The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 5, 1897, Page 22

THE SAN FRANC ISCO CALL, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 5, 1897. At the commencement of the Russo-Turkish war, in 1877, I was honored with an order of the Vienna i'remden- blatt to act as ifs correspondent at the | seat of war. My original intention was | 10 become attached to the army of Osman Pasha, who at that time (latter part of June) w holding Widdin with 35,000 | men. 1 experienced several delays in get- ting the nec ¢ permission from Con- stantinople, and as I Lelicved that the omnipotent Czar of ail the Russias would make short work in finishing the *'sick man on the Bosphorus,” I concluded that 1 would be too lale to see anything of the war if I waited any Jonger, and therefore joinea the headguariers of the King of Roumania. As inese s are not in- capit tion of the war, mediately connected Osman Pasha’s defense of Plevna, suffice that I narrate with a few nstances which lea to this | nece. st partof July the Rus- s1an advar army invaded Bulgaria and attempted to march direct on Sofia. Near Plevn 1i Bulzarian town of about 10,000 ts, the left wing of the ad- vancing Russians was suddenly attacked with great impetuosity by Osman Pasha, and completely routed after some severe fighting, h both sides displayed . ore the Russians had n had taken possession and July attacked the who had meanwhile been re-en- i were commanded by G ral tended togive other than with Plevna der-Schuidner, at the liitie town of vanquished tiem once more. the Russian divisions o Krudener and Echschowskoll <ault, and the Russian wing commanded last [and part of tbhe Roumanian army joined | cut off. | the command of Schilder-Schuldner, and | command of General Gourko had meun- the combined forces threw themselves on Osman’s army, but were repulsed with greatlosa, The town of Plevna 1s situated on a low hill and offers no other defensive ad- vantages than that there are no other ground elevations within gun range. Os- man gradually increased bis army to about 60,000 men and fortified his position at Plevna by intelligently planned and ex- cellently constructed enirenchments and ezrthworks, and, in an almost incredi- bly short time, succceded in creating n‘ really strong fortress out of the hitherto | open town. Under these circumstances | the Russians were forced to abstain from | anv further advance, to send for strong | re-enforcements, and, in fact, to concen- trats their main strength in the imme- diate vicinity of Plevna, which town re- i mained for many months the center of | Alexander II the officers of the Russian | Bazouks, the war operations. On September 11, after Pievna bad been bombarded several days by their artillery, the combined Russian-Roumanian forces tried to capture Osman’s position by as- | | | | called Grinitza bulwark, were recaptured | by Osman the very next day, and the Russians had lost 16,000 men uselessly. Grand Duke Nicholas, the commander-in- chief, now summoned Russia’s greatest strategist, General Totleben, to conduct in person the investment and regular siege of Plevna, and by the end of Octo- ber Osman’s communications with the other Turkish forces had been comvpletely by Gereral Skobelcff and the Roumanian army succeeded in taking a few redoubts; but all these, with the exception of the so- | | | I Another Russian army under) while invested Southern Bulgaria, so that | Turkey could not very well, and did not | even attemnpt to, raise the siege of Pievna | nor succor Osman in any way. During all this time [ had been with the Russian-Roumanian forces before Plevna, It will be remembered that Engiand, France and Austria sympathized with Turkey in this war, and the war corre- spondents from tues: countries were treated with scant polizeness by the Rus- | sians and were seldom or never permitted | to show themselves at the front, »ut were required to remain near the different headquarters. Though correspondent for an Austrian paper I had taken the pre- caution to present identification papers as a German ex-officer. These procured me the enjovment of many civilities and | privileges, as under the reign of Czur| and German arniles used to fraternize | very cordially, and the Roumanians, whose King is a German, had many of his countrymen as officers in their ranks. I bad bought a saddle-horse ana generally employed my time riding from outpost to outpost and had witnessed innumerable times in what mortal fear the Russian ad- vance guards stood of the daily repeated | sorties of small detachments of Osman’s | forces. I may mention here that, as I had actively participated in ths wars of 1866 and 1870-71, and was consequently ac- customed to the superb discipline of the German army, 1 couid not help being very unfavorably impressed by all 1 saw of the Russian troops. Their discipline was very loose; their armament, equip- ment and transportation facilities many | | | | years