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SECOND PART,
ABOVE THE CLOUDS.
tfature and Man Deep in the Heart of
the Himalaya Mountains.
AN AMERICAN HUKCHAUSEN.
female Samsons of the Hills and Their
Carious Customs.
.pIPH MILES OP COEK-SCBEW OURTE8
f COKRErO"UEICI OP TOT DISrXTCH.J
DABJEELING,
March 14. In the
heart of the Hima
layas, in the mijst
of mountains whose
perpetual snows
glisten like dia
monds under the
rays of the tropical
sun, with oceans of
clouds below me,
7,000 feet above the
jungle where the
tiger hides, and al
ia o s t' within the
sound of the guns
of the English troops, who are fighting on
the borders of Thibet, I write this letter for
my American readers. From my window I
can see the snow on Kancbanjanga, 28,000
feetj above the sea, and upon a Thibetan
pony I galloped this morning 13 miles
higher up the mountain to Tiger Hill and
saw the sun gild the snowy summit of
Mount Everest, which is 'a full 1,000 feet
higher. The top of Mount Everest is. of
all the world, the nearest point toward
heaven. Fugiyatna, the sacred snow-capped
mountain of Japan, is not half as high as
Mount Everest, and if my memory serves
me, the snows of Mount Blanc are at least
10,000 feet lower. Go to the top of Mount
Blanc, ascend in a balloon straight upward
for two miles, and you have about reached
the altitude of this highest of the Himalaya
Mountains. It dwarfs everything in the
Andes and the Alps, and it is a fitting king
to this noblest range of mountains in the
world. Himalaya means the abode of snow
and thousands of the peaks are crowned
with eternal frost.
If you could, cy rubbing the miracle
lamp'of nature, have her genii construct a
mountain range from -New York to Denver,
Col., and make this range as wide as the
distance between Kew Xork and "Washing
ton, extending it at points to double that
width, you would have a base somewhat
like that of the Himalayas. On this base
must be built two high ranges of mountains
Above Darjeeling.
with vast valleys between them, making a
double wall between the .North and the
South. You must, throughout this dis
tance, have the mean elevation of your hills
about as high as Mount Blanc, and 40 of
them must extend more than one mile
higher. Every one of these 40 will kiss the
sky above any summit of the Andes, and
in many of these vast valleys you could
drop the whole Alpine range, and at a dis
tance of ten miles from the place they fall
there would be no perceptible change in the
face of nature. Talk about the glaciers of
Switzerland! There are glaciers in the
Himalayas which are from SO to 60 miles in
length, and there is one 33 miles long which
is flanked on either side by two giant peaks
over 27,000 feet high.
An American Manchnnncn.
Has any one ever reached the top of the
highest of these mountains? I should say
not. An American attempted it a few
months ago, and he left Darjeeling with a
staff as long as himself and enough provi
sions to last him a mouth. He came back
four weeks later and claimed that he had
spent the night on Kanchanjanga.
"It was as easy," said he, "as falling off
a log. It takes an American to do a thing
that you English fear to attempt." And ho
then went on to describe the glaciers in
spread eagle colors. He told of mountain
bears and polar wolves, and discoursed for
hours in the language of Jules Verne. The
English residents of Darjeeling cocked
their one-eye glasses at him, and some be
lieved and some did not. About a week
after he had left the Himalayas a wealthy
English tea planter came to the station, and
asked the people there if they had heard
anything of an American named Jones.
They replied that Jones was the wonderful
man who had ascended Kanchanjanga, and
' they described his tour. Upon comparison
it was found that the date of Jones' starting
up the mountain was the day before he
came to visit this tea planter. The planter
said, "he talked nothing of the mountains
to me, but 1 found him a good lellowand he
stayed with me full four weeks. "We played
poker three-fourths of the time, drank
whisky and soda during the intervals of the
game, and the remainder of the days Jones
spent in reading up my library of mountain
literature. He was at this time doubtless
thinking how he wonld take in Darjeeling,
and was making up the Munchausen story
which he told you."
STonotaln Scenerx.
