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& "V. % * r TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. 0.. JULY 10. 1883. ESTABLISHED 1848 A DAY-DREAM. In a long-forgott«n packet-, Tied up with a silken band, I found it: only a letter Traced in a girlish hand. I read it over and over, Ah, me! as I did before In the days that were full of sunlight- The days that are no more. I dreamed of a golden-Summer, Far back in a Joyous time, When every day was a poem, And every hour a rhyme; There came a fragrance of roses And lilacs and mignonette, And a sound of sylvan music, And the eyes that are with me yet. A flood of purple sunset, In scintillant glory came, Till the deep old forest kindled, And burned like a fluid of flame. There came a girlish figure, With billows of floating hair, And she bent her face above me— An angel over my chair! * I saw it all In a moment, While I held the crumpled sheet; And then, as the vision faded, The long, gray, city street, With its hatetul rush and clamor, Came back to my weary eyes, Ah, still the fruitless struggle! Ah, still the worthless prize! IN MID-AIR. “My dear Fred, will you not give up this hazardous life?” “Yes, Annie, when this season is over I will abandon it forever, and we will get married and settle down.” The young girl blushed deeply at the words of her lover, but she did not resist the arm that was thrown around her waist, and drew her closer to him, or the kiss that followed. In fact, she was very proud of his handsome face and manly form, but his dangerous profession—that of a trapezist—made her tremble for fear of accidents, and she continued to plead that it should be given up. “You have now some money, Fred— I a little, am an orphan as well as your self, and we are all in the w'orld to each other.” “Indeed we are, Annie; but hard fortune threw me into the life I am leading. It was a hard school I was trained in. I know little else, and after so many years of toil it would be almost foolish if I neglected the golden opportunity before I renounced it alto gether. “I believe you love it almost as well as you do me,” she replied with a smile. “Not one thousandth part as w T ell! And yet I must own there is something attractive to me in the breathless swing —the hanging from the dizzy height— the daring leap in mid-air that makes the heart of every looker-on stand still.” “And mine among the number,” with a heavy* sigh. • ~ * “Have no fear, darling. Practice has made me so perfect that there is not the slightest danger.” “Danger there always is, Fred.” “I can see none.” “You have to depend very much upon others, do you not?” “Certainly.” “And failure upon their part, care lessness—the breaking of a rope might be fatal.” He could not deny it, though he made light of it, quieted her fears as best he could, and turned the conversation into another channel—the one that is near est and dearest to young hearts. For a year they had been acknowl edged lovers, and there was no one to say them nay. He had striven to edu cate himself, and rise superior to iron fortune—had succeeded as men of reso lute will ever do—had been frugal and saving, with the determination of some day turning his back upon tent, span gles and sawdust, and taking the place in society to which he felt he had a right. And so it w'as in a great measure with the girl who had become very dear to him and done much to strengthen his good intentions, to keep him from wan dering into the paths that have been * the ruin of so many whom the w'orld applauded to the echo for a time, only to forget as new faces came—who floated upon the topmost waves of suc cess, to be the more certainly wrecked upon the dangerous rocks and dragged to the bottom. , She, like himself, had been early- orphaned and knew something of the hard lot of being brought up by distant relatives—begrudged the little food she ate, and made to toil beyond her strength. But this was over now r . and her slender lingers made her needle fly as she thought of the future. And that future they talked of long and earnestly, laid their plans and made themselves supremely happy in what was to be. There was no single cloud save that of fear entertained by the girl for the safety of her lover, and again and again it forced itself upon her mind, and found utterance from her lips. * “It is but a few short months,” he replied, “before the tenting season will be at an end, and I am free. ' Now I am bound by a contract the most lucra: tive I have ever made, and to break it would be ruinous. There is little to be feared, my darling. All will go well. Winter will soon come, and then good-bye to this wandering life.” “But only think of how much time will elapse before I see you again. If I could only be with you, it would not be so bad. But I fear—fear that I shall never see you again.” It was the old story of tears, and comforting and promises to be faithful; Hrrd ^CT’”’ 0 indeed passed be ore the-; again saw each other’s faces. But, as he had -predicted, all had gone well. Fame as well as money had been gained by the young