a hoise-pistol Into his mouth—the most BenBlble act ot his life 1 I>KELAAIS OF Tim BYQOWE DAYS. KESFBCTFinXT DIBCRIBBD TO FRAHK E. IiAHB, BT WILL E. If OMDLTT. (AU Btghu aesemi.) When Bhadowi of midnight wemdeep*nlnfcsnand me, Ibeanlthelevdilnissartha And flan was the howl of the keen, wtsBy blast, I dicom'd that the moralDR dawn'd brightlr and Iband ms Again, 'mid the ooenes of yooth, baekin ths past; IfjotdeDtcage homo, with Its root dad In flowen, The ftee of the mother who loved m« oo wtfL Each fond cbetldi'd Mead of my boyhood's bright boon Was with me again m ray vision's Dtkl apaO. Dieamaof tbebrgopedays, sweetmentCTy's iiiBMiis«i T byjoy s ore, thong h many, too flsetlin to lost— Brlogtpgosvlilimi of ouiiuaa and pteaHneit Ot onr 100, haiipy days «tf back in the pasL tin path tfanogh the vDOd I WBi raamlBg, ipplnb adry form dooB by my rida; An^n'neatb the poplar I sat In tbe (loanilBg ITblspad in l U Mtomybopgy Their qPTBiy melndlw rang though the air, ■ -"*-■- t^e sweet Jot itf t£a calm. teoaqaO fcehnK In chDdbood I knelt then in ptajar. And I fait the Dreams of the bjfODe dayi^ etc nie seeoe onlckly changed, and the daxlmsaa was flblUiw, Bobbmg the tamler yomig plaatB Of tlielr htoom. And, afarobdlng the lOT'd oneo, 1 ntnlj was eaning, yor nanght hot ths echoea cams back Uimgfa ths ilooa; A ftsUng of ImielhMBBo'er me cams creeping; Tbe nell of my vtiloa was hnka at last: ITai h iilil ihi iliili'il fiiiiii III ihii 11 1i jgirt sasslaaiilm. ABdmemlyalooebeDadBirbMittotbe ptA DnaaaserttasliygaBadcyil ate. I will meet thee—in the twilight's dreamy spell I will moot tlice— I will meet thee In the cloomlnR, Claribol, Where tho little binis may listen To the story I win tell, Whore the moonboitms over gUston At tho old tryst In tho dell. Chonis. I Win meet thee, I will meet thee, Clartbel, At the old tryst in the doll, Whero tho moonbeams ever glisten. Where tho little bi nds may list ' Titory 1 will t "TtnEo oiu^ei en Story Iwlll tell, And I'll whisper, oa tho songs ot zophyn swell I will whisper: I will whisper while they're singing, Clarlbel, When the silvery moonbeams gUsten, Where tbe woodland fairies dwell. When the little birds may listen. Secrets you must never tell. Chorus. I will meet thee, I will meet tbeo, Clarlbel, At tbe old tryst In tbe doll. Where the moonbeams ever glisten, 'Where the little birds may listen To tho olden, oMcn story I will tell. PhiUut^hia, March, 1878. SOOTT SCOOLiEB. OF Sr* TIME. THE TESTED AS tho various colossal shows which will peram buinto our land durlnf; the Summer montbs are now busy with proparatlons for their tour, U m«y Interest our readers to glance backward some thirty-three years, and see what kind of entertain- ment iheclrcus-manaRersof that period furnished tbe public. The Now York Circus (of which we ap- pend a copy of an advcnisement cut from a local Journal in Portsmouth, N. B., and kindly sent us by Frank P. Rundlett) was considered a flist-class show In those days, and its managers bore a high reputation. Yot, if we compare It with tbe shows of the present day. It appears a one-horse aflhlr. It was tbo custom then, on now, to enter the vil- lages and towns In which tboy were to exhibit In procession. Flrei camo the band-wagon, quite an ordinary affair, and nothing like the glided and gaudlly-palntod chariots of the present day; then the members of the company, attired In ring cos- tume and mounted on plobald horses, and fol- lowed by a few vans containing tho baggage and properties and the tent and |x>le wagons. A halt waa made Just outside tho village for the band to don their uniforms and the pertormera their ring attlro, and to afford tbe "artist" ot the concern an opportunity to give .such of their steeds as were not plobatd by nature