Welsh Newspapers
Search 15 million Welsh newspaper articles
10 articles on this Page
Hide Articles List
10 articles on this Page
Jonathan Bradford's Confession.
News
Cite
Share
Jonathan Bradford's Confession. About dusk on an evening late in the October of 1736, a gentleman on horseback, attended by a mounted servant, rode up to the Packhorse, a large and comfortable old Oxfordshire inn on the road between London and Oxford. The Boniface of the hostelry was one Jonathan Bradford, a man of unex- ceptional character, who had kept the house for several years. After the fashion of land- lords in those good old days, mine host of the Packhorse came out, beaming and smiling, to welcome his guest, who was evidently, from his appearance, a person of consequence. The traveller was, in fact, a gentleman of large fortune named Hayes, who was jom-neying to Oxford to visit a relative in residence at one of the colleges. of the colleges. After dismounting and banding his horse over to the care of his servant, Mr. Hayes was shown into a comfortable room, the only occupants of which were two gentlemen who were travelling like himself. In those days Englishmen on their travels fraternised much more quickly than they generally do now, and Mr. Haves, finding his fellow-travellers agreeable companions, readily assented to the proposal that they should sup together. Warmed by mine host's generous liquor, Mr. Hayes became communicative, and when the landlord came in to ask if there was any- thing more he could do for his guests before they retired to rest, he was telling his com- panions confidentially that he was taking a large sum of money with him to Oxford. In due course, after the usual night-cap," the three travellers withdrew to their bed- chambers. The two gentlemen whose acquaintance Mr. Hayes had made were old friends, and occu- pied a double-bedded room. It was customarv among travellers at that time, when staying in a strange inn, to keep a candle burning all night in the chimney corner. The occupants of the double-bedded room in the Packhorse followed this practice. In the dead of the night one of these gentlemen awoke suddenly, and as he lay awake he distinctly beard deep groans, apparently proceeding from the next room. He sat up and listened. The groans were repeated, and there was something so suggestive of mortal agony in the sound that the listener slipped out of bed, softly awoke his companion, and bade him listen. Again the groans were repeated, but they were fainter than before. Startled and horrified, they looked at one another in silence for a moment, then the first who had awoke said, ""Tis a man dying, surely. Let us go and see what it means." So saying, he took the candle which was burning in the chimney corner, and the two of them stealthily opened the door and stole into the passage. The door of the adjoining room was ajar, and they could distinctly see a gleam of light streaming through the open- ing. They pushed the door open and entered. The sight which met their eyes was enough to appal the stoutest heart. On the bed lay the body of a man weltering in blood, and standing over this ghastly object was a figure with a dark lantern in'one hand and a knife in the other. As they approached, the figure turned its face towards them; on the ashen-grey features was stamped an expression of mingled horror and terror, which seemed the very reflection of their own feelings. As the trembling guests advanced they noticed that the band which held the kife was red with blood, and their consternation reached its climax when they discovered that the bleeding corpse upon the bed was that of the fellow-traveller with whom they had supped but an hour or two before, whilst the figure with the lantern and the knife was that of their landlord, Jonathan Bradford. To do them justice, they were brave men and did not lose their presence of mind. They instantly seized Bradford and disarmed him of the knife, the wretch all the while trembling and shaking as though he had been struck with palsy. It was only natural to conclude that this was the terror of a guilty man surprised in the very act of a cruel mur- der. They charged him with the crime and rang the bell vigorously to alarm the house- hold. Then Bradford recovered his composure sufficiently to speak. Gentlemen," said he, with faltering voice, but intense earnestness, "I am no more a murderer than you are. I heard the groans of this poor gentleman-as you did—and, snatching up a knife to defend myself, and this lantern, I hurried here to render what assistance I could. I had not been a moment in the room when you entered, and I found the poor gentleman dead." It was a plausible story, but, nevertheless, the surrounding circumstances were so sus- picious that the two gentlemen insisted upon the landlord's remaining in the room until a constable was sent