and daring trapezist. He stood at the very head of -his desperate profession, and the hearts of women stood still and strong men held their breath when he hung high in mid-air, and leaped—a wonderful distance—from one swinging bar to another. Had it been 'in the olden days of Rome they would have crowned him with the vic tor’s laurels, borne him upon their shoulders, made him rich in gold, and hailed him as King of Athletes. And now the last night^ame that he was to appear before the public—the very last night of the season, and that of his benefit. Well might he be proud of it Well might he look long ingly for it, for the substantial reward it would bring. A favorite with all, volunteers had been far more numerous than was usual, and the management more liberal. A whisper had reached them that he thought of leaving, and they were doing their utmost to bind him so as to secure him for another season. He had left Annie early to make the necessary preparations—but met her again as soon as he dressed—dressed in the most magnificent garments he had ever worn and her gift—the work of her own hands—and drawing aside as much as possible they talked gayly, much more than was customary for her to do, for she appeared to have forgotten all fear for his safety. “I feel, darling,” she whispered, “that to-night is to be the grandest triumph of your life.” “And the last.” “The last!” appeared to be echoed by a stem voice, and they turned hastily around, but could discover no one near, and believing their ears had deceived them, she continued: “How I shall glory in your success, Fred.” “And I in outdoing myself for your dear sake.” “Besides, it is so much pleasure for one to know that it is for the last time.” “The very last!” was whispered to their ears as if by the lips of the wind that found its way through the little rents in the canvas. Both started more fitfully than they had done before, and released the hand they had been pressing. A horse—one of the finest in the stud —had been led out and was standing near the curtain that concealed the ring and spectators, ready to make a dashing entree. By its side, but the opposite one to them, a woman was standing, black haired, brunette in complexion, with a tall, supple figure, and eyes that flashed with almost more than human brightness. For a single instant Annie caught the expression of her face, and saw the line of sharp, white teeth that broke the intense red of the full lips, and drawing back with a shudder she could not repress, asked: “Who is that, Fred.” “She is known by the name of the ‘Cuban Queen’—is the best woman rider I ever saw—brave, fearless and dashing.” “Has she been with you all summer?” “Yes; but why? Are you jealous?” “No, but—” and she blushed under his earnest glances. “Well,” he continued with a smile, “you might have had reason if you had been with us. Certainly I might have had her for a wife, had I but given her the slightest encouragement. “Does she love you?” and the voice of the girl was as low and sad as the beating of the waves upon the reaches of the silver sand. “I believe she would have done so if I would have let her. But there was no danger of that, darling.” and he called her attention to the beauty of the horse. The Cubaness had also been engaged in conversation, though a very brief one—only consisting in asking one of the riders if that was the girl the trape zist was to marry, and receiving an affirmative answer. Then she hid her face^-one famed for its tragical beauty, but now almost devilish with the spasm of jealous rage that distorted it—for a moment in the flaring mane of her steed, conquered her emotion with a powerful effort, wreathed her lips into the studied smile of the artist, and stepping toward Fred, said in a skill fully modulated voice: “Let me congratulate you in advance upon the success of your benefit. ” “And let me thank you for the kind ness you have shown in the matter.” He would have introduced her to Annie, bftt the girl had turned away, and so he continued: “You know that this night ends my connection With the company. Be assured, however, that if, in the future, I can do anything to promote your suc cess or happiness I will do so, and hoper you will feel free to call upon me.” “You are to be married?” she asked, without even a word of thanks. “Yes. Will you not come aud dance at my wedding?” “Certainly—when you are married.” He did not notice the emphasis upon the latter part of the sentence—had no time to do so, for even as they were uttered the bell summoned the fair rider, and she leaped, unassisted, upon her horse aud dashed into the arena. Then ha called Annie again to him, and they took a place where they could see her speeding around the Circle, while the air rang with plaudits. And well it might; such matchless riding had never before been seen—probably never would be again—and the horse' she rode, goaded far beyond its trained and regular pace, ran and leaped as if entirely unbroken. “The devil is in that woman to night,” said one groom to another. “Yes, and in the horse, too. I