behind time; officers and men were | smile. My military passport was studied | hand, on my head and saluted by putting excessively addicted to intemperance, and in many instances obedience to ord could only be enforced by blows. But, to return to my story. In the afterncon of November 30 I was as usual at the outposts, when it sud- deniy became quite dark in consequence of a blinding snowstorm, so that I had to rely on the directions given me by officers of different posts, and tried to shape my way accordingly. Believing myself to with much attention, upside down as I no- ticed, and the men did not know what 10 make of it. After the first rough han- dling I was treated with tolerable cour- tesy, and led into the fortress without! bhaving my eyes tied. I call it fortress, but it had to me more of the appearance of a subterrznean labyrinth than any- thing else. I passei intrenchment after intrenchment, all very deep, but the earthworks before them were low and so be on the right road I was disagreeably | constructed that even at a distance of only surprised by receiving a blow with the stock end of a musket on my shoulder, and before I had. time to give the spurs to my horse half a doz:n hands had pulled my riding-cloak away from me from the left side, while as many other hands pulled me off the horse from the other side, and I found myself cantured by about a dozen of the much-dreaded Bashi- These are a kind of irregular a few feet nobody would suppose that he was right in front of redoubiab’e bul- warks. At the first redoubt I, my horse and everythinz belonging to me were turned over to the regular officer on duty there, who, after senuing for a relief, con- ducted me in person to headquarters, which was 1n a house just outside of the town. After waiting half an hour in an ante- Turkish soldiers, mostly from the Asiatic | room I was brought before two officers in | provinces, and of which the Russians had told me that Osman had some 25,000 {in his army, while he actually had no more than about 400, as I afterward ascer- tained. My pockets were emptied like lightning, my papers, revolver and everything 1 had were taken from me, and my boots were vullea from my feet but returned to me, minus the spurs, after the fellows had convinced themselves that nothing was | hidden therein. Two sandwiches waicn 1 had in my pockets were devoured with evident appetite before my eyes by the officer in charge, but, strange to say, a bot- tle jull of very good cognac merely made the round of all my captors, who smelled undress uniform, whom I found occupied in studying my papers. One of the of- ficers—a medium-sized, middle-aged man with a fez and short-clipped, full beard— advanced toward me and, extending b hand, ssked in a jovial manner and in | fairly good German after the health of General Moltke. As I took the man to be | » captain at the most, I gave him a hearty | bandshake and assured him that the great strategist had looked quite well when [ last saw him several years before. Just then several pashas in fulli unifiorm en- tered the room, and I now became aware that the man who bad addressed me was the famous and hitherto invincible Osman Pasha. [atonce assumed a military po- at it and then gave it back to me with a | sition, placed my cap, which I had in my two fingers on my cap and remaining in this position throughout the interview. Osman smiled when he saw it and said it reminded him of the time when he was in Berlin many years ago. He conde- | scended to ask many questions in regard | to German military matters, but neither | he nor any of his officers ever inquired | about the streng:h or position of the | enemy. Osman told me that I had to re- | main his guest as long as the siege lasted, but added witu a that that would not be lonz. I should be allowed full liberty to walk wherever I pleased as long as I remained well inside of the first line of [fortifications. With that I was dismissed and turned over to the charge of a gentleman who served in the quartermaster’s department. During the following ten davs I saw Osman Pasha several times each day and he always acknowledged my salute, but did not speak to me any more. He was in- defatigable in visiting the fortifications ull around the town, which he did most timeson foot. I neversaw him give any orders to the commanders of the different | to his adjatant, who always accompanied bim and noted in a book whatever the | pasha told him. Osman is a typical Otto- | man soldier, fanatical, frugal and brave, | and he kept his men well disciplined. As | long as the army remained in Plevna I | did not see an intoxicated or badly behav- 1ng soldier or officer, and from a military point of view they made a much beiter impression than the Russian soldiers, though their uniforms did not look half as martial. Their frugality was admir- able. They lived almost entirely on shrug of the shoulders | posts, but he frequently gave instructions ! TEN DAYS WITH THE PLEVNA LION IN HIS INTRENCHMENTS boiled rice and weak tea and received only occasionally a small ration of bread and meat. Still they were always cheeriul | and well coniented. On the 9th of December I was informed that there were not victuals enough in Plevua to last through two days, and that the ammunition was nearly exhausted. Early the next morning the above-men- tioned officer told me that the army would try to force its way through the Russian lines, and that, being a non-combatant, I would do wise to remain 12 the town. At 7 A. M. Osman sallied fortah with his en- tire army of about 40,000 mer, exclusive of the officers, leaving all his wounded and sick soldiers in Plevna. The result is a well-known bistorical fact. Osman | could not cope in open fieid with the vast- ys uperior antagonistic forces, who out- numbered his soldiers four to one, and was compeliéd to surreader, with all his men, after a few hours of desperate fight- ing. Osman remained a prisoner of war un- til peace was concluded at Adrianople and was treated with great honor by the Russians. When he returned to Turkey the Sultan honored him by adding the | title of Ghazy, which means the v.ctorious, | to his name, and he has held several im- | portant positions since then, among oth- ers that of Minister of War. Till this day | he is considered the greatest soicier in | Turkey, but he is extremely avaricious | and this vice has led him repeatediy to | look more for the benefit of his awn purse than for the welfare of the pablicfinances. I { | ! the Atthe last meeting of the Teachers’ Club in the assembly hall of the Academy of Sciences Miss Carpenter opened the ex- | ercises with a vocal solo entitiea I Know | a Bank Where Wild Thyme Grows,” | which she sang so sweetly that she was forced to respond with an encore, A. E. Kellogg, pretident of the club, then introduced Professor Edward How- ard Griges of Stanford University, who + most delightful lecture on the sub- j *“Toe Relation of Literature to Lib- eral C a2 “The tendenc: n the education of to- day,” said Professor Griggs, “is toward | vocational traini We want to make | thing pay. Every individual now- | is expected to practicsl. He | methi doit weil in order to be accounted a useiul member of so- | ciety., T idea is ce: ly an advance | educatianal system, but we must | also remember that m of the best o e do not ‘pay’ immediately, and tbat they cannot be termed in money value. The man must be more than his | bus.ness, thougha ma vocation is often the measure of his manhood. “Too great specialization defeats own end by narrowing the character of the individual. In the reform of labor hours we see that in many cases a man | does more work and better in a few hours | tuan be formerly accomplished in alonger time. And why? Because he has now more recreation, which, by furnishing change of scene and new ideas, affords | him time for meditation, and renders | nim capable of greater effectiveness in bis | work. “‘The true vocation oi a man is living, | and education must serve this larger | growth and power in us. Specialization | is only useful in education when behind | skill is the development of larger man- | bood aud life. Liberal culture n(:c(:m-l | s € O° MISS CAMPBELL vlishes the iatter, and this is the highest edueation. T ing of the best works in all ages s the individual with a and appreciation of the world about us and also of nature. e ¢ he reason, then, that we s} ywhere in our educ need of ureater liber But through it all we must uld anal svstems the ture. ber that the chief stud 1em- of mankind is man. For each individual is symlo- ically and potentially a microcosm where- inis reproduced in miniature the liie of 1 r humanity. This life is most expressed in action. Therefore we must study historv, which deals with past action. Nor must we forget the present, which we con gain by including in our education the study of religion, of morality and moral con- duet, and of the fine art:. We find that the iatter are an expression of the ideal of which history forms the body. Our lives are partial failures at every point, because in them we can never completely realize our own ideals. The reiigious ideal we sce expressed in the art of the | | cause it is the most permanent expression | ten for specialists. speculative mysteries of human ex- istence are 1o be found in | zreat literature of aHl kinds, These 5118 and P ley e Thblic Sehools- Renaissance. During the ten centuries of enivalry it finds expression in- Raphael’s ‘Madonna’ instead of any particular moral action of the time. ‘But literature has pectliar vaiue be- ! | | of the higher humun life. We can never | lose the great books of the world—the | works of Dante, Goethe, Shakespeare. | We will always have the same form as | that in which they expressed themselves to their contemporaries. The other fine arts are not permanent. Even in music, which seems an