Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, July 10, 1887, Page 14

THE OMAHA DAILY BEE: SUNDAY JULY THREE TYPES OF FEMININITY. Illustrating the Passion for Gambling Among the Gentlor Sex. BEAUTY AT THE RACE COURSE, Clothed Better Than Capid—A Sharp Photographer — Arsenical Lozen- gers—Two Chinese Girls—Clara Belles Letter. New York, July 7.—[Correspond- ence of the Bee.]—Women are going to the races more than e this season, I must say that, as a general thing, they are plain and unattractive representa- tives of the sex. Morcover, an astonish- ing number of them fat. Not a plump, cubby fatness, but a gross, mate rinl deposit of adiposo tissue that com- pletely destroys all symetry of form and grace of movement, At least half of them are elderly or positively otd, and in some cases it seems diflicult to reconicle the dignity of years with the staking of money on a pool ticket. For they all bet, the wife with her mother-in-law, the old lady with her daughter, and in one case at least with her granddaughter also. The case reterred to involved a group of eleven peovle who had gone to Bheepshead bay together, Many other persons on the grand stands knew them, and exchanges of nods and conversations with ng men were frequent. In the front row sat a small, wizened old lady, with one of those fa that betoken considerable suffering in life. Although she placed her bet with due deliberation on every race, and kept the tally of the jockeys on her programm her eyes wandered during the intermi sions, and she saw only the scenes of the troubled pust. Her son and his wife sat with her. They were all plain people in fuce and dress, Just back of them was heavy-featured man and one _of the fat women, She was stylishly dressed and doud 1n her talk. [ could nottell whether they were related to their friends in front or not. The other people in the party were certainly all of the same family. FOUR WOMEN AND TWO ME) Three of the women were fat: a silver- haired matron with cye-glasses, two lhnfihwrn approaching forty, and a fair, handsome girl of about eighteen. The Jatter was evidently the daughter of one of the “‘forty” women, All except th girl giggled and laughed behind their programmes immoderately. The men in the party went to the betting pavillion at the conclusion of each race, and presently returned with word as to how bets were running on the next race. Then ensued & lively discussion of the chances, and, after a goml deal of backing and filling, the women drew forth their purses and turned over five dol Jars apiece to the men with instructions how to place it. And after the men had gone it was no uncommon thing for one or more of the women to cail a white- capped messenger boy and send another five after the first. ~ During the race itself they all craned tfieir necks and strained their eyes to wateh the progr wof the horses, and evinced the keenest citement ag 1t drew to aclose. When they won there was a good deal of hys- terical laughter and exultant exclama- tion, and when they lost there was the same amount of pouting, and head shuk- ing, and plenty of insisting that after all their judgment had been right, for the trouble lay in the unlucky position of the horse at the pole, or in the stupid work of the rider. For it seems that the race gambler cannot crr. The two old women alone commented little on their yentures. Their manners indicated that they were gchooled to disappointment, and t they knew from long experience with life that the successes of the day are in- significant trifles unworthy a serious thought. But I would wager $5 even that not one of them ‘lost or won without bonnet and dress pro- cts being mentally varied accordingly. 'hese people were fair specimens in their demeanor of the majority of the women resent. ‘Lhore were here and there ashionably dressed, haundsome women but they ncted very muoh alike. At least one in three varied the monotony of horse talk with chew! gum, know the chew of gum _at sight; it was not caramels, and if I wanted assurance of it should have been satistied when I over- rd a young lady recall a messenger ng him instructions how to bet her money, and say to him: ‘‘Take this mickel and drop 1t in the machine by the , and get me a paver of gum.” A few minutes later her chops were waging h&nil A sure rulo on the gum matter 48 this: if the mouth 15 kept open, or allll at every other chew, it is gum, If m closed it is caramels. are THREE TYPES OF FEMININITY #een at the grand stand., A large mid- aged woman with a baby in her arms, She sat in the front row deeply bed in the contests. Before the afternoon was over the baby grew ampatient, and in that skillful way that women know, the mother managed, hout attracting embarrassing atten- sion, to supply the infant with natural food. The impatient whines were at once stilled, and the baby rested peace- y in her arms. But presently the racers came speeding down the quarter streteh. It was nip and tuek between two favorites, and one of them was the one the woman had backed with her five ars. Her eyes dilated with excite- ment, and her lipsseparated in the agony of suspense, Leap by leap her horse drew away from his rival, and as they passed her and went under the wire she saw that she was a winner, six for one! Bhe almost screamed with exultation. inly she made some kind of a noise, but what it wus could not be told; it was Jost in the howling of deep-throated me: Her left hand waved her handkerchief in air, and she smiled and smled. hen the storm was over a fecble wail went up from the bal or her right arm, It recalled the moth ~ her duty. and the infant was reac, sted. The emotion attendant upon winning a bet had thrown mattars out of balance temptorarily, and the baby failed to enjoy the sltuation, low-eyed brunette in widow's . She was a fair picture to look upon and at her side was her mother in attire. The mother was eagerly ing in her opinion of the merits of » borse and the widow had prudently bet oo her favorite for a place. Another hulf' came from her seat near by And shook hands with the widow an :\Mr. After the change of aiy widow sunk back into her languid W and the friend said to the mother: " you make unything on the last " “No,” was the reply, “1 never the field. 