that appearance by means of tho paint-pot and brush, for no show could then hope for success that did not possess a large numtier of partl-colored horses. There was quite as much talent and skill displayed by tbo performers then as now; but a single reund-top tent for exhibiting purposes, a email one for the sideshow, and another whldi served for dressing- rooms for the oomiiany and temporary quarters tor the horses, wblcb were generally put up in some llvery-stable, comprised tho entire .canvas outfit. Tbe voices ot the cnndy-butchers and tho peanut and lemonade venders were then heard In the land; but tbey had not then learned tbe trick ot putting pieces of polished glass In the lemon- ade In tho place ot Ice. Ot those connected with the circus' which esblblted May 13, IMS, Henry Bockwell died ot cholera In Cincinnati, 0., In 1819; Otto Hotty and Hons. Co-ssimer returned to Europe: Oscar R. Stone is dead; Q. W. Sergeant retired some years ago: John Qcosin died ot yel- low fever in Natchez, Miss.: Mrs. Gossin retired eoveralyean ago; DanMlnnlch Is In retirement in Bedford Springs, Pa.; Victor Piquet died of cholera In New Orleans, T.a,, In 1S48; Ben Stevens is still before thepubUc. .SEW YORK CIP.COS OF. MEiVRS. ROCKWEU, A STOKE. The rellncd, Crtclsn. athletic and equestrian exhibition of tbe abnre extenjiire enabiirihment will t>e held in ihU t»n-n OX >LAliO.N'S niLL. TUESDAY, THE Urn INSTANT. Tlie proprietonj presume that the popularity of their company and niatclilewi collection of luocth* arc known to tlie citizens or this community, Inannuch as their lonit otav In a nelghtKiriujr city T\-as marked with (Teat furttine, ana the Oivurcd comment of every preni. Tlie folloning are oome of the performers connocteil with this MAONIFICE.NT COMPANY. nERR OTTO .MOTTY, the renowned German Jusisler of Hamhun;, whose feats nf mofdc on honceback, onJ canuon- bali f,*nl!S liiive been the wonder ol all nations In turr,pe and America, and mined for him the naiiioof "The Un- daunted''from the Emperor of Riui.«lx In hii necrriman- tlc feat^, besides throwing nnd catching, with iDcvnceirable rapidity, foor or flTe nuuwive hroM rlnap), bafls and daggem at once, he nrgea the mvllt Fteu^l on which he staods 'Io ItA utmost speed, and executes most wonderons eToloUon.i with acvenil wands. IIU liorvem.iDahlp or necromsncy alone Is myrterloiMly eTcellcnt. and. when they arv com- bined. Fupcrhuman. In hi.H caoDon-ball feaLo lie manlfeins hL<i* quldmesR of eye, great powers of balonciDir and pro- digious stn:Di;tb, thrnwloi; maMire Iron plot>eii. welghlnjr 33 and SA pounds each, hlph loto the air. catching them upon the baiik of his neck, rolling them nrom hand to hand over his shouideni, etc. and flnlsblng byhoiaimc 32 pounds In each band at ann'AlenRth, and twlaoelagaSSapon his chin. UOXSIEUR CASSTMER, thecratest dmmmer In the world, and styled bv I,oubi Philippe, who made him chief dnim-majpr of tbe French Army, the "first drummer of Europe," uls profeasloDa] skill hjas astonished many thonsanas who flocked to hear him In Philadelphia, New York -and Boston, and hi displayed in beatlog npon TWZLTE DRUUS at once, in a rapid and elegant manner, snd npon one drum in his curious and elfectlve lUoatimtloa of the Battle of Wotciloo, when he Imitates the morning. call, the aaoonbly of trooT«, the voUeyv of musketry,' cannonadlDg, the cbaive, retnat, rally, etc. - ■ To glre even atolermhle description of the powers of the other astoDlshlng performen or this celebrated company would oocnpy tkr too much space; aofflce It to say that they were declared superior to any who ever visited'Boston be- fore, and were iavored with oowded houses for twenty- Bereneneneailir w^eks. The names oftbeptlDcipa] ore: oeCAK B. 8IONB,theOt« etpiestilaa