never knew her to ride with a spur before. ” “A spur!” was echoed in astonish ment. “Yes, I saw her get one of the ring master, and that she is using it you can tell by the fiery leaps of the horse. He never would stand such a thing, and if he doesn’t break her neck lie will his own. By heaven! just look at her face. Her exes are dashing like balls of fire and her teeth are set hard. I believe she is either drunk or crazy.” ‘ Pshaw r ! it is only her hot Spanish blood. Something lias gone wrong, you may depend. But if she makes thet leap over the gaiters with the horse running at that mad rate she is gone. No! She is safe. I never saw anything to match it in all my life.” She was indeed safe, though siie had taken desperate chances sufficient to break down a dozen necks, aud as she sprang lightly from her foaming horse a flash of triumph shot from her black eyes, and scornfully disdaining the bouquets that had been flung at her feet, she rapidly disappeared, leaving the clown to appropriate and make merry over them. Another act or two (very tame after the last) and the king of the trapeze— as the Cuban was the queen of the arena—was called to take his place. With a single word to the girl he loved, he sprang into the sawdust, circle, and bowed low to the storm of applause— one wild enough to have turned a less steady head. But coolly, perfectly collected, he cast his eyes over the vast assembly, and a bright light came to them, and a truer smile to his lips, as he saw r where his Annie was seated, looking at him with a not to be con cealed pride. He braced his muscles, drew up his head, ran his* fingers lightly up through his curling chestnut hair, aud thanked all for their presence. The dress he wore showed his finely knit figure to the greatest advantage, and flashed with every movement as if covered with stars and diamond dust. His face w as glowing with health and hope, and many were the eyes of admiration that girlhood turned toward him »a he sw'ung lightly from bar to bar until he had reached the topmost one as easily, apparently, as a bird would have flown. Feat after feat of the most dangerous character (so it appeared to the unini tiated) w'as performed and then came the crowding and final one. That it required a clear head, great precision and calculation, cool nerves and im mense strength was evident to all from the minuteness and carefulness of the preparation. Th8 king of the trapeze stood leaning against the centre-pole and seemingly watching the proceedings, wnile he re gained his somew'hat overtasked breath, in reality more intent upon .the beaming and anxious face of his love than any thing else. “The feat now about to be per formed,” said the master of ceremonies in explanation, and to do away with something of the tedium of waiting, “is one that has never been attempted by any other man, and upon this occa sion the leap W'ill be greater than ever before. But as it is perilous,-beyond all description, I must beg the most perfect silence.” A net was about to be stretched so as to save the performer in case of falling; but he motioned that it should uot be done, saying, so as to be heard distinctly by all: “There is no use of that. I will— desire to make the jump without it— make one that will be long remem bered.” Those who understand the matter the best were the most thrilled by the words, and the same groom who had given vent to his feelings with regard to the dashing Cuban, whispered to his comrade: “I believe they have all gone mad. Heaven give safety, but I wouldn’t venture (even if I could do it as w ell as he) for the whole concern.” “Is all ready?” asked Fred, as he ran his eyes swiftly over the slender cords and bars that W’ere to be to him as the spinnings of fate. “Rreadyl” He kissed his fingers - apparently to the audience, but in reality to the girl he loved, seized a rope, climbed to the first bar—then another and another until he reached the list, cut the others loose' and performed' all the various acts he had before gone through with from that dizzy height, and with as much certainty and seeming as careless as if but a foot from the ground in place of nearly a hundred. Then he rested, and braced himself for the final one—the daring, thrilling, unmatched leap in mid-air, from one swinging trapeze to another, and failing to catch which at the proper instant aud cling to it was death. Backward and forward he swung, while a breathless silence reigned, prepared himself for the desperate feat, fixed his eyes upon the treacherous bar to which he must spring and. fasten upon, shot through the air almost like a flash of light, clutched it safely with his hands, w'as struggling to gain a seat as the wild buzzas that could no longer be controlled burst from every lip, and then the supporters gave way, and, with a mighty crash, he fell back- w'ard to the ground! Women shrieked and fainted in ter ror, men were awe-stricken and incapa ble of action; but even in that swift descent was heard above all the cry of “Anniel” Carried from the ring with the form of the