1 don't care much for i, you know, but I wish we might something nice on Julie's account. ‘e have backed Exile for this race and I do hope we shall get it; I think it might @ivers Julie 5o much. She hasan't taken antrest in anything, poor dear, since died. And that was fwily six 3 0! A 'lmlsfnbroly dressed women stand- mtly side by side at the steps lead- from the grand stand to the ting walion. They are within twenty feet of ling mass of men who stand before the placards of the book- Each holds a small black m her hand and they cast sh at the men who pass before t nd then a man who goes by into tho outstretched hand of one omen. It goes at once into the the tips of the recei mov aud the silent, patient attitude 18 resumed. From where they stand | they can look out from under their black bonnets and see the horses cantering down the quarter stretch. Maybe they do not do it; may be they keop their s steadfastly on the ground; but when it is over they glance keenly about for a winner and undoubtedly hope that his exultation will make him generous to the church as well as to the poor blind man who with an outstretched hat not far How curious it is that ladies of the most fastidious character will sitina crowded auditorium and laugh at pro! ty ana double meaning on the stage that would be shocking in their drawin, rooms. Now, there is Marie, who wi not let her husband’s best friend visit her breause he oceasionally swears an ensy word, but she will seréam with laughter when the actor Stoddard bulges his eyes, makes o mouth like a newly eaught cod- fish, and rips out & snorting oath, She will rock with merriment when old John Ibert, stuck up on his stilts of legs, gots red in the face and makes the upper air about him blue with profanity. You almost cxpect she will go home and swear cheerfully herself that sentences they will accept from the same source, 1 remember not long ago a play at Wal- lack’s had some risky language in it. A matron had sat it out without_a blush in company with her children, Next morn- ing at breakfast, Kate, the terror, began to tell an clder sister, who had notat- tended the performance, about the picce. The naughty but bright things clung to her memory, and she began repeating them with great gusto, J senses!” burst out mother, “how dare you say such A COARSE VULGAR TIHING, I'm ashamed ot you." i “I heard it last night,” whimpered {ate. “Never mind if you did—you should know better than to repeat such horrid things.”” Kate looked bewildered. It was beyond her to understand a rule that ad- mitted | ing such things said in o crowded tneatre, and forbade their repe- tition 1n the seclusion of her own family circle. Little Johnny Fresh, aged six, walked into his mother’s xlmw'mg room before a party of guests, having come down from his evening’s bath with lus pelt to make some complaint. “Goodness,” shricked one, “‘take away that child. What u dreadful sight.”” “1 aint no dreadfuller than him,"” shouted back Johnny, as he pointed to a big statue of Cupid, *‘and got more clothes on. Look at my porous plaster onto my back.” It must be admitted that here and there a man understands the nature of woman. Down at Coney Island photographic tents abound, and the competition is so brisk that each estublishment keeps a solicitor outside. There is onec excep- tion to this rule. A plausible photo- guapher, as soon as he 1s through with one job, steps out of his place, waits un- til a group of cxcnruiomsmc%;ne along containing one or more little ¢hildren, and then politely says to the mother: “Beg pardon, madam. but can I borrow your child for a minute or two? Iam g£oing to make a fancy picture for a cus- tomer, and 1 nced just such a pretty girl (or boy) to put into it. I'won't detain you long, and it will be a great favor,” " Thé proud, foud pa- rent consents, of course, and the oper- ator g ly poses and photographs” the your tle expresses profound tha , and says never a word about ng copies of the picture—a cheap type. The mother asks if he will let her buy one, or probably more, as she is tremendously flattered by the choice of her offspring as a model. ~ Thus the chap keeps his business going through dull he greatest alarm spread over the in habitants of a great flat bouse uptown. Little Johnny 5um|)\m had found a box of hus mother's arsenical lozenges that she took carefully three a day for her complexion, and he had eaten ‘all at one sitting. Servants flew for doctors and doctors flew for the flat. Every known remedy for arsenic poisoning was admin- istered. One physician rattled off in his coupe to the maker of the beautifying pills. In hasty accounts he related the case, and begged to know what propor- tion of arsenic infested a Lox of his wafers. ‘“‘Be under no alarm,” said the doctor, ‘‘take the stomach pump out of little Johnny. There isn't ' A PARTICLE OF ARSENIC in_abarrel of ’em. ‘Lhey contain some- thingumtrromotrs digestion and stirs the torpid live! .lolum%"s liver may be abnormally active for a few days, and he can eat a paper of tacks with as much con- fidence as if he were an ostrich, but no further effects will be felt from my matchless wafers.” *There is no arsenic 1 arsenijeal loz- enges then?” ‘“‘Not u grain; but women do hanker to take something with arsenic in. The name is a great succt and my pills are suving lots of ladies from the damaging effects of arsenical solution and other preparations of that fatal drug.’” The report of the doctor at the Al- dobells flats relieved our fond mother’s heart, but ever so many ladies are dis- gusted that they have been taking rhu- barb and looking daily in their anxious faces for the work of arsenic. Among the children who have been brought to the attention of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty are two Chinese girls, It was claimed that they had been kidnapped in San Francisco two years ago, and were held here for the purpose of selling them as wives to resident celestials, The charge was not proven, and for the present at least, the case has been nbandoned. The GIRLS ARE A NOVELTY here. Asn other places, the Chinese do not permiv their wives or daughters to be seen on the strect. "There are sev- eral Chinese women in this city, and when it happened that they have been brought into court, or into the presence of people with a mussionary spirit, they haye said that they had not been out of the house before for months, sometimes for mor 1 a year, and 1 one well authenticated case tt was a little over two years since a female resident of Mott street had set her foot outside her tene- ment. It was not quite so bad in the cases of the girls, but for weeks at a time it has been the habit of their guardians to keep them shut up at home. The ‘‘home" is near the head of Mott street, in & four-story building devoted partly to trade and manufacture. Cigars are made on the first floor and there is & store there also. Up stairs is another commercial establishmens, and in the top stories are tenements. ‘The rooms are, of course, small and illfitted for habitation. 