for. Some time elapsed before the nearest officer of the law could be found and roused from his bed. At last that functionary arrived, and Bradford was handed over to his custody till the morning, when he was taken before a neighbouring justice of the peace. The two gentlemen told their story, and then the magistrate asked Jonathan Bradford what he had to say. The landlord told the same tale which he had given when caught red-handed beside the corpse of the murdered man. But his manner was certainly more indicative of guilt than of innocence and even when denying all knowledge of the murder, there wa? a curious air of reservation and constraint about him, as if he were afraid of saying something to commit himself, which so impressed the magistrate that, as he prepared to sign the warrant for the landlord's committal to gaol, be nsed these remarkable words— Mr. Bradford, if you did not commit this murder, I must have done it myself The circumstances attending the crime and it3 discovery were so singular and sensational that it became the topio of general conversa- tion all over the country; and wherever it was discussed the guilt of Bradford was taken as a foregone conclusion—no one had any doubt about that fact. Yet there was one curious point which was so difficult to explain that it surrounded with something of mystery a murder which in other respects Wss as simply and easily to be accounted for as any deed of the kind well could be. That Bradford had murdered Mr. Hayes was a fact that admitted of no question. It was equally certain that his motive was robbery, for the two principal witnesses— the dead man's fellow travellers-remembered that Mr. Hayes was mentioning that he had a large sum of money with him when Brad- ford entered the room to ask if there were anything more that he could do for his guests before thy retired to rest. It was also indis- putable that the murdered man bad been robbed, for his pockets had been rifled, his gold watch and every valuable he bad about him bad been taken, and not so much a3 a shilling was found either on his clothes or in his travelling valise. But the mysterious circumstance was this: how could Bradford possibly have disposed of his booty in the very short time which elapsed between the hearing of the groans and the discovery of the murder ? It was not likely that, after having secured all the property, to obtain which he had committed the murder, he would have returned to see whether his victim were alive or not Yet nothing what- ever belonging to the murdered man was found upon him, and though the house was searched from top to bottom, not the slightest trace of the money or the watch and other valuables could be discovered. How and where could Bradford have possibly disposed of his plunder ? This question could only be answered by Bradford himself, and the mystery would no doubt be solved when the wretched man made his last dying confession before be expiated his crime on the gallows. But meanwhile the problem remained a puzzle, and whetted the public appetite for the revelation which might be expected after- the trial and sentence; for that the prisoner would be found guilty no one ever doubted for a moment. In due course Jonathan Bradford was tried at the Oxford Assizes for the murder of Mr. Hayes. The evidence of the two gentlemen who had seen him standing red-handed, with the blood-stained knife still in his grasp,"over the body of the murdered man, was taken as overwhelming and conclusive proof of the prisoner's guilt. Nor did the man's demea- nour at any time from his arrest to his trial tend in the slightest degree to lessen the sus- picion of his criminality. His manner throughout was inconsistent with the theory of his innocence. Then, when the explana- tion of his presence in the dead man's chamber came to- be analysed, it was found to be unworthy of belief, for, in the first place, Bradford's bedroom was in another part of the house, so far away from that of his guest that he could not possibly have heard the groans of the dying man and in the second place, the knife, which he said he had snatched up haphazard as a weapon of defence, was a carefully-sharpened carving- knife, which was not at all likely to have been within his reaoh unless it had been purposely placed there, for it was shown that he did not pass through the room in which the knives of the establishment were kept. As to the failure to discover the property stolen from the murdered man, that was a point which had no actual bearing upon the crime for which Bradford was being tried, and, therefore, the judge laid no stress upon it in his oharge to the jury. So long as it was proved that Mr. flayes had been murdered and robbed, that was sufficient; there you had the crime and its motive. What had become of the stolen property was a point which the jury need not take into