Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, August 1, 1886, Page 11

. thing had to be done. of i BILL MEWIT, THE MERMIT, The St 1y of & Btrange Man's Lifs in the Wilds of Ohio. Beioto Valley Caves and Thelr Kecen- tric Occupants—A Desperado’s Impregnable Retreat. Columbus (0) Cor. New York Mail and Express: On the road betwen Ports mouth and Chillicothe about eleven miles south of the latter place, is what is known as the cave of the hermit of the Scioto. The cave was built many years ago, when the surrounding country was an almost uninhabited wildern It is arudadooking structure, formed by suc cossive layers of rough stone, under a projecting rock, which serves as and aroof. Over the i marble monument, now black L age, and on which appears the following in WILLIAM HEW n Hermit, H Jeeupied this eave fourteen years, while 11 was wildernesss around him. He lied in 1554, aged years, H But very litt Hewit. 'The old settlers now living have no very distinet recollection of him except t he occupied the ¢ described for a number of ye paid no attention to the other set One pioncer, however, told me that he knew wit when he first came to th part of the country, and_before he bi the cave. He said that Hewit had such u peeuliar demeanor that he was inelined ard him suspiciously, but after- rds found him much of a man. Hew- itt, it was thougnt, was a Virginian, and marvied early i life_into a family of much respectabilitv. Returning from a i unexpectedly one night ilar proof of his wife's infi y, Kitled her and her paramc tly fled to the woods, neve return or associate with mankind. entually settling in the Scioto valle; o built this eave, where he sed a life of absolute solitude, his rifle furnishing him with food and clothing. The latter comnsisted of skins, 1 am told, wis a va as Josepl’s | coat, giying him an extremely odd appearance. try gradially filled up and_ eiviliz bezan to intrude on the solitude of surroundings, he beeame an obje curiosity to the settl who, in spite of his reticence and eyasions, urged associ: tion with him. Occasionally he v Chillicothe to exchange skins and furs for ammunition. His singular appe attracted much attention and n the unpleasant subject of rem was o In muscular man; hi nd unshaven, ing. sing from ‘his ways took out-of- s fellow It is while trading in Chillicothe one day he crawled into a large box, which was standing in front of one of the trading posts, in order to avoid meeting a number of persons who wore passing along the street. After murdering his wife and her paramour in Virgina he se to css an - aversion to associations of any kind and would never speak to compelled to Hewit w: mun, heeding the r than his ow: A physician nassing that way one d November, 1831, stopped at the hermit's cave out of curiosity and pushing open the door found him lying on the ground dead Near Rocky Fork, about one mile from Bainbridge, ‘is another cave, which, though s natural one, Las a history more interesting than that of the hermit. Few newspaper readers have forgotten the thrilling accounts of the daring and d perate deeds committed by Bob McKim- mey, the notorious western desperado and murderer, and his capture near Rocky Fork some years ago. McKimmey used “all the natural recesses of Rocky Fork as places of refuge when the detect- es were The cave to which I have ame of Mc- Kimmey”: . It 18 reached by climb- ing down the precipitous sides of the THE OMAHA DAILY BEE: 1, 1886. illsdale. 8150 For these superbly located Ints that @ spr $25 Cash; Bal. $8 to $10 ner Month, at 8 pert oill sell for doudle this figire before ing. cent interest. HILLSDALE Sells on its merits, and if you will ses the ground you will admit it yourself, Melrose IEill, $3 50 to $400. Dwight & Lyman’s, $600 to $800 Oak Hill, $350 to $500. Barkalow Place, $800 to $go0 chance for a shot. Just as McKimmey was walking behind the tree and while Jones was protected by its trunk a num ber of rifles rang out and McKimmey fell, strack by s 1l bullets. He was soon bound and taken to the Hitlsboro jail,and after his trial and conviction sentenced to the Ohio penitentiary for life, where he 1s mow one of the most noted con- viets. Tiger-Taming. James Atherton, an amimal tramner well know in London, has been inter- viewed in regard to his art. Do you mean to say Mr. Atherton, asked his interrogator, “that if [ were to bring you to-morrow a man eating tiger just fresh brought over from an Indian jungle, that you would undertake to trai it to leap throngh hoops and over whi and to kiss you and all the restin two months?” “In two months from the time it was de chff in a Dbeautiful and romantic the surrounding grove. W)rlinn of 'hen a point fi ? feet below the of the cliff is reached a huge roc