rldvoT the Em- pire Stat g. O. W. BEROBAMT, the tamed ShokespeailaB rider. JOHir OOSSIN, the down, snmamcn the'"ar1maldl of Ameriea," H B&OOesnf. tb« vaoy beaotlAil and dutng ftmole ""CrinSwiCH. ailnlataed vaoller and slack-rope artist. C. CHAJinON, tbe celebrated yonthfU doable leaper and double lomeraet thrower. VICTOR PIQUET, the omlnled pualuiei. MASTEB B. BT EVENa, the equestrian pndlgy. ALONZO UUBBE LL. t he AmericaD Sarapoon; and the NUBIAN HELODIBTS. a hand of aecompUshad a«m~ ^H^va. miy faty hoot of g mln a ee oera bcfote equaled Among other cihibltiona mentioned In the jnogrammea and panera of the olrcui will he petformcd an entirely new and snbllme Spanish spectacle, with splendid atceds, aws B uu sly cafrisoned. called th e . ^ AXDAIDSMN ENTRT. ThlagtBDd and n^eaiie piece has been pndaeed with great eare and expense. N. B.—DooiB open at X and 7 o'dodL Petfbnnaace to cxxmmence at 2W and Thi. Priees ct sdmBslorv—Boxes^ acta; pit, IgjetB. ChOdioi half-pries to ho xe a no half .price to pit —Ftor paitlcBlan of the « aae the huge hint, |«n i ai i iiii eB and poemsckcafaiad In tblstowii. FoctsBMOtb, May IMik BtaislBg or Amw»«"«»*^ wamr fob tbw nw tobz ojwo, BT NICHOLAS NILES. .CsBto.tbe FJcat* ' - ■ I. I iins the stage. Ita theme is not a new one, ' And neither Is tbe stanta, as yon'Il tee; «nj yet beyond sU dooht It Is tbe trae one For thlsdramatlc sort of minstrelsy:^ • ■■ ■UjtA ByroD thooght so when he wrote'pon Joan," And what oerml hhn is eood eooogh fbr me. My Muae shall do the very best ahe can, air. With snch a noble theme and famoos otann. n. , Bnt let It first be (bllr nnderrtood ThatthiaisnotarhymeofcrttleUmB, TbewTlter wonldn't write such, If he oonVi, Nor^k to Judge, by lt"«|»J«J The merits of our noim who» histry sbonia Be spared the test of onaly^ng prlmu: The tiuSof telllDjtwhich are"S™ S!i vi.- We 11 leave to WUUe Wlnt«r and Nym Crinkle : m. Wbll* we Shan b* eontent to simply ga». And, gaziog, to eiptwa oar admliBtion; For even in these slandered modem days, Sublccled, as they ar«, to conJemnotlonj. There sdll remain good aetois and good pUys- EBoneh. at least, to oger Inspiration Tohhnwhowoosthe Mujesln ananU^ And has an Inborn taste for things dromallc IT. And never yet did talent on the stage Receive a wider or readier leeoimlUon Than hi this much misepresented ase; An actor who can act, and has smbiUon, Needs only an engogemeot to engage The pnblle ear. and then to win positian; The people are the crIUca, after ell. And by their verdict stan most rise or nn. V. Bywhlch I do not mean to soy that ftond Has never snatched the crown firom hewls desemng. Or that the crowd, at times, does not applaud A charlatan, whose stroneest role is serving The times, when times arc bad: hut theo we land So ihoch that's base ITom lack of close observing— Brass Jewelry, until we find It's brass, A lion, tin his bray proclaims the aaal TI. Upon tbe stsge, as In the wider world, Things often (ret most sadly out ot Joint; Tet men to sudden helgbts are seldom hurled (And here's the moral wblcb I wish to pomt). The tianncr of encccM Ls not imlbried At once, and those who bear It most onobit Themwires with patience and the oil of pluck. And trust to honest effort—not to luck vn. I sing tho Stage, and ask no Iwtter theme— The modem Ktoee, which, spite of some demerits, De»erve«,wltlial, our plaudits and esteem; Which, though traduced and slandered, still Inhents A le«acy so rich that those who deem It pan of their religious faith to shear its Tlme-honored glory, must conrince us first That ^schylus and Shakespeare were oecuned. Vlli. Perhaps they were, bnt not, I'm sure, for writing PTOmetheos or the Melancholy Dane; And Ifa man who spends hLs life inditing The lines wblcb oihera, on tbe