exception, each selection must be re-crcated every time it is played, and to be properly exprassed the per- | former must possess power adequate to that of the composer—which is how rarely | tle case! “Literature is also the most accessible of tbe arts. In the others we bave not uni- versal opportunities to see the greatesr paintings and works of sculpture and heat the finest compositions. But the master- pieces of literature are brought within the | reach of all. And we should always read the books above us; they make lesser | books easiér and dev:lop our intellectual power. ‘‘Again literature is different, because it | is more universally expressive of life than | are the other arts. Music indeed affects | the emotions, but literature not only ap- | peals 10 the intellect, but to a large range | of emotions through the melody of its | rhythm, throueh the drama and tie Then, too, great literature is tten for all of us; we can all under- stand it. But science is most often writ. “‘Thus in the discussion of the relation of the arts to liberal culture we might sum | up all by saying that other things being ‘ equal literature is the most permanent, the most accessible, universal, and most t belongs to all of us, | i cLe., i - 1 | | | | | IN **The first thing we require in the high est literature is that it shall be an expres- sion of the thoughts and emotions of great men in beautiful forms. Not only delicate rhyibm and gems of thought, but also ethical problems, and the deeper 1869, ! are o be met with notonly in the far-reach- ing philoscphies of Kant, Bpinoza and Descartes, but aiso in the Divine Comedy, or even in Shakespeare’s ‘Tempest.” ‘Abt Vogel’ is as fine a treatment of the | subject of the relation of music to the | otuer arts us is to be found in any of the | philosophies. And so we find that in great literature thought is never expressed alone, but there is also with it that which elevates the whole spirit, the whole per- sonality., As for the education of the emotions, that is the very crown of moral | culture. “Every phase of the natural world ap- pears more beautiful to us because it has ibeen sung by the great poets. Yet in | of the Fresno public schools, “was | even of humble writers, how much more i last yeer at a cost of $75 ered one of the finest high school buiid- ings in the S‘ate. There are now 225 only about 10 per cent avail themselves of | ¥ oTmal School, and three years later was pupils in attendance and we have but re- cently instituted a department of manual training. “In the primary schools of the city,” continued Mr. Dailey, *'there has been a change made in the first and second years | | which takes out ail | and puts in more rea ding. board purchased §200 worth Bures, no matter how graceful the lines, how delicate the melody, the theme is always Life. Literature thus awakens our interest in and sympathy with the com- mon things of daily life. If thisis true | 30 of the great masters of the art. | “‘Every book is the creative embodiment | of the man’s own life. So in ‘Paradise | Lost,” far finer than the narrow pedantic ! theology of the time, or the lay figures of Adam and Eve,oreven the magnificent pie- ture of Satan, stands out the grand old pu- ritanical John Milton himself. Thus we can study the man through his works. But this is not alone true of an author's life, for his writings also reflect the char- | acteristics of his epoch, and not merely his epoch but also the race of which the Latin is only a moment. Back of all lies something deeper than the race—that which belongs to all bumanity itself. e e In the Denman Grammar School, of which A. F. Mann is principal and Mrs. Baumgardner vice-principal, there are at present sixteen classes, averaging filty pupils. The school is in an exceilent con- | dition and keeps up with =ll the modern | methods. There is, moreover, an atmos- phere of kindly feeling and good-fellow- ship about the place which warms the cockles of men’s nearts. As the vice- principal said, “It is more like a home here than a school.” * On the morning on which the represent- ative of THE CALL visitel the school a singing lesson was in progress, the teacher being A. L. Mann, who is himself a thorough musician. The songs were excellently rendered and consisted of clas- sical selections as well as patriotic hymns. ‘When these exercises by the ninth grade were finiched, Miss Pear] Hossack of the Normal School favore ! the class and vis- itors with two solos by D. Hardelot, sung in a rich contralio veice with great power and feeling. Miss Lora Lieb, a graduate of last year, then sang two songs. Miss Lieb has been studyin: oniy a few months, but already possesses a soprano voice of unusual sweetness and strength, At the close of the morning’s session the visitors were overwheimed with three invitations to luncheen, to take place at the schoo!. First came a foast given by the pupils of Miss Ewing’s class in her honor, and 1n the