consideration. Needless to say, that with such overwhelming evidence against him, Jonathan Bradford was found guilty and sen- tenced to death. It was taken for granted that the con- demned man would make a full confession before his execution, and in that respect public expectation was not disappointed. Jonathan Bradford did make a confession to the clergyman who attended him in his last moment; but the confession, strange and startling as it was, threw no light whatever upon the mysterious disappearance of the property stolen from Mr. Ilayes. Yet in all the annals of crime we do not know of anything more extraordinary than Jonathan Bradford's dying statement. lie confessed to the clergyman that on hearing Mr. Hayes state that he had a large sum of money with him, he at once conceived the villainous design of murdering and then robbing him. With this intent he stole in the dead of night to Mr. Hayes's room, but, on entering, to his amazement and horror, he found that he bad been forestalled. The deed had been done, and the man whom he intended to murder lay in the last agonies of death before him. Stooping down to make sure that he was not dreaming, the knife dropped from his hand upon the body; when he picked it up it was covered with blood, and it was just at that moment that the two gentlemen entered the room and discovered him in this equivocal position. This confession, if true, left the murder a greater mystery than ever. The general impression, however, was that Brad- ford was pattering with the truth, and that he had not the honesty and candour to make a clean breast of his guilt even with the certainty of death before him. But he went to the gallows without making any further sign, and still the curious, who love to dwell upon such ghastly puzzles, asked what had become of the money and valuables stolen from the murdered man. That question, however, was destined to be answered in a strange manner, and from an unexpected quarter. [Eighteen months after the execution of Jonathan Bradford, far away from Oxford, in the extreme south of England, a man lay sick 'unto death. He asked that the nearest clergyman might be sent for, as he had something on his mind of which he wished to disburden himself before he died. The minister came, and learned from the lips of the dying man his secret. It was this :—He had been body-servant to Mr. Hayes, and had accompanied him in that journey to Oxford which had ended so tragioally. Knowing that his master had a large sum of money with him, he resolved to murder and rob him at the Packhorse. Having stabbed his master, as he thought, to the heart, he rifled his valise of the money, took the gold watch and snuff-box and other valuables from the pockets of the breeches and waistcoat, then quitted the chamber not two seconds before Bradford entered, and fled to his own room. No one ever suspected him or asked him any questions; it does not even appear that he was called as a witness at the trial, or, if he were, his evidence was not considered of sufficient importance to be reported. For Bradford's guilt seemed so palpable that the possibility of another person being concerned in the murder never occurred to any one. The real culprit, therefore, thus safe from detection, was enabled to cheat the gallows; and his secret would have remained undiscovered had not the tortures of remorse wrung it from him at the last moment before he passed into the eternal silence." — Licensed Victuallers' Gazette.
[No title]
News
Cite
Share
It is a curious fact that when men go on the loose they generally get tight." Fortunate Legatee: Ah, Maria, now that money's been left us we're able to give the kids a powerful fine eddication. Ain't it pleasant to see 'em takin their ice cream out o' spoons in the proper way, 'stead of suckin' 'em up like Yankee drinks ? H Whatever became of that tall haudsome valet of yours, Lord Noodleby?" asked Alias Hobbs. 11 Oh, I had to dischawge him. Strangers would mix us up, ye know, and take him for Lord Noodleby, and me for the valet," returned the peer. Oh, dear me!" said Ethel. "And doesn't that prove the truth of the old saying, 'Never judge by appea- rances At a school examination "stability" was de- fined as the cleaning up of a stable." What comes next to man in the scale of human being ?" inquired the examiner. "His shirt," was the reply. Asked to give the distinction, I if an V, between a fort and fortress, a boy nicely defined them—"A for is a place to put men in and a fortress a place to put women in." A teacher asked a very juvenile class which of them had ever seen a magnet. A sharp urohin at once said be had seen lots of them. Where ?"' asked the teacher, sur- prised at the proficiency. "In the cheese." Being asked what conscience was a boy re- plied, An inward monitor." Asked what a monitor meant, the ready answer was "An ironclad vessel."