stage, explain By cursing, loving, wooing, bating, fighting— If Ruch a one. I say, escapes tho pain Orsulphurous fires in tho dim hereafter. Why ohoulda't they who cause as only laoghtort IX. And yet some truly plons preachers tell as That all who tread tlie boards are surely cnrted; That nochhig, alnce the apple first befell us, IH half so had as acting, and the worst or nil that make-'i Morality grow Jealous Is when she fees how Art Is honored fimt; They paint the stage an evil mort prodigions And claim it's ruinous because It's not rcUgiona Z. Well, let them preach; their vIewB, perhaps, are narrow. But then they labor In a goodly cause— And, seeking always to preserve the marrow. If sometimes they foncet the nat'ral laws By which the fiesh Is ruled-why shoot an arrow To pierce their armor of religious gauzef They seek to save the ship and get the salvage, Tn shape of soulo—a simile ftom TOlmage. XL And. now that I have lotmduced that name, I wMi to clironlcle mr admiration For one who labors wlih so high an aim; Why. Talmage, taken at the valuation Which Talmage places on himself, would ohame The saints of any age or generation I And for his stoce attacks (to quote Mohammet), If yon would aid a thing, let Talmage damn it I XII. But, turning from the Reverend T. De Witt, My wantlerlng Mu^ rmimcs her rightHil them^ A theme so broad that it is surely fit To draw a limit, le^it this rhyme may seem To compaNi all tho world from dome to pit I We'll therefore take New York, and throw a gleam Of light upon hf*T Rtnce—and when I say A gleam, 1 dc not mean a caldum ray. iin. As 1 have said already, there shall be No Kurly crlticlsmsln this verye; We'll scan the theatres with an eye to see How much there's rood, bow much that might be worse; Anil if the Muse shall make a little fireo WItii men and m.ittcrs, ynu will please to curse Tier Indvsblp—for she's alone to blame. And takes alike the K>ur>' and the shame. XIV. New York Ls Justly proud of what she's done In things theatric; and our local stage, Aithousli In ports defective, still lias won Some worthy triiiinnhs, nnd Is fit to wage A war with any rlrol nesth tbe sun t In London they are proper, proud and s.ure; In Paris and Berlin ther'ro much too iwugh^; ^VblIe wc are neither wicked, dull, nor haughty. XT. We're mixed tho elements of many nations. And KOt the very best (and worst) from all; There's not a star that maYn Its iirlft mlcratloiu Bnt wtiat Is euro within our midst to ihll; Alike from lofty and (Wim liamme stations, Thfy answer pcnmpUv to the public call— Tlie benuty of this somewhat novel plan Is, We get a Booth and likewise Count Joanncsl ^**^*"-Kvi; - From oat the multltu JIdoiu amy Oriocal Stan, vhich shloe ^r1th sucb a Iiutre, I miTpow. In a ft-Iendlv Mit of way. To call OD DODie, anu bare them roRi In muster Berofo tlio Muw'B eye: sbo's nnt; tney sny, A critlc—theo her views nlll be thejiuter! Thbt much bv way of prvflice, nnd next week Of TraKvOy. In gcntio mood, we'll Fpeak. LITTLE ACCIDENTS, AjaA I-Xow to rFfcat n^taenk. Bdrs'9 AND ScALDR.—The best remedy for bums and scalds le glycerine. A rageoaked in Itshould be laid upon tho bum. If glycerine Is not at hand, common kltcbvn whitening should be pow- derod and crumbled over tho port till It forms a thick layer, then cotton-wool placed over It. If oltber of tbese remeaios be applied Immediately to a slight bum, they will very speedily eaue the pain, and most likely prevent the formation ot a blister. If a Mister should form, It should bo pricked, and tresh whitening or glycerine laid upon the place. Next to whitening, flour Is to be recommended. The part should be carotully ex- cluded trom tbe atr.and kept as quiet as possible. Tho sore should be dreesed every other day, Fre- <iuent