Host Americans are satisfied with Dar
jeeling. It is one mile and a half straight
np in the air above the sea, and if you could
pile seven towers like the one just built at
Paris, one on the top of the other, or fasten
13 "Washington monuments into one long,
iron cage and run an elevator through the
whole jou wonld just about reach this alti
tude. I doubt whether there is a village in
Switzerland soihjghas Darjeeling, and I am
certain-there is nothing in the Alps to com
pare "with the grandeur of its surround
ings. The plains of India send up moisture to
the Himalayas which gives them a thousand
clouds where the Alps have one, and here
yon see clouds of all kinds and shapes chas
ing each other overthe hills below you. Ton
see them crawling up the steep sides of the
valleys and climbing to your very feet when
they envelop vou, and for ten minutes the
mist is so thick that you cannot see the
horse on which you are riding. A
moment later the cloud has passed,
and it floats onward toward the snows
above. At times there are clonds above and
below you. You see ghostly masses of
vapor resting in little hollows in the sides
ot the mountains as though they had
squatted down there for a siesta. At times
4llV fair .U . t ..a. M llWtrl. ,..A f
, single file seem to chase one another through
loo,air. xn we morning.tne.sun. gnus them ,
iwjaubi, mey are masses ware ana at night
the amorous moon throwster bright tropi
cal rays around them.
The cloud effects and the snow effects of
the Himalaya Mountains are indescribably
grand. They are different from anything I
have seen in travels of 'hundreds of miles
through the Alps and they are in many re
spects more interesting. From where I
write the mountains form a semi-circle
about me and there are 12 mighty peaks of
snow, each of which is more than 20,000 feet
high. As for mountains of two miles and
more in height I can see dozens of them. I
am in the very midst of the Himalayas and
at what the world says is the best point to
view them. '
Himalayan Womnn.
Man here is fully as interesting as nature,
and we have servants and guides who are
more like the people of Thibet than India.
There is no seclusion of women here, and
great strapping girls dressed in the gaudiest
of colors go about with flat plates of gold
hanging to their ears, each of which is as
.big as a trade dollar. They have gold on
their ankles and bracelets of silver running
all the way from their wrists to their elbows.
Their complexions, originally as yellow as
those of the Chinamen, are bronzed by the
crisp mountain air until they have now the
rich copper of the American Indian. Both
men and women look not unlike our In
dians. They have the same high cheek
bones, the same semi-flat noses and long,
straight, black hair. If you will take the
Erettiest squaw you have ever seen you may
ave a fair type of thelaverage belle of the
mountains. She wears two pounds of jew
elry to the ounce of the squaw, however,
and her eyes are brighter, and she is far
more intelligent. She works just as hard,
and the woman of the Himalayas does much
of the work of the mountains. I see women
digging in the fields, working on the roads,
and carrying immense baskets, each of
which holds from two to three bushels, full
of dirt and produce on their back.
Just above the hotel the road is being re
paired and a side of the mountain is being
cut away. The dirt is carried for about a
quarter of a mile and used in filling up a
hole in the hillside. It is all done by wo
men. Two women are digging down the
dirt with pick-axes and a half dozen are
shoveling this into the baskets of the girls
who carry it fiom one place to the other.
These baskets rest upon the back and shoul
ders of the girl and they are held there by
a wide strap which comes from the basket
around and over the girl's forehead. They
stand with the baskets on their backs while
they are loaded, and one of the women who
is doing the shoveling has a baby .a year old
tied tight to her back and it bobs up and
down as she throws the dirt from the ground
into the basket. These girls carry' easily
160 pounds, and I was told that one had
carried a cottage piano a distance of 12 miles
up the mountain upon her back. This is
hard to believe, but after seeing the mighty
shoulders, the well-knit frames, and the
great calves and ankles of the strongest of
them I can believe it.
Jewelry In Proration.
The men are fully as s'trong as the, women.
They are not so tall as the American Indian
and they are very fierce-looking. Each
wears a great scymeter-like knile in his belt
and they are just like the Thibetans whom
I saw at Peking, They are notorious as
wife-beaters and the wpman of the Hima
layas has, as a rule, very hard time. Many
of the men wear ear-rings and the women,
both Before and alter marriage, carry their
fortunes upon their persons. They wear
strings of silver coins of the size of 60 and
10 cents silver pieces in rows about their
necks so that often the whole front of a
woman's bust is covered with them and the
poorest working girl has her ear-rings of
gold and her anklets of silver.