1In that respect the heathen girls are as well oft as thousands of their ian fellow beings of the east side. f them is dressed in the American fashion, aud but for the old waddle that passes for ner gait would not be taken a Chinese at a distance. The other TS & native costume. It cunsists tirst a blouse that hangs from the neck to the knees, not helted or eaught in any way at the waist. lLoose trousers are over the ligs and bound at the bottom closely around the ankles. The shoes are thick soled, wooden aftairs familiar as the foot cov- crings of common laundrymen, but they are excessively small and” bear witness to the cramping of the feet customary with the Chinese. Both blouse and trousers are of 4 pale blue color unadorned with figures, 1t 15 the ordinary costume of the Chinese of the poorer class. The shiny black hair of the girl dressed like an American was brushed straight back from the brow and wound into a great knot at the vack of the head. The other dressed her hair in the native style. Over each ear was a flat, thin ecir- cular disk of hair that looked as if it might Lave been made of artiticial par and stuck to the head. All Chinese women learn early how to do. this. gllmmy pomade is essentinl to the task, ut it takes considerable skill to weave and wind this hair into its thin_sand cir- culary position. So littie hair is used in these disks that eno\:(zh is left for a large coil which is fastene: of the head, ten and the other twelve years old, could speak a word of English, CLARA BELLE. ——— INGERSOLL ON BEECHER. The Great Infidel's Eloquent Eulogy on the Prince of Pulpit Orators, From the Beecher Memorial Volume: Henry Ward Beecher was bornin a Puri- tan penitentiary, of which his father was one of the wardens—a prison with very narrow and closely grated windows. Under its walls were the raviess, hope less and measul s dungeons of the damned, and on its roof fell the shadow P eternal frown. In this prison the erced and eatechism were primers for children, and from a pure sense of duty their lov were ined and scarred i the religion of John Caivin, In those days the home of an orthodox minister an inquisition in which babes were tortured for the good of ir souls, Children then, as now, re- belled against the infamous absurdities reed. No Calvinist s with blows, to an- swer the questions of his chila. Children were raised in what was called *‘the nur- nd admonition of the Lord”—that , their wills were broken or sub- dued, their ures deformed or dwarfed, their desires defeated or destroyed, their development arrested or perve: i robbed of its spring, its summer and its autumn, Children stepped from the eradle into the snow. No laughter, no sunshine, no joyous, free, unburdened da God, an infinite detective, watched them from above, and satan, with ma- licious lecr, was waiting for their souls below, Between these monsters life ¥ ed, Infinite consequences were pre dicted of the smallest action, and a bur- den greater than a god could bear was placed upon the brain and heart of every child, To think, to ask questions, to doubt, to investigate, were acts of rebel- lion, To express pity for the lost, writh- ing in the dungeons below, was simply to give evidence that the enemy of souls heen at work within their hearts, mong all the religions of this world— from the creed of cannibals who devoured flesh to that of Calvinists who polluted souls—there is none, there has been none, there will be none more utterly heartls and inhuman than was the orthodox Congregationalism of New E 1 in the year of grace 1813, 1t despises every natural joy, hated pictures, abhorred stutues us lewd and lustful things, exe- crated musie, regarded nature as fallen and corrupt, man as totally depraved, and women as something worse. The theater was the vestibule of perdition, actors the servants of satan, and Shaks- peare a tnfling wretch, whose words were seeds of death. And yet the virtues found a welcome, cordial and sincere; duty was done as understood; obliga- i ¢ discharged; truth wuas told; selt-denial was practiced for the sake of othe and hearts were good and true in spite of book and creed, In this atmosphere of theologieal mi- nia, in this hideous dream of supersti- tion, in this penitentiary, moral and aus- tere, this babe first suw the imprisoned gloom, The natural desires ungratified, the the Tlogic brow imor frozen by were in this fear—of many e i ned to rend and wreck child, & child d the prison’s walls. ‘Through the grated windows of his ecll this child, this boy, this man, caught glimpses of the outer world, of fields and skies. New thoughts were in his bramn, new hopes within his heart. Another heaven bent above his life. There came arevelation of the beautiful and real. Theology grew mean and small. Nature woocd and won and saved this mighty soul. Her countless hands were sowing seeds withic s tropic brain. All sights and ounds—all colors, forms, and fragments were stored within the treasury of his mind. His thoughts were molded by the graccful curves of streams, by winding paths in woods, the charm of quiet coun- try ronds, and lanes grown indistinet with weeds and gr. by vines tha chng and hide with leaf and flower the crumbling wall’s dceay-=by cattle stand- ing in the summer pools like statues of content. There was within kis words the subtle spirit of the season’s change--of every- thig that 1s, of everythi thut lies be- tween the siumbering s that, half- awakened by the April rain, have dreams of heaven's blue and feel the amorous kisses of the sun, and that