tiandllog will Injure It. Bnpiiosing the clothes to catch Are, tbe Individual in danger ebould at once throw himself on tbe floor and roll atMut. It people had presence of mind to do this, there would be very few deathe from bum- log. If ho does not do It, his friends ebould throw him down and press upon him any mat or heavy woolen material that tbey can lay their hands upon. If only the atmoepherlc air Is ex- cluded, tbe flame will go out. Tbe natural Im- pulse, is unfortunately, to rush about calling tor assistance, wblcb iierbape arrives too late. A bnm Is more serious than a Bcsid, and It Is more likely to prove dangerous on the chest and body than on tbe face or limbs. Tho danger to life Ilea not so much In its severity as In Its extent. BlEBDINO of THZ N09E.—This Is seldom dan- gerous—indeed. It frequently proves beneficial, except in those cases where It is very excessive. To stop it, let the patient batbo bis face and tbo back of his neck with cold water. If this Is In- effectual, let him raise his face, lift his hands high above hie head, rest them on the wall, and remain In tbls position for a tew minutes. It after a llttio tlmo the bleeding continues with unabated violence, procure medical old as soon as possible. CaoKnio.—It a flab-bone or a portion ot food sticks In the throat, and threatens to produce suf- focation, flrei give a smart blow between the shoulders. Tbls will mostHkely dislodge the sub- sianue. If tho patient can make any attempt to swallow, put a large lump of butter in bis mouth. This will holp the offending subetance to pass down the throat moro easily. If ho cannot ewal- low, put tbe Onger as far down tbe throat as poe- elble, and endeavor to pall the bone or meat out, or tickle tbe throat to produce Immediate vomit- ing. Unless there is prompt action, lUe may be lost. ETT>-aB FBou isszcrs.—Alter being stung by a wasp or a bee, the first thing to bo done is to re- move the Sting. Tbls may be done wltb apalrot small tweezers, or the sidce of tho wound may lie pressed with a small key; and ao It may tie squeez- ed out. Then apply to It Immediately spirits of camphor, sal volatile, or turpentine; or, failing these, rub It with a little common salt, or a little moist tobacco or snull. It a wasp or bee stings tbe throat, a little turpontineshould Immediately be ewallowod. If tbo place swells very much and looks Inflamed, It sbould be bathed with amica, or have a hot white-bread poultice laid upon it. Tho amIca may be made by mixing twenty drops of tho pure tincture with half a tumblcrfulof water. FOBEION 8DBSTANCEB IN THE EAR.—If an Insect gets Into the ear, hold the head on one side and nil tho hole with oil. This will kill tho Intruder and cause it to float, when it may bo removed' If a bead or a pea gets Into tbe ear, hold tbe bead' down on tho other side, so that the occupied ear Is under, and give the other ear two or threo sharp blows. It tbls lolls, the ear should be syringed, but It should on no account be poked as that Is almost sore to do more barm than good' FOSEIOK SiTBSTAltCES IN THE NOSE.—Ofve a small plncb ot snuff, and endeavor to moke the patient sneeze. If this talis, put one finger alwve tbe subetance, and gently press It to moke It oome down. At tbe same time put a small pair ot tweezers Into tbe nostril, and gently openlt across. It may then be poaslble to pass a b^kln or some similar article past the tweezera. and draw tbe subetance ont. If this falls, go to the surgeon. FOBEION BDBSTAHCBB UT THE BkE.—Take bold Of the eyelash and draw the eyeUd genUyontbe edge ot tbe eye. It this U not eoeetnal. ^ooe ths eye, draw tbe eyelid away from It. and xtaaTm. ^S^J^.I^^^'^^,?