turning the corner of this rock abruptly, amid waving evergreens, moss and ferns a smalt hole v the rock opens its dark throat to the sun, Entering, asmall chamber in the li s discovered, to pass through wh itis necessary for oue to humble himself on his hands and knees, Adjoming thisis s second and pitch dark chamber In this chamber is a small natural shelf in the rocky side of the cavern, near the roof. Here a man could bold'an army at bay, with the sim- t apon. The wreteched MeKim- v is said to have lain here for hours, while his pursuers were searching every foot of ground in the viewnity for him. The rude utensils with which McKim- ked his coarse food are still vas a member of one of the most darin nds of robbers which ever infested Ohio, with Allen ndstaft, as leader of the band. These desperadocs a terror 1o a wide community and \ ghastly tale of thewr deeds is re- with a shudder by the side of the summit is seen quiet fireplaces in the lonely cabing the mountaing on winter nights. Of McKimmey's final capture a former postmaster of Bain- bridge gave me the follow “McKimmey was raise ity,"" d he,**but committed no erimes until ho wi west to Wyoming and Col- orado. While there he became one of the most murderous and daring outlaws in the whole west; s deeds were on every tongue; his murders made every one shudder at the mention of his name. When he returned to Ohio he eame back to the haunts of his boyhood and lost no time in joining a band of cut- throats here, Many a hundred dollars bas that gang choked out of the farmers in this vicinity, Their deeds finally be- came so notorious and hold that some- Detective Norris, ringfield, undertook the job of breaking up the gang. He worked up the case in_masterly style and finally compelled McKimmey to leave the cave. remember s capture well. One 'l‘hanlufii ving day the word went aronnd from farwhouse to favm house in the mountains that McKim- was in Allen Grandstaf®s eabin, a y and desolate little log house in a clearing in the hills. Nearly 200 farmers grabbed their guns and made up a party to ~u\m|ru him. Armed with every con- ceivable weapon, the mbers of the party formed a great ci around the eabin and gradually closed in on it W,In-{n they had completely surrounded it McKimmey showed himself at the door. One of the party, a young man named Jones, who was intimately ae- quainted with McKimmey, volunteered to 2o and tell him now desperately small were his chances ofescape. All held their breath as the young man entered the eabl When he got fairly insid. MceKimmey, with one of those intuitio) one of th flashes of genius which criminals often have i critical emer- 8, suddenly seized him with a grip of iron and held him close to his own He then calmly walked out of the door, holding fast of Jones, seeure in the faet that no one woula shoot for fear of hitting Jones. The army of pursuers fol - Jowe In the course of the walk through the woods a giant oak was roached. As McKimmey and Jonos roached this tree a number saw their livered to me I would be able to put it through the performance you say. ‘Uhere is nothing which you eannot do with ani- mals if they have got intelleet and you have got patience.” But is it not mrightfully dangerous? “Dangorous? Yes, if you have not got nevve, and do not know how to handle an animal; but if you have nerve and keep your eye on his, and go the right way about it, gou thing. I would not he room in which the wildest ammal ever broughtto this country was at large. [ have again and again entered a cage which a lion or tiger has been unchained which had never been broken in before. ‘A wild animal that has not yet been broken for the show business never flies at you. When you enter the cage it will show its teeth and growl, and “perhaps strike at you with its claws; but if you keep your eye upon it and take care that it does not_attack you from behind, you are safe. No doubt it will claw you, as these cheetahs clawed me many time iz v need fear any ite to enter tho but he a wrinkle if ever you happ 1o be tete-a-tete with a cheefah or any animal of the cat tribe: When you are clawed and vou feel the animal’s hooked talons enter your flesh, don’t jump back, but go forward. If you jump back the claws tear away the flesh; whereas if you go forward the animal’s claws only make a prick.” 