girl he loved wildly clinging to him, instant aid was obtained, but though no bones were broken, it was the opinion of the physicians that his recovery was doubtful, the jar had been so great aud there might be internal injuries. The sports of the ring had ceased, the audience been‘dismissed, but did not stir. Sorrowfully they waited and whispered with white lips, for some final tidings, something beyond mere uncertainty. The company were gathered around the Injured man with tearful eyes, and the grief of the girl would have melted the heart of stone. And silently there stood the fair Cuban, wringing her hands, and with the muscles of her face working tempestuously. But sho was' a woman, would naturally feel more deeply than men, and nothing was thought of it. Meanwhile, even as the white-winged angel of life and the black-winged one of death were battling for their prey, an investigation was being made into the cause of the accident by those whose duty it was to see that all was safe, and upon whom the blame would fall the most heavily. Holies and. bars w'ere found ato be intact. It was the iron rings that had broken, and wondering at this, they stood with them in their hands, when one of the physicians, (and by chance a chemist) who was in attendance came along; and had his attention called to the matter. “This fatal fall,” he said, after even the most casual observation, “has not been the result of accident, but of pre meditated malice upon the part of some enemy. The iron rings have been honeycombed, and rendered as brittle as glass by some powerful acids, then rubbed over with varnish to hide it from detection. Whoever did the deed had murder in their soul.” At that instant came the murmur that the injured man had aroused from his stupor; had spoken, that there was no longer any doubt of his recovery. “Thank trod!” burst from the lips of all. Even the pallid, ghastly face of the Cuban Queen flushed, and she turned away when the other news—the treach ery with regard to the rings—came to her ears, and hastily freeing herself from the press was lost to sight. But almost instantly the double re port of a pistol w'as heard, and rushing in the direction of the sound they found that she had shot her iiorse and then herself, and was lying gasping for breath, and with the life-blood swiftly flowing from a wound in her side. • < “Beyond all help,” watf, decision of the physicflgE any one tell the ineauingofYhis f ’ “I loved him; he would have married another. I tried to killed him—failed, and Oh! God, I—” They were the last words of the beautiful and passionate woman, but told the entire story, few as they were— was as the condensation of an entire volume. . From the admiring gaze of the pub lic disappeared two stars upon the same night. One we can follow to a home of light, love and happiness. And the other? . Oi*en-Alr Selene*. Sing Sing. The present cells, at Sing Sing, such as they are, are much below the stan dard of those in other state prisons of more modem and improved construc tion. The visitor who is used to believ ing large and airy bedrooms, with un- inqieded ventilation, necessary to health aud well-being, would recoil on glanc ing for the first time into a convict’s cell at Sing Sing. Entering by a low browed and narrow door you come into a space, for it cannot be called a room, only feet wide. Most ol this small breadth of space is occupied by the bed, w'hich extends from end to end of the cell, and is fixed up to (die wall during the daytime. Imagine, in addition, a not over high ceiling, and you have some idea of a cell at Sing Sing. A bucket and a few washing utensils com plete the furnishings of the cell, though some of the convicts have ornamented then- “dens” with pictures and other articles. The small width of the cells is the most obvious defect in the inter ior construction of the prison. For this as in other cases, no one now connected with Sing Sing is to, blame. The present management, as well as those connected w'itfi every other good prison in the land, will admit that 3 feet 0 in ches is not sufficient width for a cell oc cupied night afterlight bv a|humau be ing, and in many cases bk two. Passing along the conidora, looking into the small open doorways, as the£ stretch before and behind in rows of 100 each, the visitor imagines he is gazing into a number of interstices or right-angled hole^, cut into this erect mass of stone by some huge mach ne at regular inter vals and of uniform size. That they are bedrooms can hardly be realized. The convicts are marched back to their cells every evening after supper and are al lowed lights by which to read until y o’clock, when “lights out” is the order, and sleep is supposed to super vene. Keepers patrol the corridors all night. At 0 the convicts rise, have breakfast and by 7 o’clock commence work, returning not to their cells dur ing the remainder of the day until work is over. On Sundays they remain in their cells all day, except to go to their meals and return. There is no regular recreation or walking exercise at sing Sing. Work, meals and the cells are the alternating occupations. Indeed, if there were any regular hour allowed during the day for walking in tiles or go-as-you-please order, there is no suit able piece of ground within the prison enclosure large enough to allow 1,500 or any large number of men to parade at the same time. All the available space is occupied as sites for the present buildings, leaving a few roadways be tween each. When one comes to the manner of punishments in Sing Sing, dangerous ground is approached. Many have been the stories published of cruelty in cor recting the denizens of this institution, and sadly sensational have been the ‘.