Advertising
Advertising
Cite
Share
CADBURY'S COCOA has, in a remarkable degrea those natural elements of suitenanoe which give the system endurance and hardihood, building up muscles and bodily vigour, with a steady action that renaer it a most acceptable and reliable beverage. — Health. *}
A Mystery Solved. ---------------.
News
Cite
Share
A Mystery Solved. I vill play not von note more, not von leetle note." There had been a strike at San- ford's Dance Hall, or, as he termed it, theatre, the only place of the kind in E city, a small mining town not far from that of Lead- ville. In one end of a low, rambling building had been erected a rude stage, the sides boarded off to serve as dressing-rooms. At the other end was a bar where Sanford him- self presided, and with the assistance of an over-grown, red-headed boy dispensed liquors. There were a few rooms above, the only ones in the town strangers might have for a night's i lodging, so that the building was also termed the hotel. Business bad been dull owing to the failure of the Little Giant mine to pan out, conse- quently the men of the place bad little money to put into Sanford's coffers. With prover- bial obstinacy, things had been going from' bad to worse with the proprietor, and his late i stage attractions had been succeeded by others still lower in grade, and with a conse- quent reduction in popular prices," This week, to amuse his twenty or thirty steady patrons, he had been able to secure but three people-two actors and a musician, who drove silence from the place through the medium of a miserable excuse for a piano. The first two mentioned travelled as man and wife, and the programme they presented in- eluded such attractions as the following:— Song and dance by an antiquated black-face comedian, one of the old school," whose jokes and dances were received with as sober faces as those of the artistes (?). themselves. After this futile attempt to arouse the audience from their apathy came a singer of the feminine persuasion, who bad oertainly attained that age at which the French Government pensions her ballet dancers. Following this came an Irish song and dance by an artiste whose figure and man- nerisms reminded one of our minstrel friends. However, Sanford had said there were three actors in the company, and as he had the deputation of being a bad man and a read shot, his word went unques- tioned. One evening, half an hour earlier than that set for the performance, there was trouble behind the scenes. There had been no money coming from the manager's pockets for two weeks, and Signor and Madarue. De Cona, as the two styled themselves, refused to appear. For ten minutes there were hot words between the proprietor of the theatre and his company, when a compromise was effected by Sanford pledging his people the receipts of that evening. It was at this juncture that the sole representative of the orchestra in this temple of art spoke np. I will play not von note more till I haf my money. Not von leetle note." The speaker was a German, of that type that misleads one in believing them Spanish or Sicilian until their tongue is heard. Tall and slender, with curly black hair, and with eyes to match, behind gold-rimmed spectacles, he appeared in strange contrast to both per- formers and audience here. He looked to be about thirty years of age, and was always dressed like a gentleman, which fact alone had given him no little annoy- ance. No one knew from where he had come; but two weeks before the occurrence of the scene described in this narrative, he had applied to Sanford for his present position, and, as it was then vacant,. he had been imme- diately installed. He had made friends with no one about the place, remaining in his room nearly all the time. The name he had given was Otto Heimer, and his baggage con- sisted of a small valise and a black leather case containing a violin. No one had heard him play this instrument, however, and its existence had slipped from the memory of the few idle, curious miners, who were lounging about the entrance of the tavern when he had alighted from the stage two weeks before. The red-headed boy, before alluded to as the assistant dispenser at the bar. had asked our hero why he didn't bring his fiddle out and play," but the answer had been "My violin is a lady; this place is not fit for her." That a refusal to work on the occasion referred to at the opening of this story should come from the musician proved a complete surprise to Sanford. There was an ominous look in his eyes, and when the statement was repeated he drew a revolver, and, putting it to Heimer's head, said with an oath, You will play if I say so." It was no time for argument, and the per- formance passed off as usual. But the pianist looked gloomy, and anyone with an ear for the musio must have felt that a smothering volcano was next the instrument. Business revived a little that evening, and when the place was cleared Sandford invited his assis- tants to come up and have something." The two vocalists did not need a second bidding; but Heimer, pleading illness, retired to his room. The