strange tomb wherein the alchemist doth give to death’s culd dust the throb and thrill of lite_again. He saw with loving eyes the willows of the meadow streams grow red beneath the glance of spring—the grass along the marsh’s edge—the sur of life beneath the withered leaves—the moss below the arip of snow—the flowers that give their blos- soms to the first south wind that wooe: the sad and timid violets that only bear the gnze of loye from eyes half closed— the ferns where lancfr gives a thousand forms with but a single plan—the green and sunny slopes enriched with daisy’s silver and the cowslip’s gold. As in the leafless woods some tree aflame with life stands hke a rapt poet in the heedless crowd, so stood this man among his ow-men. All thore is of leaf and bud, of flower and fruit, of painted insect life 1 all the winged and happy children of the air that summer holds beneath her dome of blue, were known and loved by him. He loved the yellow autumn fields, the golden s ks, the happy homes of men, the orchard’s bending bows, the sumach’s flags of flame, the maples with tran figured leaves, the tender yellow of the beech, the wonderous harmonies of brown and gold—the vines where hang the clustered spheres of wit and mirth, He loved the winter days, the whirl and drift of snow—all forms of frost—the rage and fury of the storm, when in the forest, desolate and striped, und the brave old pinetowers green and grand—a prophecy of spring. He heard the rl?thmic sound of nature's busy strife, the hum of bees, the songs of birds, the eagle's cry, the murmar of the streams, the sighs and lamentations of the winds, and all th voices of the sea. He loved the shol the vales, the crags and cliffs, the city’s busy streets, the introspective, sicnt plain, the solemn splendors of the night, the silver sea of dawn, and evening's clouds of molten gold. The love of nature freed this loving man, One by one the fetters fell; the gratings appeared,the sunshine smote the roof, d on the floors of stone light streamed rom open doors. He realized the dark- ness and despair, the cruelty and hate, the starless blackness of the old malig- nant creed. The tlower of pity grew and blossomed in his heart. The selfish ‘‘consolation’ filled his eyes with tears. He saw that what is called the Christian's hope is that among the countless billions wrecked and lost a meagre few perhaps may reach the eternal shore—a hope that, like the dessert rain, gives neither leaf nor bud—a hope that gives no joy, no peace to any great and loving soul, 1t is the dust on which the serpent feeds that coils in heartless breasts. Day by day the wrath and vengeance faded from™ the sky—the Jewish God grew vague and dim—the threats of tor- ture and eternal pain grew vulgar and absurd, aud all the miracles seemed straugely out of place. Tuey clad thein- finue‘fn motley garb and gave to aure- oled heads the cap and bell; ‘Touched by the pnathol f all human lite, knowiog g & at the top and back | Neither of these grls, one | every heart-the thorns in every path, A | the sighs, the sorrows, and the tears that lie between a mother’s arms and death's embrace—this great and gifted man de- nounced, denied and damned with all his heart the fanged and frightful dogma that souls were made to feed the eternal hunger—ravenous as a famine—of a God's revenge. Take out this fearful, fiendish, heart- 1ess lie—compared with which all other 1 es arc true—and the great arch of or- tihodox religion, erumbling, fall T'o the average man the Christian hell and heaven are only words. He has no scope of thought. He lives but in a dim, impoverished now. To him the past is dead—the tuture still unborn. He occu- pies with downeast eyes that narrow line of barren, shifting sand that lies between the flawing seas. But genius knows ail time. For him the dead all live and breathe and act their countless parts again, All human life is in his now, and every moment feels the thrill of all to be. No one can overestimuate the good ac- complished b{ this marvelous, many- sided n He helped to sluy the heart- devourin monster of the Christian world. He tried to civilize the church, to harmonize the creeds, to soften pious breasts of stone, the fear from hearts, the chain of creed from n, to put the star of hopein and over every grav :Ked on every side, maligned by those who preached the law of love, he wavered not, but fought whole-hearted to the end. Obstruction is but virtue's foil. From thwarted light leaps color's flame—the stream impeded as & song. Me passed from harsh and cruel ereeds serene philosophy that has no for pride or hate, that threatens no revenge, that looks on sin as stumblings of the blind und pities those who fali knowing that in the souls of all the sacred yearmng for the light, He ceas to think of man as something thrust upon the worli—an exile from some other sphere. He felt at last that men are part of nature clf—Kindrea of all life—the gradual growth of countless years; that all the sucred books were helps until out- grown and all religion’s rough and de- vious paths that man has worn with weary feet in | painful search for truth and To him the were wrong, yet all gave promis cess. He knew that all the streams, no matter how they wander, turn, and curve amid the hills and rocks or linger in the lakes and pools, must some time reach the . These views enlarged his soul and made him patient with the world, and while the try snows of age were fall- ing on his head, spring, h ail her ealth of bloom, was in his heart. ‘The memory of this ample man is now a part of nature’s wealth, He battled for the rights of man. His heart was with the slave. He stood against the seltish greed of millions banded to protect the pirate’s trade. His voice was for the right when freedom’s friends were few. He taught the church to think and doubt.. He did not fear to stand alone. His brain took counsel of his heart. To every foe he offered reconcihation’s hand. = He loved this land of ours, and added to its glory through the world. He was the greatest orator that stood within the pul- pit's narrow curv He loved the liberty of speech. There was no trace of bigot in hisblood. He was a brave and ge erous'tan, and so, with reverent hands, [place this tribute 'on his tomb. Ropert G. INGERSOLL, o