‘re velations” made Jjy released prisoners of what goes on behind the bare. A casual visitor has no opportunity of ex pressing an opinion one way or another as a result of his inspection, for lie merely uses his reportorial instincts and describes as well as he can what he sees and what he is told. On the occa sion ot the recseut visit the correspon dent was “taken to what was formely used as the punishment room”—a dim ly lit chamber, comfortable looking enough, boarded half way round. Into one of the boards was fixed a hook, upon which the handcuffs on a man’s wrists were securely placed, so that his hands were held to the wall high above his head, while his feet were tied to an ar rangement in the wall close to the floor. His back was then bared and, under the old regime, the “paddle” applied. The “paddle,” the correspondent was told, is now a relic only for flogging lias been abolished at Sing Sing for nearly a year. The “paddle” is inoffensive enough to look at. Many people seem to have an idea that it is a piece of thin wood perforated with holes, which cruelly tear the flesh. It is simply a piece of leather, plain, flat, pliable and moderately thick, six inches long and three inches wide, with a rolled handle about a foot long. It has not been supp ned that sewer age gas could exert any corroding iuda- enoe on metals, yet invettigations show that holes are actually worn in lead and zinc by such gases. From all that appears, the gas proceeding from the drain is the most dangerous element— exhalations of this character exercising their deadly influence both bf perfora ting the pipes which contain ahem and then issuing through 'base apertures to mingle with the respired air. Sub stantial iron pipes, well ventilated, and joined in the most perfect m inner possible, are considered the beet protec tion. A gay band of wanderers trudged over the hills and anoss the valves of Montgomry county recently, much to the wondennens of the natives and the advancement of science. Some of the invaders were clad in sacks and trousers, some in jackets and knickerbockers, some in bright-colored Jerseys and frocks, but all carried hammers and each had a leather bag sluug jauntily over one shoulder. There were little lads scarcely forty inches high, who chatted about triassic and jurassio, silusan and Devinian, as they might be expected to do of balls, bicycles and hoops. There were lanies who lugged Irigb^agj ^f.^pnglomerate shale and ^ ‘ ore ease than they a spool of thread in town. There were pretty girls who thumiied awav at granite and limestone like-venerable macadamizers, and there were grave professors who skipped up hilly roads and threaded forest paths like mountain goats. It was the sixth expedition of Professor Lew'is’ geologi cal class under command of the profes sor and attended by a reporter. The May air was like May wine as the party left the train at Rubicum Station. It was ttavared with lilac and honeysuckle, wild thyme and mint. There W'ere green hedge rows all atiout leading up the drives to pretty villas. There were peach-blow-and-apple-blos som clouds, and tnere were the dain tiest contrast of color imaginable, as the bright dresses of the ladies in the party and the gay ribbons of the youngsters’ hats moved through the green fields and flowering orcoards. At Rubicum the expedition picked up some specimens of the oldest fossil known to Pennsylvania, the scolietus lineans—naught but a faint thread in a bit ol limestone rock now, but the first progenitor in diredt line of all the wav ing lorests and uodning grasses. Troop ing along the turnpike, by Willow Grove, the caravin turned into the ivaods past a bare and grim old school- house and over a quaint and picturesque cross-road to “The Kocks.” Here, with the soft sougli of the south wind in the branches over head, within sight of the ricn green of the meadow s and the prosperous quiet of the neat farm houses, the class endeavored, w hile Pro fessor Lewis lectured, to throw them selves back in imagination some mil lions of years to the time when the spot they stood upon was the eastern shore of the first of all seas, the Cambrian. Here, then, was a deadness, compared with w'hich the Sahara would be a gard en; a brackish ness that would make the waters of the Dead Sea sweet as a run ning brook—only sand and gravel and water from “The Rocks” to the Rocky Mountains. The thought was overpowering. The