afternoon Miss Soule was favored in like manner. On the next afternoon occurred the great event of the school vear, the anni- versary luncheon, given by the Holly Berry Literary Society, which contains thirty members, publishes a quarterly and has just completed the first year of s existence. A iacetious toast full of wit and humor was given by the principal, Mr. Mann, and Mrs. Baumgardner, Mits Smith and other teachers were called upon. At the close of the entertainment Mrs. Baum- gardner presented the club library with a handsome volume of select poems and also gave Miss Ina Ball, the retiring president, a mascot in the shape of a ravbit’s foot, which promises continued vprosperity to the young lady and to the club, over which she has so graciously presided for the past year. Miss Ball was also the recipient of a beautiful enameled watch as a token of the love and esteem in which she is neld by the raembers of the Holly Berry Liter- ary Society. “Ouar present high school,” said Pro- fessor M. E. Dailey, City Superintendent ected | Joa. FRES various subjects, mos.ly history, biogra- phby and science, which will be used for supplementary reading in the first and second grades. “*Besides our High School we have four ward schools in the city, with an attend- ance of some 1850 pupils in all, and about 44 teachers, the majority of the latter be- ing normal or college trained. ‘Those in the High Schooi re;jresent four different S:ate universities. Besides all these we have special teachers for all the schools in both music and drawing, and this year ‘W. A. Tenney comes to us from the Un versity ot New Mexico to teach manual training. “Four weeks ago the meeting of the San guin Valley Teachers' Association was hehfin Fresno, and it was voted to con- tinue to meet unm:ally in our city.” * * NO HIGH SCHOOL. There are 550 giris at present attending the Girls’ High School in San Francisco. Miss Henriette Burns has recently been 0022 U902, Se Qe Ccoc":oeoboeovt‘ b ormal number work | study Principal Elisha Brooks said: “We | Lust week the | are trying to accomplish here in three | of books on | years what is done elsewhere in four, | 000 and is consid- | necessary and unjust. Iallow girls who ) General Vallejo's old home. In 1864 she wish to take the course in four years, but the privilege, for the majority struggle along to keep up in their classes, fearing | otherwise to incur the humiliation of be- | ing thought less bright than the rest of | their classmates.” In speaking of the high school course of | which, 1n my opinion, is both unnecessary and unju I allow zirls wiio wish to take the course in four years, but oniy about 1 per cent avail themselves of the privilege, | for the majority siruggle along to keep up in their classes, fearing otherwise to in- cur the humiliation of being thought less bright than-the rest of their clissmates.’ AR ST Miss Malloy is one of our early pioneer teachers, she having served thirty-three | years in the department. Miss Mailo | came to San Francisco from Brooklyn, N. Y., in 1863 and the next year was ap- | pointed to the Lincoln Primary. | building was afterward moved to Seventh | street, and then demolished. - Later Miss Molioy taught .in the old Mission Schooi, from which she was transferred in 1871 to the Webster School, on Fiith stree’, near Market, which then stood in the midst of sand lots. Miss Malloy remained in this school just twenty-five years. YA ° M. E. DAILEY, CITY SUPERINTENDENT OF SCHOOLS AT FRESNO assigned a position as substitute in the library. Several months ago the girls gave a musical and literary entertainment for the benefit of the library iund, which rroved a great success and netted them $300. This sum nas lately been used to vurchase a large number of reference books in the history ana English depart- ments. In speaking of the high-school course of study Principal Elisha Brooks said: “We are irying to accomplish here in three years what is done elsewhere in four, which, in my opinion, is both un- Miss Cornelia E. Campbell is another teacher who remembers the early days in San Francisco, when the schools were few and far between. Originally from Indi- | ana, Miss Campbell came to California in 1857. Bhe lived for some years in El Do- rado County and vividly remembers the occasion of her first visit 1o this city, when there were no car lines anywhere to be seen except one horse car on Jackson street. After attending district school in El Dorado Miss Campbell tanght fora short time in Sonoma Valley within sight of | Islature during the flood of '61 and '62 in This old | | moved to San Francisco to attend the appointed to teach in the South Cosmo- politan on Post street, between Kearny and Dupont, where a well-known com- mercial house now stands. The primary portion of the school was called ‘‘Assem- bly Hali” and was used by the Stute Les- Sacramento. This school was afterward moved | farther up Post street and then