XA A THIRSTY PARADISE. A Tropical Eden in the Middle of the Colorado Desert. From the Argonaut: In the middle the Colorado desert there is a curious d pression in the earth’s surface, through which the Southern Pacific railroad runs, The lowest point is 260 feet below the sea level, and here is a great body of more pure than any known to coinmerc and in all abundance that. may supply the world if all other rvesources should hausted. From a pomnton the road Indio the descentds rapid to this place of salt. 1t was onec an inland sea, from phich the waters have apparently passed away by evapotation, leaving salt deposit that resemblesice. Standing upon its margin, we lookupon a perfectly level and white crust of salt, some thirty or fortp miles,an length by perhaps twenty in width, . A tramway s lnid over the crust to a distance of more than a mile, over which a steam dummy and train of freight cars run to the mill where the salt ig ground. Bet yond the mill a smailer engine pushes its smuller ¢ her out upon the salt crust where the salt is gathercd. Labor- ers. proviaed each with = wheelbarrow, shovel and adze, go out upon the salt field, pick the surface to the depth of an inch or two, gather barrow loads, and wheel them to the cars. The salt crust varies in thickness; in some places it is but a few inches above the mud and water, and in some places nearly five feet in thickness. erpool salt must be kiin dried before being ground. Nature sends this to the mill so dry that it mayv ground as fine as flour. At the mill it is bugged and marked for shipment, and 1s ready for table or dairy use. This salt is 99 per cent pure, and is placed upon the market as *“New Liverpool.” It isundoubtedly the best and purest sait in the market. “Itis on therising slope from this salt mine, some twenty miles away and in the very [heart of the great Colorado desert, that the Southern Pacific people have struck urtesian water. At u depth of 450 feet a flow of 1,800 gallons an hour has been brought to the surface. The bore 1s being pushed downward for fur- ther demonstration. This discovery of artesian water has caused the location of about two townships of land, which i zood soil, being covered with a of mesquite shrubbery and weeds. the station, “Indio,” where the com- pany had found water for train nse by pumping, there is o growth of pepper, ocust, cottonwood and palm trees, all doing well and attaming great growth Grapes, watermelons, tomatoes, roses, geraniums and morning-glories are there scen in flourishing condition, Grapes and watermelons will ripen this month of June. » The gentiemen who have located this tropical Eden will experiment in the di- rection of tropical productions. Already they talk of coiton, coffee and tobacco. That it will produce benner oranges than San Bernardino or Riverside they do not doube. San Francisco is to receive from this paradise its early watermelons, its berries and sweet potatoes. Only a few miles from the line of the road is'a grove of 1,000 date palms, reaching a great height, and bearing the Fsal but very small and inferior date. The foot hills ure skirted all along with these palm trees. In these mountains, it is said, are productive valleys well plied with water, but sinks when it reaches the level of the plain. This is & marvelous and wonderful land, and nothing caused the writer greater surprisc than the soil and water discoveries constantly being made in these desert places. Places that are very inaccessible, that are embedded i mountain canons and aw. from civilization, are Lecoming the luxurious homes of industrious amd enterprising people who have the nerve to go some- what beyond the confines wnd boundaries of present “genteel” life. What a God's blessing it would be to the members of Henry George's Anti-Poverty party if some kind, powerful genie would clothe them all, and then lift them up out of the city slums, tenement-houses,polities, gin, idleness and crime, into these mountain and desert homes where poverty is only known and destitution only felt by those who are unable or unwilling to toil. Through the eiforts of Miss Emma Harri man the California legislitare has passea a bill providing for seientine temperance in- adows tbat fall on | strugtion iu the public schools COMSTOCK'S PROUD DEATIH The First Legal Execution in Sweetwater County, POETRY ON THE SCAFFOLD. How the Death of Jacob Van Vliet Was Avenged—A Pompous Execu- tion in Which the Con- demned Took Pride, Kangas City Times: The recent hang- ing of Snced recalls an execution in Wyoming territory, away buck in the early days. The execution was a novel one, and was long regarded as the most surprisingly unique affair which had ever claimed the attention of the then rough people of the border—simply because it was a legal one. The lynching of a man would have been regarded as a very ordi- nary affair and would have attracted no more attention than a spirited dog fight or a suicide, but the idea of a man com- mitting a murder, being arrested, in- dicted, tried, convicted and hanged in a purely legal manner was a strange one to the inhabitants of that frontier town On this oceasion the vietm was Ed Comstock, known in elite cireles as *Big Foot Ed,” and the circumstances attend- ing the crime for which he was so oddly roped into eternity were, as n as I ean recall them, about as follow: John Van Vliet had long been working a placer claim n Huhn'’s peak, and taken out what he believed to be sutlicient dust to p over the remainder of the journey of life very comfortably. - solved to go back to ‘“‘the states,” and with this end in view sold the claim, loaded his dust and personal property on a pack horse and set out across the moun- tains for the n tation. “Big Foot Ed™ sted the miner in all his preparations for the journe, and his covetous ey had rested upc the treasure, which” was stowed away in buckskin bags. He resolved to secure the dust, and after Van Viiet had taken the tortuous- trail over the range the burly desperado went by a shorter cut and planted himself behind a large rock by which the miner must pass.” When the latter reached the spot he heard the command, “Throw up your hands,” and saw a brace of heavy revolvers looking in his face witha cold, grim, determined stare. Van Vliet was a brave man, and iustead of stabbing the atmosphere over- head with trembling hands, as many would have done, he made a ‘,:rub for his own pistol, but ere he could draw 1t from 1ts seabbard there was a flash, a loud port and he fell dead on the trail. Tl murderer hid the body of his vietim in the rocks, took a bag of the dust for present use, cached the remainder, turned the horse loose and returned to camp. ‘That same afternoon he was a prisoner 1n the hands of the vigilan ommittee. A young man who w hunting in the mountains witnessed the murder from a place of concealment above the tr came in and reported 1t, and Ed's arrest s]v.