5 “‘How do you explain the fact that these ferocious earnivora do not spring at you iu a room as they would spring at you in a junglet” *'Well, m the first case, most wild ani- mals are bred in captivity, and as much accustomed to the sight of man as a dog or cat. But take the case of a wild tiger trapped in a jungle. Well, the tiger is ferocious chiefly when the tiger is hun- gry. 1f aman has got a full-grown tiger and sends it home from India he is not such a fool as to allow the tiger togo fast- ing all the way. The tiger is & market- ahle commodit{. and will fetch £150 in the market. If you have got £150 in an animal, you take care it aoes not want its dinner. "Ou the contrary, you give it as much as it will eat, in order to improve its condhtion so that it will feteh a better rice. The consequence is by the time he tii::r has arrived in London from Cal- cutta he has got fat and lazy. He gets his meals regular, and has no disposition to make a_meal off you; hence you can approach him, and if you are patient and study him and bhumor him and be firm with him and never take your eye off his or let your buck be turned, you can do what you like with him. Animals are all alike; there is no animal so ferocious but can be overcoine by kmdness and patience.” ———— Same Dividends. Wall Sireet News: A widow in a town in the interior of this state made her ap- pearance at the office of the gas company the other day and asked if it were true that eleetric lights were to supercede in all the public lamps. When answered in the aflirmative she continued: *'I own gas stock, and I want to know if this move won’t reduce dividends?®” “‘Most assuredly not, madam,” replied the seq un»_I *‘But it will be so mueh gas consumed.” “Exactly, but what has the guantity of gas consumed to do with a gas-bills" She went away without shswering the query, but perfeetly satisfied, A STRANGE CASE The My Confe ious Theft of $17,060— n of a Kleptomaniac. The strange case of Eli strong Huddleson, who died recently in the insane hospital in this city, hus not yet been made public, writes an Indian- apolis correspondent of the Cincinnati Enquirer, which fact induces one to sus- sect that many another history, more or ess sensational or mysterious (than hers), been buried in forgotton graves, heth Arm- “The subject of this sketeh was a servant for many years in the well-known_anc highly-esteemed family of Rev. J. F. Hutelison of Rushyille, Ind. Her maiden name was B eth Armstrong. She had attached herself to Hutchinsons joung girl in the capacit f-all work, pleasant nt and agreement she became a fix- f the family, and so remained until about two years ago, when Thomas Huddleson, of Shitoh, Rush county, mar- ried her, and shortly afterward moved to Kansas, Up to this time the Hutchinsons had al- ays regarded Eliza as a properand hon- orable girl. Her disposition was mild and amiable, and no one who had known her had ever suspected her of dishonesty. Sho seemed deeply rehgious by nature, and when from time to time during a pe- riod of four or five years various articles of value were missing from the house of her benefactor, not o shadow of suspicion rested on I No one ever thought of peeping under the lid of her capacious trunk or even of exploring her scrupu- lously kept bedroom. She was above suspicion. Meanwhile, a fow months be fore Eliza’s marriage, a _wealthy batch- elor brother of Mrs. Hutchinson died somewhere in Ohio, leaving considerable property to be divided among his three surviving sisters. The cash portion of this legacy amounted to $17,000 in gov- nment bonds. Pending ' division of the property these bonds were placed in the care of Rev. J. F. Hutchinson and wife for e keeping. They hid them securely (as they supposed) in the bottom of an old trunk, and thought nothing more of them unti) beeame necessary to distribute the shares to the sisters of Mrs. Hutchinson. But when they eame to look for the bonds they were horrified and amazed to find that they were miss- ing. Nota trace of them couid be found, and of course Eliza Armstrong was not the least surprised member of the house- hold when informed of the theft. Forthwith every conceivable measure was adopted to “aid in discovering the mllsm‘f bonds. All efforts proved futile, and still no one thought of suspecting the simple minded and conscientious Eliza. As a final attempt, the heirs offered an ltl.onm{ of Rushville (Frank J, Hall, Esq.) $1,000 it he would ascortain any clue lumhng to the recovery of the stolen money. Mr. Hall, after éxhausting all the known clews, finally went to Wash- ington, D. C,, hoping to obtain some re- lief for his clients at the hands of the fovnrnmonl. but he failed and came home. With this attempt all active efl’urls'bo find the lost treasure came to an end. A few months after the occurrence Eliza Arnm[rmirv married Mr. Thomas Haddleson, and, as_already stated, re- moved with him to Kansas. " In less than two months the couple returned to Rush- ville, and visited the Hutehinsons, where they were cordially received. After their arrival Mr, Huddleson lost no time _Dnvuwlrv m[ormqu Mr. and Mrs. Hutch- inson of the singular conduct of his wife