expedition rought rrlief in its lunch baskets. Retracing its steps the class stopped to drink at a whitewashed farm house, Which smelled strongly of doughnuts. “Water from the Cambrian sea,” said Professor Hines, of Girard College, as the bucket came dripping out of eighty feet of coolness. The Times man found forms of life, •how'ever, in his glass later even in generation than the carboniferous era. Turning off the cross-road into the Davisville highway the class caught sight of au innocent looking stone fence and charged it en masse, the light infantry leading in gallant style. The stone clanged back to tne hammers like the shield of Font de Boeuf to the challenging point of Ivanhoe. “Gneiss,” said a breathless youngs ter. “Cyanite,” rejoined Professor Lewis, correcting him. A stone’s throw down the road the road the class ran into a bed of conglo merate, which was the shore of anothe: sea, the Triassic, a couple of thousand centuries less antique than the Cam brian. The shore is to-day the bank of Morgan’s creek and mill pond, into which a few' small boys did their best to tumble. Morgan’s mill yard once wav ed with pince and palms, the pupils learned. Strange fish sw'am where now the creek is, and huge reptiles sunned themselves where now a barefooted boy rested himself on tee fence. The Trias sic sea w r as thirty miles wide and stretch ed from the Hudson to Harper’s Ferry. Under a fine breeze the class turned argonauts aim sailed across the Triassic sea—that is to say, they turned to the right and walked up hill -into a farm yard, where cropi>ed out a ledge of de composing sand stone, the ancient bot tom of this inland ocean. ’ Further up the hill and into the kitchen garden of the farm house the professor led his band. There, however, the marauders met their first check in the person of an ancient virago, W'lio stood with arms akimbo at the back of her dwelling and charged the class with intended burglar)’ and actual trespass. The invading hosts fled in disorder dow’n the hill, and the baggage carts and ambulances having been sent to the front under strong guard up halt W'as made until the train was boarded. Vocal Sounds. New Guinea. At the Royal Geographical Society of England recently a paper was read on New’ Guinea by Mr. Wilfrid Powell, who spent eight years on the coast of that island. It has an area of 312,000 Engl:mi equate miles. It is 19,000 square miles larger than Borneo, and as large as England. Ireland, Scotland, and France put together. No island in .the w’orld is its equal for natural products. Among the productions are tortoise shells, pearl shell, ivory nuts, gum, san dal wood, camphor-tree, sago, arrow- root, ginger, sugar-cane, cocoanuts, ebony, birds of paradise, and plums, wnile tobacco is grown in large quanti ties. In the discussion which followed, Admiral Moresby said it was a mistake to suppose he had annexed any portion of New Guinea. The English flag had been hoisted there seventeen years be fore by Lieutenant Yule during Captain Stanley’s visit. —Taking the 20,794 names in her city directory as a basis, Lowell claims a opulation of 103,790. A common defect in speaking in large buildings is inability to catch the key note or resonance vibration of the en closed space. All large areas have such resonance notes, and in some it is very marked. Westminster Abby, for in stance, consonates to G sharp, and in toning on Ibis note is much more aud ible than one a semitone above or below it. The use of an open-chest voice as little vocalized as may be is the best. It is less laborious, less liable to acci dents, less liable to develop the affection commonly known as “clergyman’s throat,” and by removing the sensation to effort, more easy and sympathetic. To analyze the constituents of a good delivery—first come the pauses, Haste is one of the commonest faults in speech. It has two defects—the one in overtax ing the complex muscular mechanism of the speaker, the other in adding to the intellectual labor of the listener. The rapidity of reception of ideas through’' the ear differs materially in different I>ersons, even excluding those distinctly “hard of heariug.” It is not great among the uneducated, whence it has been paradoxically said that all ill iterate persons are deaf. But they do require a longer time to arouse them to a state of attention than the more cul tivated. Naval officers had defended the practice of swearing, or, as it w r as euphemistically termed’ “shotting their speech,” with sailors, the expletive rousing attention and preparing the mind for the succeeding command. Mr. Hullah had on a similar ground explained the refrains of fal-lal-las of the older music in that they dilute the too concentrated sense of the words,and give time for the perception of the mus ic. When the great actor Salvini was in England, in 1875, an investigator made some experiments on this point. Salvini’s voice was one of the most re markable ever heard for its power of traveling, even suppressed phrases coming up to the distant gallery with perfect clearness. He