^ across the Inside of It, and tbns bring tbe obnoxious matter to the oorner, when it can be eaaUy removed. Ii a uttto bit of iron gets into tbe eye, a strong magnet may draw f t out. If a utue piece of qoTckllme enten It—wblcb someUmes happens trom standing near a bnlldlog where lime Is being Blacked—not onlr BjuBt It bo taken ont InstwiS?. mS be washed Inside and ont with vinegar and watsr tor ball an hour after, or loss of slgSt may eSlM. jABBDTCEn. JABBDIOB.—It woold have pleas- ed Charlee Dickens to know tbat anotber move baa been made In tbe great "Jennens case wblcb be ImmortallEad niuler the name of ••Jun. dyoe a^lnst Jamdyoe." A genUeman who tor the last twenty-eeven yean baa been engaged In tbtooompUeated Inquiry baa Issued alSSSeM and pedigree; tnm wlileh It appears tbat Mr EUsha Martin of London and Mr. Isaac HutlnTtf Colcbeeter mo, leapecUvely the heir-at-law^nS next-ot-kliLof the.SjtollBoof uSSS^JST,^ lly. Tbe value of the peiBonaleolate lnm^«STn the case is eetlmalea MtlSS^OOoIaiS ««ato rental at $2J100.0(O a year. . ^ THE lilON ^UEE;\J A STOET TOLD Df A MADHOCSE. ■ ailltM »0« THBSfEW TOBX CUFTaa, BY CELABLOTTB X. STAM.ET. "It to a tale Told by an Ulot, fbll of sound and (ury, BtgnlAIng—nothing."—HtcBErs. •• 'A. safe place r Tee, yee—It is a safe place I deed, and meet eeourely guarded. If It were I /should not long stay here. I wish you couldT!:! tbe windows of my room—the bare are thicker u^l myvrrlstl And oboervetho wallsaiouDd HIsibJI den—how high and smooth they aro—noonecoul find the least crevice or portmdlng stone wheitS P toholdorcUmb. Not tbat It would do any good tL climb over; for on tbe other side are great aiteil traps, such as tbe Weetem bunteis use tor wolnl and bean; they lie there, with ibelr Bibienifcl rows of deadly toeth wide open, ready to snap aul close upon any foot tbat touches tbem. Theeeuil for the fools and madmen who might seek togoorel from this side, for"—dropping ber voice to a eotl fldentlal whisper—"there aro nod people ttrfX Then, tieblnd tbe trape are ranged lonprowgi;! monstrous cannon, pointing In the opi>osiie dlretl tlon, and keeping off all persons from the oau;! world who seek to enter here. By-the-bye '_(nj.| denly seizing my arm, and storing into nyejiil with an eager, curiously Intense gazo—-you cam I trom ouUldo. You must have seen them, ml they large—the cannon? Are tbo steei-tranl strong? Aretbelr great teeth flcrco andstarprl And she gnashed ber own with a sort of relish, a I she waited for my answer. | "Cruelly sharp—terribly strong," I told h«,l humoring her disordered fimcy. "But are none Inside here?" Bbe laughed out—loud and discordantly. "Better than that 1 Better than that!" said cai» I estly. "At nlgbt savage lions roam about ihwl grounds, devouring all Intmders. Ha, ha. bi.1 ha I I wish my enemies would come in the nigbtl so tbat tbe lions could eat them I I could pi oir,| into the world again then, and And my bahyil grave. Tou see ," ber wild eyes sottenea.! and her voice took a piteous, wistful too»-| "you see, if I could once lie down upon mydar-| ling Iiaby'e grave I sbould be able to KleeiMil sleep long and sound and sweetly. I can't 8ln[l here the noise ot the lions' roaring disiutttl me so. Mot but what I like to boar them, toaj for then I know I'm safe. I He awoke almost tlx| whole night long listening to them. Did you ernl bear a Hon roar at night? It Is a terrible aoundl —long—hollow—solemn—fearful—it makes thel blood run cold. Mot mine: for I have been eel used to hoar tbem—they are like old friends lol me. IwasalJon'Queenmyself.you know.once."