almost since the day of their removal to Kansas, He said she became moody and melancholy, and soon began to exhibit signs of deep mental distress, bor- dering on insanity. At times she would accuse herself of treachery and ingratitude toward her former benefac- tors, the Hutchinsons. Further than these incohercnt self-accusations, how- ever, she gave her husband no satisfac- tion. Fumllg she had urged him to take her baek to her old home, 4s she desired to make an effort to right the wrongs she had erpfirmd, Alarmed at what hb considered unmistakable evidodce of her mental derrangement, Mr, Huddleson Ames Place, AT $600 TO $700. This addition is located within half w block of Belt Line depot, which will be built by October 1, and is within easy walking distance of the street cars, and is rapidly buil ding up with substantial house s, 75140 on Park Ave., $3,750 100x150 on Park Ave., $5,000 75140 on Park Ave,, $4,250 85x140 on Fairview St. $7,000 7 room Cottage on Park Aves, Lot 36150 $1,800, uest, and hoping at hastened to obey his wife’, brought her back to Rush least to solve the myster) conduct, Arranging a private mtery th Eliz Mrs. HutChinson inquired of her touc ing the cause of her troubles. The poor woman then burst out crying, and amid hysterical sobs and wild’ professions of aépentance, confessed that sh t stolen scores of articles from the wardrobe and pantry of .her mistry amounting in value'to hundreds of doliars. . Hitehinson was astounded, and at first cowd hardly believe the story; but as the truth came out, and the peni- tent’s revelations made her guilt quite cvident, it began to dawn upon Mrs. H. that she had fastered in her houschold a kleptomaniac f the most pronounced type. As'the distressed woman weut on Mrs. Hutchinson momentarily expected her to include the missing bonds “in her list of depredations, but o her surprise Eliza ended her con on without men- tioning them, Hutchinson then uestioned her on that point, but Eliza denied all knowledge of the bonds, and presently began to rave in suchan rm- ing fashion that her questioner desisted and begged her to be composed. From that moment the poor creature s hopelessly insane, She was imme- diately removed to the asylum at Indian- polis, where she died a year or two la Winle an inmate of the hospital here she was frequently visited by her former fricnds, but no art could induco her to tell what she evidently knew about the missing money, and to this day the wherenbouts of the $17,000 remains a profound mystery. The plundered heirs still talk of employing a_detective to work up the case, but nothing has been done since the death of Eliza Armstrong Huddleson. Only one incident is recalled by the family which points to a_possible clew; but as there is nothing definite to s upon in this instance they naturally he; tate about acting upon & mere suspicion. ‘The incident alluded to oces ed while the quest of the missing acy was in the hands ot the Rushville attorney. At that time the youngest daughter of Rev. Hutchinson was sent north by her parents on a trip to restore her failing heaith. She was accompanicd only by the faith: ful and ever attentive Eliza = Armstrong, They visi N ra falls and afterward extended theiv trip into Canada, While sojourning temporarily with a private family of English Canadians Miss Hutch- inson suddenly became quite ill, which necessitated an extension of her stay with the family, She remained bedfast four or five weeks and during this time Eliza formed an un- usually warm and friendly attachment for the Canadians. So marked was this attachment that the sick lady observed it with some surprise, but, of course, did not at the time associate with the cireum- stunces any suspicion of unlawful col- lusion. But since the more recent devel- opments regarding the true_character of her attendant on that occasion it is im- possible to regard the affair as bearin no significance whatover 1 the sum of strange incidents connected with the loss of the bonds, Whatrelation tius circum- stance may sustain Lo the facts of the rob- bery remains yet to be seen—perhaps, e My, Vining's Library. Chicago Current: Mr, E. P. Vining, of Chieago, the railroad commissioner, pos- sesses one of the most valuable collection of books on language which may be found in America, It is doubtful if there be a tongue spoken apout which Mr. Vining could not produce a book. The library numbers possibly 1,500 volumes, gencrally dictionaries,in Euglish,k rench, or German, Nearly 150 of the works ap- pertain exclusively to the aboriginal tongues of the New World, By looking at such a library one gets a vivid idea of the confusion ot tongues at Babel. Mr, Vining’s acquirements in philology are remarkable. We believe he has at’least