It looks strange to see a- woman whose
whole waist is covered with rupees and who
has enough jewelry upon her to keep her for
at least three years, breaking stone upon
roads, and I have, during the past week
seen at least a thousand bare feet and half
Himalaya Sella.
bare calves around which were silver and
gold bands which would not form unhand
some bracelets for our American girls.
Many of them are fond of stone jewelry and
a great many turquoises are brought from
Thibet and sold here. One of these girls
carried mv trunk for a 6-cent consideration
upon her back from the station to the hotel,
and I see them plodding up the mountains
with great baskets of wood upon their backs,
two of which would form a good load for a
mule.
Cheap Labor.
They work all day for what would be the
price cf a drink in America and their
mountain huts would be considered hard
lines for the establishment of an American
pig. Little low huts thatched with straw
and not much bigger than store boxes. They
do most of their cooking out of doors, sleep
upon the floor, eaT with their fingers, and
worship Buddha in a half-civilized way.
Some of them use the prayer wheel, and
this seems to be the only invention they
have. The prayer wheel consists of a metal
box about as big around as one which holds
boot blacking and about twice as deep.
Through it a wire is' stuck" and this is
fastened into a handle a foot long. Inside
the box there is a roll of prayers written in
Thibetan characters, and the worshiper
rattles off prayers at the rate of -169 a
minute by giving the handle a twist and
setting the box to rolling. EAehrollreeerds
a prayer. , Every prayer does awayvwita;
Zepcha Uoolte, Darjeeling.
Jj
THE PITTSBURG DISMTCK
oqe or more sins and puts a brick in the
pavement which leads toward heaven.
A Kldo Into the Clonds.
I wish I could give you this ride up
through the clouds from Calcutta to Dar
jeeling. The trip to the foot of the Hima
layas takes a half a day and the whole of a
night, and the remainder of the journey is
like a carriage drive SO miles up the moun
tain. Yon are pulled by steam, and a dainty
little engine not more than ten feet long
hauls open oars, no higher above the road
than a street car, over a two-foot narrow
gauge in and out among the trees in cork
screw curves up the mountains. You rise
at the rate of 16 feet a minute, and go more
than 1,000 feet upward every hour. The
train winds in and out like a snake, and the
cars are so small that they look like the
links of a chain. Now,' the engine and the
tail of the train seem to touch. There are a
dozen horseshoe curves every mile, and you
make figure eights in climbing the hills
three times during the. journey.
As you rise yon see the little road in ter
races on the hills below, and yon now shoot
under a hill and come out in a loop and
cross your own track by a bridge overhead.
The X system of going up one hill to rise to
a higher is used, and there are a number of
double Ys which elevate you from one plain
to another. You skirt precipices covered
with green, down which you can look for
1,000 feet, and float out on the -side of the
mountain over valleys, which fade away
into the broad plains of Bengal. This rail
road was built along a wagon road which
led up to Darjeeling, and the speed made
upon it is so slow that you can see as well as
though you were riding in a carriage. There
are many villages on the way, And the train
stops and gives yon time to pick flowers and
ferns.
The Monarch of the Jangle.
In rising you pass through the torrid, the
temperate and land at last in the frigid
zone. At the bottom is the' jungle Into
which you dash out of rice fields and which,
with its thick bamboo, its banyan trees, and
its interwSven masses of foliage, forms the
home of the tiger. As you go through you
can almost see the bright eyes of this noble
Bengal beast shining out of the darknss,
and the old residents of India who are with
you will tell you stories of the tiger hunts
they have had and of accidents that have
happened to lone travelers. Thev will tell
you that the tiger is only found where lives
the deer and the wild hog; that if he .once
has a taste of human blood he is satisfied
with no other. A single one of these tigers
isknown to have killed 108 people In three
years and another killed 80 persona per
annum.
One of the agents of the Indian forest de
partment tells me that about 2.000 tigers are
killed in India every year, and in 1882, 695
men were killed by tigers. The English
Government gives a reward for tiger killing,
and during that year $7,000 was paid for the
killing of 1,700 tigers. In a few weeks
there will be an immense tiger hunt in In
dia. The viceroy will probably attend it
The party will go out upon elephants and
will spend some weeks in the jungle.
A Forest of Sliver.
jAs yon go np the Himalaya this jungle
giveaway to huge forest trees, hut the
branches have long roots and creepers shoot
ing from them down to the ground and the
trees are often from 100 to 200 feet high.