! Poor souU The professional instincts ot btti life survived the wreck of reason, and even itl madness she could still assume the air ot do^I chalanca with' which she used to bow to ber shud-l derlng audience after having astounded ihtcl irith some blood-curdling feat. She uttered tboitl last words quietly, with quite an indiffomnt altl and tone, but accompanied them with a keen eldt,! glance at mo, as If to note their effect. I "Tou'U bear a Btnuge story it jou can matil her talk," Doctor L had eald to mo. "Bill It's Just according to ber mood. Several weekil ago a reporter asked ber to give him herhlstoirl for tbe papers.. She took deadly umbrageatthai^l and has tieen reticent with strangers ever sinccl Perhaps If you tell her you are an actress it wul please ber." I I resolved to profit by tbe bint. I put on a look! of great surprise and admiration. I "A Idon Queen I" cried I. "Is it indeed posal-l ble? Tbat seems to constitute a sort of bond he-1 tween us, for I also am connected with the suige,"! She became Interested at once, though evident-1 ly suspicious ot me, and put me tbroughaetrici course of questioning. I was surprlse<l to ilnl ■ her discoursing about theatrical matters like il sane person—but for her recent extmordlnaiT I statements about man-traps and guns and lloni, I I should have begun to doubt the tact of her hfr I Ing crazed. I Becoming convinced, apparently, of my claim) ■ to be considered a member of her beloved pro-1 teaslOD, she received me Into her favor, and tin-1 bent to me most graclonsly. I "Tou have heard the sad story ot my lite, oil roiiTse?" she said. I I answered, somewhat timidly—not tecliof I quite sure ot my ground, Indeed—tbat "I took her I (to be that unfortunate celebrity whoso fame and I iliMB* we lerortomwu tn mV »<iiW " JLjiAtilM mention that said "unfortunate celebrlty"exlated | only In my own ImnglnaUon; bnt, Beelng quickly that this ambiguous and mysterious mention ot ber was approved of, I ventured tosueeeat that' erroneous Ideas concerning her might have gol abroad, and tbat she could easily empower me " contradict them. "That Is to say. If you do not object to telUng me the true circumstances," I added. "Certainly not. Why should I waC speak to a sister protesslonair' she said, apparently as grave and as sane as myself. "Indeed, your sympathy will comfort me. Hitherto I have found no sym- : pathy In any human being, so I seek it In tbe '■■ voices ot my Hons. They are my own Hons, you ' know. Often, In the long, dreary night, I cry ont i to thorn throufth my wlndow-ttars, and they know i my voice and answer back again. There arsj I three of tbem—•Death,' •Terror' and ■Olory. Tbere was a loorth—'Nero'—but he Is dead, ■•I>eiul—by my hand. Poor Nero 1 But you can' not blame me—his great Jaws, and all bis tawni mono, were red and soaked with blood. U; lover's blood 1 O QodI I had wished tor mj cmel enemy's death—nay, I had planned It; bu^ when It come, when I saw him. cold and Ufeleei, crushed and torn—a mere bleeding, mangM mass of flesh and bone, beneath thoee temhli paws—Ob, <A0> all enmity and anger passed awsr I forgot that he bad wronged me; I forgot that I had bated him, Maurice I Maurice 1 I lemem' bered only how madly I bad loved you then I "So madly that. In my girlish days, I gave up ol —home, parents,friends,forAfisake. Anlnnoceai country girl, not a contented one, tor the dull rou- tine and quiet of my life waa wearisome to my In- patient spirit. I craved excitement and chance. There came a circus to our vtUage, and remalneil three days. When It left I also left my home. I had abandoned all I should have prized to foUo* the fortunes and live In the love ot—Maurice, tbe lion-tamer. "Heavens, what a man I Could yon have sees and known blm you would have pardoned me. Not twice In a Ufeilma do we see such a demigod. What wonder that he fascinated me? And not b« only—the etrange, wild life delighted me; and the Hons—ah, the lions I—charmed me .from tho lliat with a subtle, powerful spell. "Tbe noble, the