something'' amounted to a great deal. The two actors and mine host became hilarous, and an hour after the close of the performance in the hall one would hare sup- posed a German saengerfest was being held there. All three were singing and shouting, and to those who had witnessed the disturbance in the "green-room" early in the evening it appeared that the matter had been amicably settled. This, iu fact, was the impression Sanford most desired to give, and was really his object in effecting a temporary reconcilia- tion. There was a great uproar in camp next morning. Sanford had been found dead with a knife in his heart, and, though the man was little liked, still, on the frontier, murder does not go unpunished. The fundamental law, "A life for a life," is always enforoed. So the first question the excited men asked each other was—"Whodid it?" A coroner's jury was hurriedly organised, with old Jim Reeves at the head. That morning, when the bartender bad opened the ahuttere of the room he had found Sanford's body lying out on the floor in a pool' of blood. He testified that he had left the bar-room late the night before, but didn't know the ex tct time. Every one had gone to bed but Sanford, himself, and the two actors, as he termed the man and woman who had amused the crowd the previous evening. He had thought that Sanford was trying to "make up" with them after the quarrel that had occurred, and he said that all three were intoxicated. This testimony cast suspicion on one of the two, and forthwith a posse of men went in search of the husband to learn what he had to say for himself. The knife in the body was one no one in the camp had seen before. It was of curious work- manship and evidently of foreign manufacture, having the mark of a Vienna outlery firm en- engraven on the blade. Our comic man was brought in between his two captors in a very pitiable plight. Not yet sobered from thenigbt's debauch, he looked about the crowd of men in a dazed sort of way. Questions were put to him several times before he could answer them, and even then his replies were senten- tious and innuendoic. After much question- ing and beating about it was learned that the knife belonged to "the Dutchman," which turned the aearch in the direction of the violinist. Two minutes later the self- appointed officers rushed in with the news that the German had skipped with all his belongings." No proof of a man's guilt could be more convincing. Jim detailed three or four men to keep an eye on the other suspect, and five minutes afterwards he with a dozen others were searching the whole country round for the missing man. The few men left in camp gathered in groups and discussed the exciting event. As the afternoon advanced one by one of the searching party returned bearing no news, and it was not until the beams of the western sun lay like a ribbon of yellow gold on the ridge of hills skirting the town that Jim Beeves and his followers at last bore their prisoner in triumph into the camp. Jim said they had found their man at Q- unconcernedly talking to a hotel man there with whom he bad made arrangements to pass the night. "He was a cool one," they said. Not a nerve quivered when they showed him the knife, although he promptly acknowledged its ownership. Upon learning that be was wanted" for the murder of Sanford he had paled a little, but had strongly protested his innocence. To be surrounded as he was then by a crowd of excited, rough men, acousing him of murder, wa3 certainly not calculated to make any man cheerful, however innocent be might feel himself to be. Taking their prisoner to the dance-hall, which, on this evening, was made to do service as a justice- court, they gave him an opportunity to tell his story. He had, he said, packed his valise the night before, and immediately after the performance left a place in which he had been compelled to work at the risk of his life. He had missed his knife, which be bad treasured as a memento of his native land, but as he couldn't account for its being out of his possession had given it up as lost or stolen. He could make no further defence except to again reiterate that he had known nothing of the murder until arrested that day. There was a consultation for a few moments among the men, followed by a speech by Jim Ileeve3, Here's a man slips out the same night his boss is murdered. The knife found on the body he doesn't deny being his there had been a quarrel between them the night before, and to his thinking this was the man who did the deed. He can't say anything for himself, only tell a very flimsy story about leaving 'cause he wasn't treated square. But no honest man leaves his place in the middle of the night, so they had decided to hang him. We will give you ten minutes to leave any message and say yer prayers," he said. For a moment there was perfect quiet; then the condemned man spoke: 11 t haf not done this murder. Some day you will know who did it. I haf no message to leave only that some one send my violin to Carl Holmes in Vienna. My name is Otto Heimer. I haf no friends." That was all except that he asked for his