a reading knowledge of seventeen lan- guages, and could command any dialect within an iuqrcdihl}' sbort time. His work “An Ihglorious Columbus,’” has won for him the aid of nearly all great scholars in spopiob. Brighton, B300. For an acre lot that for beauty of location, cannot be matched. Is reached by a delightful drive over level roads, and is positlvely the most de sirable suburban location that you can find in this market. Redick’s Grove Nearest, Fastest Selling and Cheapest lots, when you considerits nearness to town and that streetcars runto it, with schools, stores,churches and elegant residences surrounding it. It will pay you to see Redick’s Grove. BEFORE BUYING. STORY OF A BROKEN HEART. {;'nm 01«1‘ — lese word I'loyed Dora Merton from the first. “‘lm 1 s e Not only for her pretty brown eyes, wayy, | Come immediitel I did not stop to think over this s 1 only knew my s pite of the past—was ill, proba- ing, and wished to see me. I'nev hought of her being another’s wife. golden hair, and trim hitle figure, but her kind heart and amiable disposition as well, You might look the world over from one end to the other and never find agirl to compare with Dora, cither in | I Would go to her, of course. sOULY lOr Swoetness Teanst All the bitterness I had felt toward the point of beauty or sweetness of disposi- pooE little girl left me, and the love for uon. her that [ had partially smothered surged nd through me with rer 1, Dora loved me, too. s0, bui her every action showed i everybody in the town said it wasremark- ably fortunate—being a poor young doc- tor—to win the love of such a girl, who | “*Ng'Gna was at the station to meot me, could have had her pick from the best in | and without losing the time to hire a the land, as her father iest | vehicle, I started out to walk to the Mer- She not only said Iy I st v, and the darkness of night was settling oyer the world when 1 reached my destination. man in all the country round. ton eysioniacrogs 'i'"! fi]*!ldfl- M 1 A S Tre would take me by the old tr) About this time Ralph Clayton, a WwitraDorahadinetmesclofiaa happy days of the long ago. My mind was busy as I walked over the old familiar pathway. I thought of the girl—now probably lying within the pale of death—who had ‘wandered over these very ficlds, clinging trustingly to my arm, and_uttering vows of eternal love for me. I thought, too, of the man who had come between us with his ac- cursed gold and parted us forever, well- night wrecking my life and breaking the heart of poor Dora. L was drawing near old tryst-tree, and in the fast gathering twil.ght I saw a sight that sent the blood filying through my veins like acurrent of fire wealthy merchant of high standing, met and lost his heart to Dora, and became a constant vis 5 While I ws sured of Dora’slove and esteem | was positive that her father held quite a different opinion of me, and he soon made it evident that my atten- tentions to his daughter were distasteful to him. Clayton was a pompous man, some dozen years my senior, and on account of my inferior financial position in the world he always treated me with consid- erable condetrention. One day as we returned together from the Merton mansion he said to mo: “Conway, I think Dora Merton one of Leaning against the trunk of the tree, the nicest giris 1 ever met. She would | clad in a dress of spotless white, I saw ma model wife, and I am going to | the outline of a fragile female form. marry her. What do you think of that?"’ It was Dora. There could be no doubt “Why,” I replied, while the hot blood | about that, I knew the graceful figure rushed to my face, “I think she willnever | too well, and the sattitude was just the be your wifé, because she lovesand is en- | smne as she used to assume when sho guged to me,” g waited for me in the sweet long ago. *'0, that is nothing,” he coolly an- Yes, it Dora. She was not so ill, ered; “her father approves of me and | then, as thoy had thought her; she had n desires me for ason-n- | recovered and had came out to meet and s a very obedient and dutiful | surprise me. girl, and £ do not think the old man will Thus 1 thought as I rushed on to greet have any trouble all in gaining her | her. There never was such joy as mine. consent to marry me."” It was so great that L often wonder that Lhad always dishiked the man; now I | it did not kili. me then and there. fairly despised him, and it was with a | T was now close to her, but she never mighty effort that I restramned m, moved from striking him, # Uttering many endearing words I Dora had always been in the habit of | geized her hands, which were elasped bo- meeting me when L was called under o | fore her, and attempted to draw her to spreading maple tree some distance from | the house. 