finally de- | molished as the tide of trade swept | through that region. { “Later I taught for ten years at the North Beach in the Greenwich-street Schoo!, which was considered a very nice WiLLrsym LODTMANN S Ev-ry square mile ot sea contains 1 000,000 fish of various kinds. part of town in those days,” said Misg Campbell. *“The name of the direat has since been chanzed to Cooper. From that time on I taught successively in the Starr King Primary, then four years in the Potrero—there were no car lines out there then and after we left the buses we had to wade on out tothe school in the mud and slush—and in several other schools In various parts of the city. *I well remember the erection of the Palace Hotel, and how I named it Ral ston’s monument. In i877 I saw Kinz Kal- akaua at a fair. Atother times I saw Gen- eral Sherman, Sheridan, Logan and Hayes and it seems but yesterday that all the <chool children marched out to Wood- ward’s Gardens to see General Grant, and Ishook nands with him there.” LAST OF THE London’s most famous criminal court, the Old Baiiey, is doomea and the great Central Criminal Court of the city and county of London will in future be held at the Royal Courts of Justice in the Strand. | The building itself is wretchedly plain | and monstrous.y ugly and so far as the appoinim nts of the interior are coun- ! cerned it is safe to say that there is not a | Justices’ Court in the whole of the United | States that could not compare more tuan | favorably with this, the chief criminal | court of the greatest city in the worid. | Badly ventilated, badly lighte! and un- utterably miserable in every way, one can imagine what a terrible damper must be put on the prisoner in the dock by his wretched surroundings and almost forgive the rather frequent attacks of choler and spleen with which the Judges are afflicted. Let us take a peep at tte court on the day of a great trial. Having procured the | neces-ary passes from the Sheriff, or anointed the itching palm of the *bobby’" | on duty at the door with some golden oil, you pass through the doors of the court and find yourself standing on the edge of | what appears to be a deep well, the sides | of which are terraced with seats. At the bottem of the weil is a long table for members of the bar, a smaller table in | tfront of the long one for Queen’s counsel, or barristers who have taken “‘silk,” and | in front of and dominating the bar and | the dock is the bench, on which a kind oi a throne 1s built, its only ornament | being a huge sword of justice, which is suspended just over the Judge’s head. At | the back of the bar and facing the Judge | is the prisoners’ dock, which is connected | by an underground passage with the an- cient prison ot Newgale, where prisoners awaiting trial are detained. At about half-past 9 in the morning the court begins to fill, and despite the vigi- | lance of police and ushers a motley crowd finds its way into the seats of this dread- ful theater, where the curtain has been rung down at the end of hundreds of hor- rible tragedies, The public in this court | is unlike any other public. Workmen out of work, loose women, haunters of taverns and hells, thieves at the commencement or close of their career, convicts just re- leased from prison, the lazy, the good-for- nothing and the good-for-nothing-else squeeze their way to the foot of the stair case which leads to the best seats. No sooner is the staircase wicket opened than they rush down. They press each other, they elbow, they jostle, they stand on tip- toes and look from a distance like a black living mass, which sends forth rude ex- clamation:, si.fled cries, coarse jokes and a brutal hubbub of offended decency, angry oaths and strange slang. The swindler and the assas:in have come here to learn how a witness may be thrown out, how a question may be evadeu, how an alibi may be invented, how a fact may be distorted and how the criminal code may be interpreted. Another man comes in there from mere curiosity, and goes out with the temptation of crime in his heart, a fruitful though tainted sead. The mania of 1mitation drives more people into crime then all the machinery of the law and the terrors of punishment can deter from it. The Central Criminal Court is a detestable school of immorality. | By 10 o’clock the barristers in wigs and gowns have filed into their places at the bar, their clerks carrying brief bags and iegal volumes, which they deposit on the tuble. The clerk of arraigns takes his seat immediately beneath the Judge's beneh, and the ushers, in stectorian tones, call for ‘*‘order in the court.” Having quieted the din, the usbers pro- ceed to open wide the door through which the Judge passes to take his seat on the bench, and the head usher orders every- body in court to stand up as the Judge | enters the court, at the same time calling | out the Judge’s title and dignity in the following manner: “8ir Forrest Fulton, Knight, one