violin. The man who handed it to him won- dered that a condemned man could fiddle. He took the instrument from its case with loving hands, and one of the boys" nearest him saw a tear glisten on the varnish. Then he played-strains the like of which had never been heard in those parts before were drawn forth by his magio bow. Strange, wild music, weird—almost uncanny at times, and again soft, tender, pleading-a chain of melody- voices of Spain and Poisaia, Italy and Hungary, united into one by free improvisation, in which the popular melody and the personal creation were so closely intermingled as to make it difficult for the listener to distin- guish the original from the acquired. What rebellion against sorrow, pain, and despair was breathed forth by the musical genius of the player. What longing for sweetheart, mother-the overwhelming long- ing for home I Judges and executioners were turned into a spellbound audience. What memories of his native land, old friends, all lost to him, as be had said, were shadowed forth in that music. The ten minutes had extended to a half hour, and not a word had been spoken. The snapping of a string at last broke the spell. There was a confused mur- mur. Jim said, Time's upbut several of the men protested. "A guilty man can't play like that," said one rough customer, to whom the musio bad awakened memories of a better day, leaving traces on his cheeks. There was a dispute for a moment or two, but Reeves's faction prevailed. The prisoner sat motion- less. The breaking of the string had brought him back to the realisation that his dreams were of the past, and his life was soon to be cut off. Just as violent hands were about being laid on him there rushed into the room a boy, who frantically cried, The fiddler must not be hanged. The woman in the next room says so. She is sick, and wants to say some- thing to a priest." Wait a minute, boys," Reeves exclaimed, I'll see what this means." He and two others followed the boy into the roullchamoer, where the woman lay a mere wreck, with the deathly traces of drink and consumption plainly written on her counte- nance. When Reeves emerged from the death chamber he related to the expectant crowd the story he had learned from the sick woman. In substance it was this:— Sanford bad insulted the woman, who through all her vicious life had kept some shreds of modesty about her. Jn their drunken row all three had come to blows, and in a moment of frenzy the woman had stabbed Sanford to the heart with the knife she had stolen from Heimer the day before. Stupefied by liquor and fright, she did not then realise the enormity of her deed, and had gone to her room, only to fall into a drunken sleep, from which she was aroused many hours after by the noise of the "trial" in the room below. On learning from the boy the meaning of the uproar the whe'e scene of the night before came back to her with painful vividness—the row, then the crime unseen by anyone (her husband having fallen senseless from a blow Sanford had given him). She was first tempted to keep silence, but strains of music had tome to her ears like the wail of a man protesting his innocence. Uemorse was soon followed by repentance, and it was her messenger who had saved the man's life. « Now," said Jim, I want you to apobgise to'Jthis 'ere man for the way we've handled him. Pard, will you take my hand? I've heard heaps o' preachin' in my day, though we don't get much in these parts but I never knew a prayer to go so straight to the heart as this 'ere musioianer's. Boys, we'll take up a collection for him, and he can stay here; and we will give him a I i-ak-e off' if he will play for us now and then." Now that the strain was removed, the violinist broke down completely. "I tbank you, friends," he said, "but 1 must go home to my own country." That same night the sick woman died. 'And the next morning, when the stage pulled out with one passenger, a crowd of rough miners stood at the hotel" corner and gave three hearty cheers for the mnsicianer."—Chicago Evening Lamjj.
Advertising
Advertising
Cite
Share
THE VALUE OF Erw's FECIT SAT.T cannot be told. IU success in Europe, Asia, Africa, America, and Australia proves it. It is pleasant, cooling, health- giving, refreshing, and invigorating. You cannot over- state its great value in keeping the blood pure and free from disease. Its preparation has been truly styled one of the triumphs of modern chemistry. In hot or foreign climates it is Invaluable. It allays nervous excitement, and restores the nervous system to its proper condition (by natural means). In the nursery it is beyond praise. Caution.-Examlnt each bottle and see the capsule is marked Eno s Fruit Salt," without which you have been imposed on by a worthless imitation.-Of all Chemists. Prepared only at Ena's "Fruit Sal14" Works, London, B.E., by J. C. Eno's Patent. 18535 LIVEK COMPLLINTS.-Dr. King's Dandelion and II Quinine Liver Pills, without Meraury, are a potent remedy; remove all Liver and Stonlach Complaints Biliousness. Headache, Sickness, Shoulder Pains, Heart- arc, Indigestion, Constipation. LE525
ALWAYS AFTER HIM.