‘lmdi!\‘ followed. udge Lynch was soon in his terrible seat, and the eulprit was arraigned for | at what the roughs used to denom- law game in which all the per- centage was 1n favor of the bank.” When the sclection of a jury was about to begin Tom Ianna, a ‘grizzly old-timer, Most honorable jedge and fellow eiti- zens: Itisn’tme as 'd buck agin the wishes o' the people. Tt isn’t me as'd have the onreconstructed check to even iint at anything that 'd turn the tide o’ impromptu law from its course through the channels o' this honorable court, but 1 have an idee. Mark you, ver honor, 1 have an ide I bave the interests o' th town at heart, fur I have property 'yar, at hurts the town "1l hurt Tom and the fellow stians as hold ar likewise **We all know that Pine City bin a buckin’ agin our prosperity for months, and every time she makes a point, she ows till the clarion tones penetrate the thickets way beyond the Missou river. Now, they hunz a man over there last week--hung him ‘cordin’ to the Jaw an’ the profits arter a reg’lar trialin the legal court, an’ since then, yer honor an’ feller citizens, the Pine gang has been putting on more agony than u peacock with his tail unfurled. They talk to us about their progress, civilizin’ advancement, the Christ perrit o’ their acts, their transmogrification from border 'ignor- ance an’ brutal instincts to refinement an’ back seat culture, an’ yer honor, they laugh at us, an’say we are so fur behfnd in the race that w the dust arisin’ from their various hoof: “Now, 1 jest want ter suggest, y honor, that we can't afford to let Pine City occupy the entire areaon top o the dunghill o’ pride an’ progress an’ do all the crowin’, an’ { don’t believe it'd re- flect 2 mite upon our personal characters fur rectitude an’ uprighteousness to shut Ed up till next month'sterm o’ court an’ then try him an’ hang him with appro- priate ceremonies, an’ amid all the pomp an’ panoply o' legal justice, ‘The 1dea was a new one, and Ed was by a unanimouns vote, held to await the actionot the grand jury. This action met with the unqualitied approval of the people ut large. John Stimson, the store- keeper. who boasted of having a son teaching school in Iowa, remarking that “legal legality was far more open to ap- provableness in tl day an’ gineration than illegal illegality could ever b and, too, he thought the sport o' witne in’ the exeeutional obsequies *d interes the United States hon'able jedge an’sort- { his affections to the town,” hall not enter into the detail trial. Ed was convicted and sentenced with all due solemnity to be hanged vy the neck until dead, the sentence \\'llnlinfi up with the usual prayer, and I may adc the only pray western judge ever per- mitted to gain eg from his lips. evervthing arranged in proper shape, Tom?" asked Ed of the sheriff on the morning of the day set for the exceu tion, “Nothin’ bin left undone, Ed, an’. the thing’s a-goin’ to be a grand suces The posts o'the scaffold ‘s bin feschoone with flowers by the girls, an’ they've tied red, white an' blue ribbons on the rope above the noose. An' they're goin’ ter sing a song, too—they're a practisin’ on it now—a song that begins: **Adoo, adoo, vain world adoo, Avauut, an’ quit my sizbt, For soon T'll cross the rubieind “To realms of quenchless light, Adoo ol’ pardners of the canip, Whom I mus’,leave behind; 1 ['m not re :rettul, fur I'he mill o’ the gods mus grind.” “It war' writ by John Stimson, the store-keeper, an’ he says 1t is the one crownin’ triumphant effort of his declin- in' years. I tell yon Ed, you'd orter be a proud man to get sich® a gorgeous send- oft.” “Iam, an'l am goin’ to do my le best to make lnysvl? worthy o' the ocea- sion an’ make it pleasin’ an’ interestin® fur the boys. Bnt say, wouldn 't it muke Pine creek look sick 1f we could ring in a gospel man to taper the thing off in a style, by flirtin’ his jaw on & suitful rayer, an’ sort o' consolin’ of me, you now, durin’ the progress o' the enter- tainment, They allers do it in the of the t *We thought o’ that, Ed, but thar isn’t y pilot on the range, an' we can't git nobody to pluy preacher, We be Ike Long to do it, fur he looks like a par- son, you know, but he kicked back’nrds with both f much. He to do any- d he was willir n’ said that was axin’ too | | man but he had a character at stake, an’ a family backin the states, an’ he didn’t perpose to perpose to sully one and pain the other by makin’ sich a wild play as that. An' he was right, too, Ed, you know thut." “'Course e was. I wouldn't do it my- self. Wal, we'll make it go off pleasant, nyhow., I gve the boys a speoch that'll please 'em, an'that, with the girls’ singin’ an’ the drap an' the subsequent funeral'll do fust rate fur the first at affold was erected on a flat on nks of the creck. It was, as the told the condemncd, tastefully srated with wild lowers, pine boughs and ribbons and presented 'a very hand- some and attractive appearance. In the center of the cross beam, from which the rope dangled, was a wreath of cedars en- cireling the sentiment: arewell, farewell, our bruther dere, Thi loss will leave us lonely heer, ‘The floor of the scaffold was strewn with freshly cut grass, and two framed chromos, borrowed trom the elipper sa- loon hung on the upright posts. Nothing that would enhance the beauty of the scene or contribute to the pleasure of the condemned seemed to have been over- looked. It was a gala day in the little moun- tain town. At an early hour the inhabi- tants were astir, and the coming enter- tainment was the one theme of sation. The men put on their best clothes, and the *girls,” the inevitable adjunet to every mining