'The next day after my con- e hands were cold—0, so stony cold versation with Clayton she met me at the | and the great brown eyes had Such a usual place. I told her what Ralph Clay- | strange expression, and the face was so ton had said to me. worn and white that I released her hastily “0, Paul,” she exclaimed, *'I fervently | and recoiled several feet. pray that my father will not desire me to “My God I’ was my inward ejacula- marry that m; Yor Paul, I do notlove | tion, “*‘can my Dora have gone mad ¢ him—I cannot love him; but if my father | Has'her illness dethroned her reason " bids me marry him 1 dare not disobey. Suddenly she turned, and, fixing her But let us pray that he will not make any | star-like cyes on me, slowly said: such request, for [ love you Paul—only *‘Paul, your Dora is dead. You came you! and 1 believe I should die if we were | too late—1 died for love of you. Forget suimrnmd!" g me never, O, my darling. Farewell, returned to the village feeling every | farewell,” and noiselessly approaching me she pressed her icy lips to mine an disappeared Overcome with horror 1 found myself in Led at the residence of the old village doctor under whom I had first studied. He told me that I had been found under the old maple tree in a death-like way but buoixml, and passed a restless, sleepless night. A few days after that I received a note from old Merton, also one from Dora, The old man in a few words informed me that his daughter was soon to marry Ralph Clayton, and bade me discoutinue my attentions to her. 5 swoon; that three weeks had elapsed ora wrote me a tearful little note, re- | since then and I had been suffering trom turning the ring I had given her, ‘and | an attack of brain-fever, and in all that saying she loved only me, but duty and |{ obedience to her father compelled her to renounce me and never to sec me again, and closed by beseeching me to forgive her. pull. They cane pretty near killing yon, Neither of them stated when the mar- | as they did Dora, poor’g She diod a re was to take place, and I took wo | short ‘time before we found you. She r.nllcu!:lr pains to find out. That night | was calling for you all the time during entered a train bound for a distant | her illaess, and died with your name on town, where I intended to locate and | her lips. strive to forget the heartless girl, as [ then thought Ler, who hud treated me so cruelly. I did well in my new home, and, though the wound in my heart was past healing, it was not so sore as at first; time in a measure had deadened the pain. A[v and more fl:uw by, and all that time I had nev d any tidings timo I had talked of nothing but Dora, ghosts, and human cruelty. When I grow strong he said; “Old feliow, you'tuve hud a tough e — He Prefevred the Book ““Fhcre is a man, Mr. Spicer,” said a pia: vromenader, indicating an untiv. ing conversationalist who was wearying the enrs of a paticnt vietim, “who is a mine of information, a t encycelo- verfc from Dora. sdia.” Wai e v A ; | pedia Waiting until out of carshot tered and handed me a telegram. lost | but I prefer the encyclopedia in book form. uo time in reading it, and found it to be | ¥ou can shut that up you knosv. 11 'EARNINGS OF THE - BOXERS. Points for Young Men Who Think There is Moneyin Pugilism, The Pecuniar, English C Great y Circumstances of the ampions and of the ighters on This Side of the Water, New York Sun any young man adopt pugilism 1 would not about to begin & a profession fts roe wards are entirely disproportionate to its reanirements. To succeed even fairly well as a fighter requires exceptional courage, health, nctivie skill and strength. 1f to these were added eduoas tion, what a man we should havo. A champion fighter must havoe at losst three of those qualities almost in perfection, Let us see how many of tho champions of the ring have become vich or famous through their fistie celebrty, The first on the list is John Gully. Ho was cham- pion of England, and, being blossod with more than average intelligence, loft the ring and became a turfman. He got into a clique whose ways and means were not of the most praiseworthy and aequired considerable monoy. He was elected to parlinment, and is reputed to have died wealthy Next comes John Jackson, who was the tutor in boxing of Lord Byron, and owed lis title ntleman’ to him. He had the favor of the titled, but if he got much of their money he spent frec and left no cstate worthy of the name. Tom Beloher died poor, and Tom Crib, the greatest champion England ever had, kept a pub- lic house for years nfter ho retived from the ving, and Ldoubt if there was much left after his death when his debts were paid. The s ) d of his son- in-law succe: Tom Spring. Dan Don- nelly, the gr Irish