These trees are clothed with a luxuriant
growth of mosses and ferns and you see
many varieties of orchids fastened to trunks
and hanging to their branches. As you go
up you note the tree fern, a tall, round
trunk from 10 to 20 feet .iigh with fern
leaves jutting out from its top like those of
.a palm.' The underbush .becomes more,
sparse and as you rise the color of the moss
on the trees changes from green to silver.
This hangs from the branches in clusters,
clings to their limbs like a cbat, and makes
them look at a distance like a forest of green
dusted with silver. As you near Darjeel
ing you find many of the hard woods of our
American mountains; the rose begins to
bloom and there are tea plantations by the
hundreds of acres. '
Finest Tea In the World.
The tea of the Himalayas is the best in
the world and I would advise American
housekeepers to try Indian tea. There is a
tea in Thibet which has the flavor of milk to
such a degree that when used it has all the
properties of good tea mixed with the most
delicious of Jersey cream. This Himalaya
tea has the flavor of flowers. It is pure and
clear and it is supplanting the Chinese tea
in the English markets. The tea plant
grows wild through these Himalaya hills
and in some ot the regions near here it at
tains the dimensions of a large tree. It was
probably introduced from here into China.
Still it is now only about half a century
since tea culture was commenced in India,
and now there are many Indian tea men who
prophecy that India tea will eventually push
Chinese tea out of the markets of the world.
Just ten years ago th exports of Indian tea
amounted to 33,000,000 pounds. Five years
later they had risen to 68,000,000 pounds,
and a tea planter whom I met here at Dar
jeeling, tells me that they are now making
100,000,000 pounds of tea a year in India.
The exports of Indian tea to the United
States have steadily increased and we now
take over 600,000 pounds of Indian tea
every year.
The lower hills of these Himalayas are
"covered with these tea plantations. The
plants look not unlike well-trimmed box
wood hedges, and they rise in terraces up
the sides of the hills. Here and there you
may see a gaily-dressed woman picking
their leaves, and now and then a low shed
in which the firing is done. The seeds are
sown in nurseries in December and January
and they are transplanted between April
and July. The ground has to be well
drained and I am told that the best tea soil
is virgin forest land, which in India is very
rich. The plants begin to bear about the
third year and they are at their best when
they are 10 years old. The Indian tea
planters get about five pickings a year and
often seven. In China and Japan three
pickings is considered good. ,
.American Products In India.
I note some curious anomolies here in
these old Himalayas. Many ot the rude
huts, which are of the same style as they
have heen for 1,000 years or more, are roofed
with galvanized iron and the sides of some
of them are sheeted over with square pieces
of tin. This tin comes from Philadelphia
oil cans, and some of the mountain huts are
lighted by the Standard Oil Company's oil.
Calico from England is coming into use
among the natives, and many ot the idols,
upon being inverted, are found to have
sunked into their brass bottoms the trade
marks ot the Birmingham manufactories.
Fbaxx G. Caepejiteb.
A HAD SONGSTRESS.
An Extraordinary Discovery Blade In nn
Aajlam In Paris.
An extraordinary discovery has just been
made, a correspondent writes, in the private
asylum of Dr. Dupuis, in Paris. A young
Bussian lady who entered the institution
about 18 months ago, and whose malady is
stated to be caused by a disappointment in
love, is discovered to be the possessor of a
voice of most marvelous beauty. The un
fortunate girl's brain is in such a state that
she cannot understand & word that is said to
"her, butassoonasmusiois placed in her
hands her senses seem to return, and she
renders the most difficult passages with the
greatest intelligence and delicacy. If Dr.
Dupuis can obtain the consent of the young
lady's friends, he intends to bring her out
ata.eoneert which is to be gives akortlv in
tiraris in am ojja caaruy.
. ! 1 !.... w . .& -!i ....
PITTSBURG, SUNDAY, MA.T 5, 1889.
THE FIELD 0E GLORI
At Colliers, W. Va., Where Noted
Pugilists Battered Each Other
FOE FAME, FUN AND FINANCES.
Binga Pitched Among Peaceful Scenes of
Sylvan Beauty.