camp, arrayed their frail forms in all their finery in honor of the geeat oceasion. iz Foot Ed” was the hero of the day, and wishes that his journcy along the mystie trail which connected this world” and the mysterious realms beyond were drunk in many bumbers of fierry liquor, An hour before the time set for the ex- ercises to begin the people began to flock to the spot where the gaily decor- ated gallows stood, its gaudy trappings suggesting anything but death, and it was soon the center of a motely erowd of miners, gamblers, hunters, frail women and a slight sprinkling of In- dians, The announcement soon spread among the crowd that the procession was ap- proaching. Ed walked beside the sherift with a proud step, and smiled cordially upon the multitude when he had as- cended the seaffold. He was provided with aseat and Shenft Sam addressed the neovle as follows: *‘Fellow citizens: This is an orspicious oceasion, an’ I'm proud to be able to ofli- ciate here in my officious character of sherift of this ’ere county. The suceess of the happy event is a dead sure thing, an’its goin’ to go off in u very pleasur- able manner. I'now have the felicity to announce that John Stimson, dealer in gineral merchandise, miners' supplies, Fuus, ammunition, whisky, etc., as he has requested me to announce, will recite an original poem originated expressly for the occasion. oy Mr. Stimson cam颒'to the front, and bowed imperiously. *“The good sheriff neglected to add ‘cheap for cash,’” he said, “but that makes no particular dif ference, u8 the most on yon know my un- flinchable terms.’” He “thien, in a really dramati recited the following: WHAT 18 DEATH? Pray, what is death? s but_ a, trip, Beyond this valg of tears— *, "I'is but a shppin of the grip, A bursting of the gears. A1’ then we sleep to wake agin Beyond the cares of T'o play the heavenly cherubim For all the thing is worth, This life is but a fitful dream, As gifted pen has writ * when across the m Our tired spirits flit, Ourselves we'll soon habftuate _An’ never shed a tear r nash an’ whisky straight, those spirits here. re nll assembled hore to-day witness Edward’s doom, him make his final play uble up the flume. its here quictly His face if all alight With joy an’ pride, to think that he Can‘give us sick delight. Farewell, dear Ed, thou gay galoot, We'll miss thee from our midst— But thien thou shouldst not execute “Iie thoughtless deed thou didst. Lhou soon wilst dangle from a rope, AN’ each intense spectator, « Will see thee danle, with the hope “Tnat he will sec thee later, . ., Like eager travoler dost thon wait, To leave by the neek’s strain [ Applause]” To land up by the golden gate An’ ne'er return again. This last advice from world of strite Lgive with earnest breath ; You never were known to “kick” in life, Pray do not kied in death. There was loud applause and the girls grouped themselves on the scaffold ‘and sang the song referred to, responding to a vigorous encore with 0, Dem Golden Slippers,” during the rendition of which the condemned man frequently cast his eyes downward to_his robust feet as if wondering if he could ure a fit, Iast notes of the song were swamped be- ueath another torrent of applause, afl the girls descended from the seaffold. The sherifl once more came to the front: “The thing’s a goin’ off splendidly,” he said. "It surpasses my most sanguin- ary expectations. Feller eitizens, this is a proud day for all of us, an’ no one can fell more impetuous pride than 1 do, now have the felicitous honor of intro- ducingto you Mr. Ed Comstock, the entleman as will soon take the trail for kingdom come. As you all see, he has conducted mmself with the most proper reetitude in alt the perceeding’, an’ I am proud it has fallen to me to lungsuch a perfect gentle man,” Ed advanced to the front and wh loud applause subsided began his ence fully prepared specel “Ladie: too weak afl: Words are to express the swaym’, sur; which are now pitehin’ about in my soul. This grand demonstrativeness, gotten up in my honor. 15 worthy' of a king. You are here to see me ofton my journey, an’ 1 assure you that I will ‘not forget your kind efforts to make the partin’ pleasant to me. “Ihave a wife an' two kids back in the st an’ O, what pride will swell the bosoms o' them boys while telin® others that their o’ man war the fust one to be lawfully hung n Sweetwater county, Regardin’ the erime for which I stand here I will simply say that the cards run agin me. If that young fellow as saw it kadn't a been thar at that particular moment all would have been well, an’ I would have been a livin’ among’ you to-day an honored an’ respectable citi- zen. But [ain'ta kickin, This grand demonstration fills me full o’ high grade reconciliation, an’ 'l go down through this trap like'n jo-d Appli 1 Lexpect to meet Bill Van Anda, Tom Wilkes, Lengthy Frank, Poker Aleck, an’ all the in their cheeks, an’ we'n 1 tell 'em o' this grand blowout they'll be sorry they dicd afore cein’ it shall not detain you long for [ know you aré anxious to seo the grand climax. 1 bid you one an’ all goodbye, an’ if you ever cum_up iny way be sure an’ hunt me up, Mr, Sherith, its your play.™ His hands quickly bound and the about his neck. By his own requ K can was drawn over his f s sheriff stood with his hand on the lever and the spectators held their breath o ing the nl act, Onee more goodhye,'” the doon shouted, “Earth to earth, dust t dust, ashes ta nshes. He that doth’ ‘man's blood hy man sh likewise shodded, An eye fur an’ 4 tooth fur a tooth, fur ver: thing in reason to udd to the joy o' the | unto you that thar's .uun{ joy over & lost sheep than over a hull herd that never left the corral. Mr. Sheriffy will you kindly let 'er got”* | The sheriff accommodatingly did as re- quested, and Ed shot through the trap, He seemed to throw s whole soul inta that one last effort, and went down with a determined vigor that elicited words of praise from everyone in the crowd. H there with g pride _an dignity as if conscious that he had dona his whole duty in s effort to please hig audience. And thus ended the first legal execue tion in Sweetwater county. CAPTAIN JACK CRAWFORD, —tm MRS. SHARP'S SORROW. She Tells of Her Long, Happy Life With the Convicted Man, From the New York World: Onle twice