of her Majesty’s counsel, Common fergeant of the City of London, and Judge of this vresent Court of As- size!” Assoon as the Judge is sealed, following an ancient custom, a small bowl of flowers is placed before him. This custom is a relic of the period when New- gate and the O:d Bailey were without any sanitary system, and the whole district was constantly afflicted with the dreaded jail fever—typhus. The rosemary and thyme, which were then placed on the Juage's desk, were supposed to have the power of keeping the disease away from him. | | She shivers all over. OLD BAILEY. The cletk of arraizns now rises and cell the first case, and lixe a jack-in-the-bux, the accused springs up literally out of the ground, for he comes up through a trap- door 1n the floor of the dock. The clerk then reads the indictment, | and asks the prisoner to plead—guilty or not guilty. The accused having pleaded,; { the first witness is called and sworn, the oath being administered in the following phraseology: “In this case between our sovereign lady the Queen and the prisoner at the bar, I swear (o speak the truth, the whole truth and notiing but the truth, so help me, God!” And theu the trial com- mences. Women of the world are not cruel, but they are the most curious creatures in the universe; they live on cmotions; they die of emotions every five minutes; they have lovers for their verses and verses for their lovers; they must, jorsooth, suffer toenjoy and enjoy tosuffer. Your woman’ of the world dreads nothing so much as regular hours, a sleepy existence and the genial indolence of the boudoir and the easy chair. She is forever on the wing from noon to night; at the theater, at the Senate, at church, in the park, at balls— she is always in search of whatever may excite, or amuse, or shake, or convulse, or | upset her wretched body or her still mo.e wretched scul. Everything sine touches muitiplies her existence. She rushes, with all her passion and all her spirir, into every sensation that chances to cross her—obstacles are nothing to her. She has made up her mind to see a thing and sbe will see it. She will write a aozen three-cornered notes on pink, perfumed paper to the Sheriff to obtain the favor ol an admission and a seat—a chair—nay, a stool—at the trial, At daylight she leaves her scft and warm bed to wait at the door of the court. There she stands, with a keen northeaster in her tceth and her feet in the mud. The door opens; she darts on; she presses forward, she crowds, she pushes, and at last she Rrets in through the ushers and the police and the black gowns of tne bar. She hangs on to the skirts of a policeman’s coat, talks to him softly in his ear, and does not let him go t1l she is placed and squatted at her ease, with her eyeglass at her eve, close 1o the prisoner and neap the Judge. If a woman in court faints she rushns] up, cuts the lace and offers her smel inge salts—another sort of emotion. But un- less the solid pillars of the court give way she will not give up her seat. Her eyes are riveted to the eyes of the prisoner; she clings to his lips; she feasts upon the ineffable terrors of a human soul. The hours fly, night is coming on, the jury has retired—still she waits—she waits to hear the fatal sentence and the wretched con- vic's sigh; she catches the last flutter of that tattered consc'encs; she listens for his slightest exciamation—for bis stiflad’ groan; she foilows him with one long look when he is removed from the dock fll the prison doors turn upon their hinges, and . then she falls back on her chair, absorbed, overpowered by what she has seen. The usher is obiiged to tell her that the court is cieared and to show ker the way out. She drags herself along the passazes of the building; she gets home— worn out, tired to death. “T'he public prosecutor has accomplished his task, the Julge has dcne hisduty and se:t sentence, and the court is cleared. ot quite. Do yon see thut man dresed | in black, restinz bis head on bis hands? He is the prison chaplain, who bas at- tended the trial that the culprit might see that he had one friend on whom he could lean for strength and consolation. Verily, this minister is a father {0 his flock. In his pious attendance at the scaffold, where he will accompany the criminal who will in a few days suffer the pain of death, what resignation, what courage, what strength of mind are re quired to comfort, with looks and words, of hope and peace, that miserable bai; who has almos: irretrievably lost all hoyfe of pardon from his offended Maker. “Ig there one among us, even movei by the most Christian feelings, and endowed at the same time with the power of resisting the strongest agitation, who could bear— nay, who would undertake by choice, that terrible duty which the pastor accom- plishes with such majestv, even when his nature, betraying the torture of his mind, arops of cold sweat appear on his fore- head? I think not. Erxest ForsEs,