News
Cite
Share
ALWAYS AFTER HIM. A boy about ten years of age got aboard of a Fourth-avenue car at Forty-Second-street with a parcel under his left arm. The car had scarcely entered the tunnel when he began to unwrap the parcel, and it was soon dis- covered that be had a bottle of ginger ale. He carefully looked it over, gave it a vigorous shaking up, and then his curiosity led him to examine the cork. Among the passengeri who took notice of him was a man with a satchel, who had just come in on a train, and he finally said: It Bub, you don't want to be foolin' with that cork." "Who's a-fooiin'?" queried the lad, in reply. You seem to be. You probably won't be satisfied till she pops out and almost kill# somebody." I guess I've seen ginger ale bottles before to-day. I was only loolun' to see how they" Pop went the cork, followed by a gush of the liquid. The man with the satchel got the cork in his eye and the ginger ale over his legs, and during the confusion the boy escaped. The conductor rushed in to see what had happened, and when the excite* ment had quieted down the traveller picked up his satchel and started for the platform, saying: "Seems mighty durned funny that I never strike this town without somebody attempts to assassinate me right off! Stop your old oar and lemme git out where I kin swing my jack-knife and hev a show to purtect my- self
MARIE BASHKIRTSEFF'S LETTERS.
News
Cite
Share
MARIE BASHKIRTSEFF'S LETTERS. The letters of this much-discusstd young laJy, whose egotism and vanity ate remarkably con- spicuous, have just been tianslated into English. l'he character of thci writer of these effusions might (says the Morning Pest) puzzle the most learned student of human idiosyncrasies. The extraor- dinary mixture of apparently genuine feeling witif a high-flown, vague, and often almost ridiculcul utterances amazes the reader throughout, ani there are not a few who are likely to throw down the book in di.gu!,t, and to declare that the JWI who wrcte in such a in-inner was not in command of her senses. Dissertations on the grand passion are of fid quent occurrence. The manner in which Mari( catalt,ues her ljver?, lectures them on .their deportment, and assures them of her supreme indifference, is certainly amusing, if not altogether admirable. She thiuks that—" The ancients were wrong in making Love a boy. It is the woman who loves. If one could have a second self, I should like to be that self, in order to render homage to my first self only because she renders homage to Love. What of the woman who loves you blind:y? Is she appreciated, eTen if the adores you? Yee, by comuaon-place people. But if this woman stands erect before you, and then throws herself at your feet, you comprehend her grandeur, the grandeur of her love. And it is not because she thus humiliates herself that she is great, but because she elevates and ennobles you. Where is the man who would not feel himself a god in the presence of adoration like this, and who would not consequently, understand Buch a woman ant render himself hor equal! Good-bye." Self confidence was one of the key-notes of bei character. From first to last she" bad a belief in her own exceptional capacity which nothing could overcome. It is a valuable quality, but it ia possible to carry it too far. And it was not only her intellect which she held to be of a very superior order. Htr personal beauty and her supreme taste in dress are again and again impressed upon her correspondents, After a visit to the Pitti Palace she writes:- There was a Venus with feet so distorted that one might have tliought she had been io the habit of wearing high-heeled shoes. My own feet are of a much better shape. There are very beautiful and curious objects in the pdace, thousands of them. What I like best are tue p)rtraitq, because they are not invented, composed, arranged. Thcr4 is aJso a curious collection of mmintures. Why do we not dress now as they did in olden times ? The present fashions are ugly. You know that I havo set. led on the style of dresi I shall wear, once I am married-it is to b3 classic-the style of the Empire, or, rather, of the Directoire-but modest, very irodost. There are some charming gowns, draped carelessly, and fastened in front with a belt. Ah, the women of to-day do not know how to dress; the most eloquent of them ara badly dressed. Well, have patience; if God grants me grace to do what I wish, you shall see one woman, at least, dressed with some taste." On the question of success in oneTs aspirations she again and again philosophises to the most serious manner. She must either succeed 01 perish; this is her constant cry, and there is every reason to believe that it was earnestly uttered. "I must attain what I desire or I must dip. He who is afraid, yet goes to meet danger, is b: aver than he who is not afraid. And the greatet the fear tbo greater the merit. The past lives in memory, and is consequently a sort of present. The future does DO exist. Let us not try to evade the question by a sophism saying that tb's instant in which I am writing to you is already past; by the present we understand to-day, to- morrow, a week hence. This leads me to say that one should take no thought for the future, regrtt nothing. Do we live for the future?"