BBIEP (TOTIINEB OP H0TABLE FIGHTS
nntrrrsr ros tub bispatch.1
THE daisies and
the poppies dotting
the field of "Water
loo tell no tales of
the great fight
which once raged
over the sod upon
which they are
now so peacefully
growing. If the
color of the one
suggests scenes of
bloodshed this is
immediately offset
by the white robes of the other, for nature
is ever prompt to follow the flags of war with
the banners of peace.
And yet (for we are creatures of imagina
tion) mankind in revisiting or surveying
historic scenes is quick to repeople them
with the dramatio events of former days,
and their present repose is made to do
service as a neutral background, which only
intensifies the lights and shadows of the
picture his imagination has reconstructed.
In passing through Colliers, "W. Va., by
the Panhandle route, the uninformed trav
eler would see nothing indicative of the
stirring scenes in its past history. It is only
a little hamlet by a fast running graveled
bottomed creek, in a narrow winding valley
into which lateral ravines open, and all are
hedged about with abrupt wooded hills and
cliffs, between and among which the rail
road has made its tortuous way by engi
neering ingenuity and a liberal use of
dynamite.
PASTOBAI. BEAUTY.
The traveler last week would have seen
the dark green of the hemlock, which fringe
the hills and cliffs, relieved by the white
tracery and cloud-like bloom of the. service
bush and the wild cherry. If the passenger
train had humored his fancy and
he had stepped from the iron high
way to the greensward and the woods
he would have fonnd a carpet of
dandelions and all .manner of wild flow
ers and spring beauties waiting to meet and
welcome him to their native haunts. But
he would have found more than this if he
had pushed his inquiries still further, for
Where Mace and Baldwin Fought.
this hamlet is the repository of secrets of
which the flowers have no language to tell,
although some of the older residents have.
To one of the latter The Dispatch cor
respondent naturally went, and by him was
taken to the location of two of the most fa
mous prize rings in. the history of the sport
ing annals of this country. Strange that
they should be nestled down into snch a
lovely scene! But is it? Some people
think that devotees to, and particularly par
ticipants in, the prize ring are altogether de
void of -sentiment 'and the fine instincts.
Tuey forget that we are all human, and "the
man that blushes is not quite a brute."
'Tis said of Sullivan that just before he en
tered the ring of one of his most desperate
contests, which was looated in a scene of
natural beauty akin to that of Colliers, that
he paused, and, glancing about the lovely
landscape bathed in sunshine, remarked
with a sigh as he turned to the ring: "And
now goodby to Sullivan, the poet, as we
face Sullivan, the pugilist."
CONTRASTS OP HUMA2T WATUEE.
There is a dual element and mixture in
the nature of mankind which attracts as
well as repels to contests of physical
strength. "What a man can do as he stands
equipped by nature and his God, single
handed, firm-footed and unarmed by any
implement foreign to his person is, alter all,
one of the highest tests he can be put to.
"When he separates these powers and sacri
fices the mental -nd moral to the physical,
he undoubtedly lowers his better nature at
the sametime, and mars the complete and
symmetrical manhood of which bis entire
being was capable of being developed into.
As evidence of these savage instincts still
inherent in the bosoms of civilized members
The Upper Battle Ground.
of society, witness the interest with which
a man or woman, girl or boy trill casually
watch a chance chicken fight and have
their sympathies enlisted on the side of the
little fellow. "Witness the story which Dr.
John Brown tells of the famous dog fight,
from which for long afterward the, boys of
the neighborhood dated their local chronol
ogy. "Witness Thackeray's ( I believe it was)
narration of a celebrated English prize
fight and of his stage ride to get there.
The following cuts are made from recent
photographs taken of the location of the
prize rings at Collier's station, "W. Va. Tor
convenience we will (number and consider
them in order.
A FAMOUS BAm-E-GEOUND.
One illustration Shows the place where the
ring was made for the Mace and Baldwin
fight in 1872, for $2,000 and the world's
championship; but which, however, was not
fought, they not being able to agree upon a
reteree. Upon the same spot, a few years
lateV, Campbell and Hickens fought 'for a
purse of (2,000. The ring was pitched In
the center of' what is now a garden (swords
tnrned to plowshares),fbut then a field, and
beyond the rail fence in the foreground,
which was not there then. The
house and shed, bow occupied by
Blchard Bichards and owned by
Elijah Bobinson, has been built since?