during recent years has favor beep shown to prisoners in Ludlow strect 1to the extent of allowing a man's fe to share his imprisonment. Both of these exceptions were in notable cases. ‘The first was when gay, handsome, f: ionable Mrs, finand Ward remainedy with her husband to nurse him throught the 1llness which overtook him there. The second case is that at present beford our eyes—the frail, loving old wife of Jacob Sharp sharing s’ confinement, To one upon whom' such a burden hag never come, the presence of Mrs, in the county jail with her husk seems only a most natural and ecasg thing, but it is proving to her a burdemns almost greater ths can bear. Mrs. Snarp remains L night—and all nig ide, eagerly anticipating his every wisly *'God gave me my dear husband,’’ sh saysto all who try to comfort her, ‘*an: i s great happiness togethers rp is a delicate woman, dignfs fied and charming for one who must ba nearly seventy years old. When a woman and a stranger sent in a card on Wednes- lh{ morning, word came buck at oncet “Mrs. Sharp does .not remember the name, but she will” be glad to receive you.”” And when the visitor entered the cheerful breakfast room that looks upon the court yard in the center of the jail, Mrs. Sharp stood with hands oulsln-whc(! to a woman she never saw before. “What can I do for you, my child$" she said. ‘There was no smile on the delicate,pale face, and the face was weak and almost broken, but the look as well as the tong was that of a gentle woman, whose first thought, even in her trouble, was that she could “'be of use” to some one clso. The unconventional speech made the conversation that would so easily have been strained, natural and free.” Mrst Sharp very soon spoke of her “‘dear hushand,” as she ulways calls him, in the tenderest and most unaffected way, At the same time she spoke feelingly of the burden that they have' been carrying together and which hag seemed so unnecessarily severe. *‘They are Killing us both,”” she said passion- ately, “‘we are old people now and every stroke tells on us,” Mrs. Sharp speaks of herself in this way, as if she were near the end of the days she might expect to be granted her, but no one seeing her for the first time would think of her s heing Yold.” Indeed, a man who has scen her a number of times about the jail, spoke of her us being about_forty-eight or fifty years of age. Her hair is quite gray now and is worn in soft waves abont her fa Her eyes are gray and ¢ anly eyes. Her nose is straigh and the whole type of her face as 1t may be expressed, t whic ways recognized as belonging to *'a New E pil:\nd lady Not the strong, determ- ined New England woman’s face, but the quiet, refined, somewhat pensive counte~ nance that follows years of repression and In height, Mrs. Sharp is about five fect two or three, and in fige ure neither generous nor shght, Ly short, taken in all, the wife of thig man, whose name is on every tongue, is just the woman whom his disgraca' most cruelly hurts, but whose tove wills out last it'all. Digaified, s loving and a christain wom: i wonder that the bond between them: ehould be so close. How close this bond! has been Mrs. Sharp’s own words tell best. Speaking of their happy life ‘toe gether, sh i “We have been so happy, my dear huge nd and 1. He has been “everything to that a woman could “ask or desire. ¢ every wish, my slightest fancy, it has been his pleasure to fulfill. Oh, 1 been looking forward so 1o next year. Fifty years wo should have been married the March." “'Should have been, Mrs. Sharny" *Yes, yes, rhould have been, It is kills ing my dear husband before my eyes, this terrible trouble, and I'known that if anything should happen to him I should r0'soon, too. We have been happy too ong for one to be content without the other now. **But surely, you do not feel so seriously alarmed about Mr. Sharp's conditions He is not worse?” “‘Not, worse, perhaps, in one way, but he is so weak. No one but mysclf and his physicians knows how weak. He has been 8o brave about it, so almost fools ishly brave. It has secmed sometimes to me asif he did not reahze what 1t meant; he has been so strict about allow- g anything done that could possibly be construed into a desire for eftect. He has not allowed me to go tothe court for fear partly of the effect it would have onme and partly for fear 1t would seem like trying to create sympathy. He has sat bolt upright i is seat for hours when he was positively untit to be out of his bed, and_he has been as cheery and and as helpful to me as he could be. Not to me has he complained of the un- 'y things that have been done to make the disgrace more deep and ine i s| ked, Mrs, Sharp kept glancing anxiously at the room wherein her husband was trying vainly o get a little rest. As she finished spenk=- ng the trim young woman who had been laying the table, motioned to her, but Mrs. Sharp waved her away, It secemed as if it were a relief to her to spe 1d speak freely., “'Oh, if they only knew him as I know him,'’ she ¢ i “I have been his wife for neurly fifty y and [ have been his confidentinl friend us well, but 1 have never known him to even think of doing anything that was not honor- able. en in the most trivial things he has believed that what he has said he would do, and that hie would not suy he would do anything that was not right. He has been honor itself. He has prac- ticed always what he preached, and he has tried to bring up ms_children to be- lieve and act as he d. “Before I go, Mrs. sitor warmly, *‘is there anything that L one else could do for your"” ‘Nothing—nothing. 1 thank you for coming. It has been & comfort to me, ‘They have been very considerate and \d to us here, but itis a horrible sub stitute for our home. No; there are only two helps for my dear husband and my- self now. One is the lifting of this terr1- nle black eloud, and the other is death for us both." Sharp," said the - Found His Level. Puck 1 am poor,"* he said to n Chi= cago girl; “and you h; but true love levels such distinetions, and—"" interrupted him with one of the posi negatives, if such a ession cun be allowed, ever utter s windy eity, Fhis, ‘then, is my last resort,” he said desperately; and he displuyed a silvers mounted revolver You ought to get $5 or 86 on'it,” re encouragingly,