BOULANGER AND MADAME BONNEMAIN.
News
Cite
Share
BOULANGER AND MADAME BONNEMAIN. Fr,w the very first moment of Boulanger's con* nection with Madame de Bonnemain his ruin was foretold. What sort of a man should you Judge him to be ?" asked Constans of the individuala be had sent to London to report proceedings, and judge whether he was capable cf returning to renew the test of his popularity. "-You need not fear him," was the answer, "he is a woman's slave. If the woman is high-minded and respectable so much the better for you, if the reverse so much the worse for all of us." And so (says a writer in the Birmingham Toi-t) it has proved to the end. This cultivated rude cafe-haunting soldier kept his sangfroid amid the intoxication of his poularily, but lost Lid bead entirely when be found himself preferred by a woman of education and refinement. Madame de Boonemain was not, however, of the upper ten thousand exactly. She belonged rather to the middle class, and her evi- dent object from the beginning of her liaison. with Boulangtr was to obtain a divorce from her husband, and, this being accomplished, her next aim was that of getting the General divorced from his wife in otder that she might marry the man she had determined on getting made Dictator of France. But Madame Boulanger refused to agree to cue for the divorce. Madame de Bonnemain's ambitioui schemes were at once destroyed. It was this disappointment, not the lung disease, which killed her. "Marriage with tile General or- nothing," was her own expression to a relative of hers, who resides in London.
MH. W. H. SMITH AND THE NEWSBOY.
News
Cite
Share
MH. W. H. SMITH AND THE NEWSBOY. The London correspondent of the Manchtster Guardian tells this story of Mr. Smith :-What he was as the head of a great house of business I can only infer from a solitary instance, In the yeac 1873 a clergyman asked help for a poor boy, a son of one of his parishioners, who had held a place at one of W. H. Smith and Son's bookstalls, but had lost it. I was asked if I would approach the head of the firm on the subject. It seemed a hope. less venture. I did not even know Mr. Smilli, but I sought an interview with him and laid the case before him. 1 never was more amazed than by the patient kindness with which the millionaire member for Westminster entered into the grie- vances of a little newspaper boy, inquired into the case, satisfied himself of ita merits, and secured substantia! justice.
Advertising
Advertising
Cite
Share
C. BHANDADEH AND Co.'s MCircular-pointei Pens I neither scratch nor spur the points being rounded H by a new process. Seren Medals awarded — H Attention i» a'30 Bt0 B. and Co.'a new I "Graduated Series of fens, which offers ih« novel advantage of one pattern being made m four de^ripVnf ■ SS. and each In three widths of points !!l,k I Stationer for a 6d. assorted Sample Box of rtte I ••rfefc ^5 ■ LADDERS.—Ladders for Builders. Painter*. Pla* H terers. Farmers, Private Use, Ac., all siZM I oM-ertaWfcfeed Manufactory, B«rVstr^B*t £ ■