beautiful creatures I I noRf wearied of watching them. So calm, so grand, M terrible they were; moving with slow and statelT tread to and tro. In grtkcetul, teartnl, sinuous oo- reet, or lying couched In the superb grsndenr of repoee. I would stand by their cage for houB, looking at the lithe, majestic, splendid forni*- the mooalve Jaws, the great, grave, yeUow-irtaed eyes, so clear, so steadfast In their royal gaze, toll ot unquenchable fire, of IneOablo disdain, aM yet with a aolemn. awful sadness in them,snchai one sees In the eyes of a prisoned eagle, sucb » a captive king might feel goxlng In mournful majeety through prison-ban to a tree world be- yond. Ob, glorious conquered monarcbs ot tut Junglel bow many a time has myhnmiuibean ached sore with eympathy for the wlstfnl, speodi- leas ongtiiBh and never-to-be-answerwl yeamlaf that spoke to me In the stem and sad regards o( your beantUul golden eyes I "Maurice was like his Uona—powerful, massin- grand, tieautiful ae tbey; and sometimes alm^ as fleroe—his step was as firm as their soverelfa tread, his eye as Imld and bright, without their sadness, and his tair, curling hair was of a tawnT golden color, like Mero'e royal mane—Mero n< tbe youngest of the lions, as well as the bsBil' somest and least flerce. "Poor Nero I It was through him wo becaiw acquainted. I had lingered tiehlnd on that tuf' afternoon at the circus, and stood alone tiesli* tbe cage admiring him. Suddenly a voice aali' Bbarply: " 'You sbould never put your hand upon IM bars, my girl!' and my band was quite rougbll pushed away. I turned, and recognized tbo lloa- tamer, clod In an ordinary street-oostume, bot looking no less striking and splendid than he hod done In tbe cage. Mowrhad It Iieen any commoa place stranger who addressed me, I sbould cer- tainly have gone quietly away, but at sight ot itt man on extraordinary inclination to speak to hlo came over me; so I said, shyly, and with a beatUK heart: . _ "'Why not? They seemed veiry genUe with yoa —" you, wasn't It, who went into the eager "He nodded cateleealy. his bold, handsome ej« fixed on my face. " "They know me,' he said. 'That's different' "I said no more; I could not, with those eye< upon me. Neither could I raise my own, but 1 felt my cheeks aflame. He leaned his elbo* against the cage, and stood watching me. a>o TOU like Uonsr he asked preaenUy. 1 never saw one natu to-day,' I answered' •I Uilnk them beaotUnl. glorlons creatures. I wlah I ootUd stroke that one?' "I pointed to Nero. The lamer laughed aloud. "Ton would not daiel' ha ozelaimad; thea. suddenly changing: •But, If yon dart, yon abaU do It. Oome. what do yon aavt^-dare ronf "I was a headgtronc gIri. To dare me to any- thing was to Insum my atumptlag It at all risks. ?»wly npA Into hIa boU eyea. •V^Iry mo,' was oil fanswerad. -h?^ S^!!?*?«"' towny, splendid brute, who bad been IjVag down, arose u his masier'a Tploe. yawned, stretched hto miahty limbs, then shook himself, and eune, •^TiLw. maJeMU tteod, np to the ban, and mbbad bis mosslrs head against them, kaniloe sat in his hand, ajad. taking mm genUy blrtSi eSr, fondled him iiae a dog. " "Now,' said he, with a amlle, let'* ■ee what you dan do." "Oh, how my heart quaked I But my blood wa* np and made me reckleas ot oonseqaencea. At that moment I wonld almoM have ehoaen u> Ue* my band rather than to ai»w,i« whUa those laugh- Ing eyes were on me. I spoke to the lion soniy, nnavliigl y, and snooeeded In ~to>»in | f his eye. »-!.'5?'?'ll.'5i'* ^ '"xw Weral Oooa fjuowl Ana with wildly bflliig baattl aetnally slipped my trmnWIng hand tinv>n»fc ttui ban, and poMed- the noble iiifiiiiu'a «~rrrbitai —^ flowing mass. He perm itted It qnletly. ITever moving his glo*' ing eyea from nine, im '*f^'» a pimiV" pnir