champion, died poor, but Jack Langan was more provi- dent. He fought Spring twice for the mpionship of Engiand. The Irish de- that he sold both fights. Be that as it may, ho opened a public house in Liverpool shortly afte and through me rich and prosperous. he died he was reputed to be the owner of a nunber of houses. Jem Ward, the father of the modern school of boxing, after giving up fight- 2, for many yonrs koptn bublio. houbs in London. * Then he develoy talent for painting, but though his abilities were fair, he lacked business thrift, and i i wrs ago in a public char- . The bold Bendigo was h at his demise, and Deaf Burke nor Ben Caunt, his g competitors, The Tipton Slashe poor man, and Tom Sayoers retired from the ring on an annwty” provided for him by a subscription, which was headed by Lord Palmerston, then premier of Eng- land. Jem Mace 1s still ul]n'l He made agreat deal of money in his time, in bookmaking and 1n one way and another,but he spent it as fastas he made nd to-day is a poor man. Tom Pad- died in a hospital, I think, and Aaron Jones lies buried in the corner of arm out in Indiana; but for the char- of a friend he, too, would have died hospital. Old Joe Goss ended his S0 poor t the aid of friends ad to be invoked to put him decently under ground. The English ring, see, has not boen prolilic of rew its most distinguishe:l men. country the first real champion of Ame: head of the neap for cight years and always in high favor. His stake winnings i the viwgy bined, did not amount ta $3 profitable his barrooms were it v. They doubtle le him money, JiKe most of his kind, w nt,in s spending y the hands of the suicide in jal in C: dolla Tom bee adyi life to may be said died a kee Su ifornia, without Iyer, who, by conquer- me the idol of the can people, won $5,000 by so do- him, They were the only stakes he ever won in the ring. He kept barrooms and amblin, loons thereafter, but eventu ily his friends got lim u sub-chiefshipin New York fire department, Tom died poor. John Morrissey became gambler and politician and made a great deal of money, but it did not stick to him, and he left his widow but a moiety of what he once po: John C. Heenan, the * famed Beni boy, married a sensational réss, and after she left him he was staked in the gambling business by his old opponent, suceessful us i gamble he went to England, where he amassed quite a fortunc in bookmaking. He spe:lj it all, returned to this countrv and dis comparatively poor while en route for California. Domin Bradley made a very little out of the ring. He was nd was worth u few when he died, Sam ipal competitor, was s L i nd died ba wu- cunious in Ireland a few years ago. kfl McCool might ve been a vi il He had a profitable saloon i St. s, and married rich contractor’ ghter, but strong drink, love of low and lack of business qualities were He now alternates between ng on the Mississippi stenmers 1z in cotton presses on ) leveein New Orleans, ‘T'om Allen made zood degl of money in the saloon and vas v business St.Louis, but he lost u.fi:n‘ fuf at. He is back in the old tr hlc the Mound but 1 have not seen name published in any late list of willionaires, Joe Coburn has hand y a dollar in his time, but, th e has many faults, stinginess hus n among th nd the many sh might hivd have gone where the wi bine twineth Johnny Dwyer hadn’t a rwhen he d 0w, and Ji Elliott was as about as badly of’ wi pussed in his cha Pad icawber, I8 waiting f turn up that will l.u'mrz him fortune. has about given up all ideas of tame, John L, Sullivan has made more out of the ring than any dozen ever lived, 15 share of the di “'gates’’ of the contests he has fig must have been fully §100,000. not spent his money, but has i thrown it away, and to-day ho is far being a well-to-do man. Jack Burke b he most prosperous of all the for- ign lighters of the present day, and I doubt if he is worth near "as as itis thought. I think $15, E ut the extent of his hoard Cnarley M ell 18 another proy N il Hg is credited with about of a bank account, Billy Edwards owns a couple of houses, and Arthur Chambers has a good Br‘m f erty and business in Philudelphia, Sulli- an told me once that Billy Madden had saved §11,000 out of the money he made when with him. If he did e must comfortable now, for he certainly ad £5.000 to his bank acconnt when™ he had Mitehell. The: ‘w of the notable instances which prove the truth of my | premtses. It will be seen that even when Ppuglhsis have mnde money it has not = stuck to This is du ave no proper “Easy got, ensy g they fully exemplify Their assoel are scldom of the kind that are e prudent on thrifty, but, on the contrarg, wro carousers and spenathrifts, whoss is n maxim of nim 15 Lo s specdily as poss sible, and as expensively,