spoke on a note about D in the bass about the chest, and in a sort of recitative; there were distinct periods from accent to accent, and the inflections were very large, run ning over an interval of more than a fifth. The individual wordscame about oue a second, and the pauses were aston ishingly long. They frequently amount ed to four, several times to five, and at the two great crises of the play to seven continuous seconds. And yet there was no sense of delay or of interruption, but quite the reverse. The lecturer in cidentally noted another thing, which the recent development of Wagner’s musical theories had invested with ad ditional interest. In the play “II Gla- diatore,” the four principal characters —a young Christian virgin, a Roman matron: the hero, a Roman officer, and the gladiator—formed an unintentional^ though perfect, vocal quartet of sopra no, contralto, tenor and bass. At times the alternations of dialogue produced a distinctly musical effect, an observa tion which to his mind, strongly con o- borated the views of the great musician lately deceased, that dramatic music instead of being conventional, should be the outflow of passion and emotion, and that the result could be attained as well from the elecutionary as from a strictly melodramatic side. stealing Hor Diamonds. Daniel Waldron, now playing at the National Theatre in the- Bowery, New York, lives in a first-floor flat at No. 407 East Seventy-eighth street. On Tuesday night the 29th of May, he re mained down town several hours after the performance at the theatre with a number of friends, and got home at 8 o’clock the next morning. As he step ped up to the door he noticed that both front windows of his flat were oi>en. His wife and Miss Rickert, the house keeper, sat at the window. “I’ve been robbed by burglars,” Mrs. Waldron exclaimed. “X*>e diamond cross and every cent of money were taken.” Mr. Waldron notfled the police at once, but no clue to the robbers was obtained. “I retired at 1J A. M.,” said Mrs. Waldron. “I placed under my pillow a satchel containing about $150, and pinned on the front of my underclothing my diamond cross, which contained twelve stones. A tew minutes after 4 o’clock something awakened me and 1 saw the rear door Of the bedroom open and close two or three times very gra dually. It was getting light, and 1 had left lights burning for my husband in both sitting room aud dining room. I shouted, ‘Who is there?’ A low voice answered, ‘It’s me.’ It was not my husband’s voice; aud I sprang to the floor and screamed. A tall man step ped in, placed his hand over my mouth, and whispered, ‘If you make auy noise I’ll kill you.’ I saw something which looked like pincers in his hand, and I heard something which sounded like the clicking of a pistol. He threw me upon the bed and covered my head with the sheets. He remained holding the clothes over my head, but I heard whis pers, and was sure there were other men in the room. I contrived to get the sheet off one of my eyes, and saw’ three men in the room. The sheet was again pulled over my eyes, and I was again threatened. I remained quiet while they rummaged about. “Then they all came to the bed again, and one said, ‘Where is that diamond cross?’ ‘My husband is wearing it,’ I said. T know you have it,’ he replied, and they tore my night-clothing away, found it, and’tore it loose. Then they took the satchel from under the pillow which contained the money. While one of tlie men watched me, the others went through to the rear of the flat. The man by me called to them, ‘Well, boys, put on your shoes.’ They all departed so noiselessly that I did uot know they had gone. As soon as I could after I found tliat no one was in the room I ran to the window. No one was in sight. I then alarmed the housekeeper, who lives in the basement. The men were not more than twenty-five years old.”J| The housekeeper says she heard foot steps above, but thought it was; Mr. Waldron. THE VERDICT -OF- THE PEOPLE BUY THE BEST! Mb. J. O. Boaa—Dear Sir: I bought the first Davis Machine sold by you over five years ago (or my wife, who has given it a long and (air trial. I am well pleased with it. It never gives any rouble, and Is as good aa when first bought. J. W. BOUCK. Wlnnsboro, S. C. t April 1883. Mr. Boao: Yon wish to know what I have to say In regard to the Davis Machine bought ol you three years ago. I (eel i can’t say too much In its (avor. I made about tan,no within five months, at times running it so (ast that the needle would get per- fectly hot (rom (r.ction. I (eel confldeni I could not have done the same work with as much ease and so well with any other machine. No time lost in adjusting attachments. The lightest running machine I have ever treadled. Br >ther James and Williams’ families are as mnch pleased with their Davis Machines bought ot you. I want no better machine. As I said before, I don’t think too much can be said (or the Davis Machine. Kespei tlullv, Ellen Stevenson, Fairfl“ld County, Aprt’, 1883. Mr. Boao : My machine gives me perfect satis faction. I find