"Within a little pen built against the side of
the shed is the stump of great sycamore,
in the branches of Which many a spectator
of the Campbell and HiokeHS fight was en
BeoBMd.- A.,few; -weref mpr small walnut
&
km "fcj r ' F irV ' ' ' iHr
tree lnneneiaMneflieataqowBij ..-asHy,
farmers and townspeople, as well as
strangers, lined the top and sides of the"
steep hill and cliff in the immediate back
ground, and thickly populated every tree
that commanded a clearer view of the scene.
One man was offered ?3 to lef another sit be
side him on his horse.
Snow was on the ground, and the morning
was one of intense cold, the thermometer
having fallen far below zero. Some of the
spectators had their ears, and feet frozen.
Great fires were built of piles of logs, ties
and sticks, around which gathered repre
sentative sporting characters from New
York, Boston, Baltimore, Pennsylvania,
Ohio, Virginia and elsewhere. "Whisky was
selling, without a license, at 51 fiO a pint It
was under such oircumstances that Camp
bell and Hickens stripped to the waist and
fought a bitter fight
, EiTDED TS A FSEE TIGHT,
It broke up in a row, however, the details
of which are well known in sporting circles.
Suffice it to say thatHlckens' second, Bald
win, was knocked down with the butt of a
revolver, that revolvers were liberally dis
played and one fired, and the spectators
scattered like sheep.
The upper fighting ground is about half a
mile up the creek on the other side in a
hollow baok of a little low house, which is
aStt-Ryan Bailie Ground.
still standing. A small brook runs along
one side of it, a road runs on the bank upon
the opposite side, and upon both sides the
wooded bills rise, the hollow opening out
into the larger valley towards the Pan
handle Bailroad. The cut showing the
upper fighting ground is made from a pho
tograph taken from the railroad track, and
is the view .plainly visible to the traveler
from the cars.
By walking up by this little low house a
few rods one comes upon the fighting ground
where Goss and Byan fought 87 rounds in 1
hour and 27 minutes, for $2,000 and the
championship of America, won by Byan
after a most desperate battle. The Hancock
county sheriff, from "Wellsburg, appeared
upon the scene and warned them not to
fight, but to no effect, however, for single
handed he was powerless to do much. He
took his stand upon the road leading up to
the right of the grounds and watched the
fight proceed.
ATEEEIBLE COMBAT.
Although Ryan won, he was punished
terribly, his mouth and ear being cut and
his face disfigured all over, his eyes black
and his nose swelled up. Goss lost several
teeth and his bruises were chiefly about the
body. Goss was tired out and gave in. He
went down iy the little shed, which still
stands at the left of the house as one enters
the ground and to the right going out.and sat
down, feeling pretty bad. Goss wentraway
in a buggy, Byan by train. "When Byan
got down as far as the station he lay down
and had quite a sick spell.
It was upon this ground, also, that the
lightweights Dillon and Crowley had a
hard fight, won by Dillon. Crowley
chanced his clothes down by the little shed
and Dillon his in a small shanty then stand
ing upon the hillside to the left, but which
iaxfioir terrains.- Just before the fight1
Dillon came up to Crowley in the ring and
offered to bet him 10 that he would whip
him. Crowley replied that he had no
money, but the bet was immediately taken
by an outsider. He left Dillon blood
blind in one eye, with the other closing fast,
and his face badljr swelled. Crowley was
used up a good, bit, with one eye blacked,
but his brniles were mostly about his body.
A NASTY THBOTT.
At one point in the fight Dillon got
Crowley's head between his legs and threw
The Chicken Ground.
him backward over. It might haye broken,
his neck, but he caught the ropes and that
broke his fall. Just at the close of the fight
the Sheriff from "Wellsburg, with several
officers, appeared. Everybody scattered and
made tracks elsewhere in all directions and
with all possible speed. Dillon went
hastily over the hill and managed to get
away and into hiding and escaped; but
Crowley, who "had started up the railroad
track, was overtaken within a few rods of
the State line, deserted by his friends and
arrested.
Another illustration shows the fighting
ground in the immediate foreground, with
the little house and shed, just this side and
to the right of which rest some timbers upon
the greensward brought there for the frame
work of a derrick to be used in boring for
gas, if it is not abandoned. Beyond is seen
the smoke of a rapidlypassing freight train,
firing up and heading for Pittsburg.