no fault with it. The attachments are so simple, i wish for no better than the Davia Vertical Feed. Respectfully. „ Mrs. R. Milling. Fairfield county, Apn 1 , 1883. . Mr. Boao: I bought a Davis Vertical Feed Scwmg Machine from yon four years ago. I am delighted with it. It never has given me any trouble, and has never been the least out of order. It is as good as when I first bought it. I can cheerfully recommend It. Kespectful’y, Mrs. M. J. Kirkland. Montlcelio, April 30,1883. This is to certify that I have been using a Dans Verticil Feed Sewing Machine for over tw >years, purchased of Mr. J. O. Bo ig. I haven’t found It possessed of any fault—all the attachments are so simple. It never refuses to work, and is certainly the lightest running in the market. I consider It a first class machine. Very respectfully, Minnie M. Willingham. Oaklau I, Fairfield county, 8. C. Mu Boao: t amwcii pieasea mevery pamcula with the Davis Machine nought of you. I think it a first-class machine la every respect. Yon know you sold several machines of the same make to diiferent members of our families, all of whom, as far as I know, are well pleased with them. Respectfully, Mas. M. H. Mobley. Fairfield county, April, 1883. This Is to certify we have had in constant use the Davis Machine bought of you about three years ago. As we take In work, and have made the price of it several times over, we don’t want any better machine. It is always ready to do any kind of work we nave to do. No packeringor skipping stitches. We can only say wt are well pleased ana wish no better machine, CATHERINE WTLIE AND SISTER. April 25, 18-18, I have no fault to Hud with my mach ne, and don’t want my better. I have m tde tne price of it several times bv taking In sewing. It is always ready to do us work. I think It a first-class ma chine. I feel I can't say too much for the Davis Vertical Feed Machine. Mrs. Th imas Smith. Kalrflel 1 county, April, 1833. It gives me much Its of the Darts Ver- Mr. J. O. Boao—Dear Sir: pleasure to testify to tne merits ( tical Feed Sewing Machine. The ma hlne I got of you about fire years ago. has been almost la con- siaut use ever since that time. I cannot aee that it is a orn any, aud has not cost me one cent for repairs since we have had it. Am well pleased and don’t wish lor any better. Yours tru’y, ItOBT. CRAWFORD, Granite Quarry, near Wlnnsboro s. C. We have used the Davis Vertical Fee 1 Sewing Machine for the last five years. We would not Lave any other make at any price. The machine has given us unbounded satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mrs. W. K. Turner and Daughters] Fairfield county, S. C., Jan. 2T, 1883. Having bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine from Mr. J. O. B >ag some three years ago, and it havlug given me perfect satisfaction In every respect as a family machine both for heavy and light sewing, and never needed the least re pair in any way, l can cheerfully recommend It to anv one as a first-class machine in every particu lar, and think It second to none. It la one ot the simp.est machines made; my children use it with altea-e. The attachments are more easily ad justed and it doe-i a greater range of work by means of its Vertical Feed than auy other ma chine I have ever seen or used. Mrs. Thomas owinos. Wlnnsboro, Fairfield county, S. C. We have had one of the D ivU Machines about four years and have always found it ready to do all kinds of work we have had ocoas on to da Can't see that the machine Is worn any, and works as well aa when new. Mrs. W. J. Crawford, Jackson’s Cree t, Fairfield county, S. C. — My wife Is highly pleased with the Davis Ms- chlue hougbi of you. She would not take double what sue gave for It. The machine has not been out of order since she had It, and she can do any kind of work on If. Very Respectfully, Jas. F. Free. Montlcelio, Fairfield county, 8. C. The Davis Se wing Machine Is simply a treas ure ■ Mrs. J. A. goodwtn. Ridgeway, N. C., Jan. 10, 1383. J.O Boao, Esq., Agent—Dear Sir: My wife has been using a Davis Sewing Machine constant ly for the past four years, and It hag never needed any repairs an i works just as well as when first bought. She says It will do a greater range ot practical work *>nd do it easier and bet-er than any machine the ua* ever useu. We cunatfuUy recommend it as a No. 1 family machine, Your trajr, Jas. Q. Davia. Wlnnsboro, 8. C., Jan. S, 1883. Thk touchstone by which men try os ill most often their own vanity. Mr. Boao : I have always found my Davis Ma chine ready do all kinds of to work I have had oc casion to do. I cannot see that the machine Is worn a particle and it works as wedos when nsw. Respectfully, Mrs. K. a Goodins. Wlnnsboro, 8. C., April, 1883, y Mr. Boas > My wile has been constantly using the Davia Machine bought ot you about live yeeri ago. I have never regretted buying It, as u Is always ready for any kind ol family tewing, either neavv or light. It is never oat of fix or needing pairs. Fairfield, S. C., March, 1883, iei Mi - - v - v • • ' - ■ A w-;.* . -sS 3rj w ■mm*