The ground has also been a great place
for chicken fights. It has also had its dog
fights, but the most of the dog fights fhave
occurred a mile and a half further up the
valley by Paris roads. , -
But if we-want to catch that train we must
hurry, and eannot linger longer.
O. M. S.
A LETTER HAED TO BEAD.
How Bad Writing Brought n.Tonng Man
Into Unpleasant Notoriety.
A good story about a ell-known young
Pittsburger is going the rounds. A few
days ago the young man went to Cleveland.
He fell in with boon companions, "had a
time," spent all his money, and when he be
gan to sober up, found himself in jail. He
could not be released until his fine was paid.
He therefore sent a letter to a friend in this
city, requesting a loan to help him out of
his trouble. He is about the worst penman
in Allegheny county, and it happened that
the man to whom the letter was addressed
could read little of it except the signature.
That was plain and so was the statement,
"I am in jail," but'these were the only parts
of the doenment that were legible. So he
took the letter around among his friends,
some of wnom were experts in deciphering
bad writing until he found a man who
could read the biggest part of it
'But the letter bad passed through 60 or 60
hands before-It reached a man gifted enough
to decipher it As one of the most earnest
appeals it contained was the sentence;
"Don't, for the world, tell this to a Jiving
soul," .the chagrin of the Voungiman can be
imagined when he got back from Cleveland
and found that every one of his acquaint
ances kBew about his adventure. Ho says
he wlll'elilifrr learn to write or eke employ
an asaan&e-nsi hsreaftr. f- .f ia fcSfctAS?
METAMORPHOSIS;
Being
an Account of a Strange Experiment in
Psychology, Recently Conducted
by a Physician.
Written for The
SDJNEY XiTJS:KA.
CHAPTEB I.
My name is Leopold Benary. I reside at
Ho. 63Beekman place, in New York City,
and am a physician and surgeon. On the
2ist of next July I shall be 71 years of
age.
Toward 13 o'clock on the night of Friday,
June 13, 1884, 1 was walking in an easterly
direction along the south side of .Fifty-first
streety between First avenue and Beekman
place, on my way home frond a musical en
tertainment, which I had attended at "the
house of a friend in Brooklyn. Moving in
the same direction, on the same side of the
street, and leading me by something like 100
feet, I could make out the figure of a woman.
("Except for us two, the neighborhood ap
peared to be deserted.
Anything about my fellow pedestrian be
yond her sex, whieh was revealed by the
outline of her gown as she passed under a
lamp post whether she was young or old,
white or black, a lady or a beggar I was
unable, owing to the darkness and the dis
tance that separated us, to distinguish. In
deed, the probability is, I should have paid
no attention whatever to her, for I was busy
with my own thoughts, had I not happened
to notice that when she reached the corner
of Beekman place, instead of turning into
that thoroughfare, she proceeded to the ter
race at tne loot oi x my-nrsi sireei, auu im
mediately disappeared down the stone stair
case which leads thence to the water's
edge.
This action at once struck me as singular,
and put an end to my preoccupation. "What
could a solitary woman want at the brink of
the East river at 12 o'clock, midnight? Her
errand could scarcely be a benign one; and
the conjecture that possibly suicide might
be its purpose "instantly, of course, arose
in my mind. My duty, under the circum
stances, anyhow, seemed plain to keep an
eye upon her, and hold myself in readiness
to interfere if needful.
After a moment's deliberation, I, too, de-scended-the
stone stairs.
CHAPTEB XL
Yet to keep an eye upon her was more
easily said than done.
At the bottom of the terrace it was im
penetrably dark. Not a star shone from the
clouded sky. The points of light along the
opposite shore and here and there, upon
the bosom of the stream, the red or green
lantern of a vessel punctured the darkness
without-relieving it Strain my eyesight as
I might, I could see nothing beyond the
length of my arm.
But the lapping of the waves upon the
strand, and about the piles of the little T
shaped dock that extends into the river at
this point, was distinctly audible, and
served to guide me. Toward the dock I
cautiously advanced; and when I felt the
planking of it beneath my feet I halted.
The whereabouts of the woman I had no
means of determining. "However,"
thought I7. i her business is self-destruction,
she has not yet transacted it for I
have heard no splash."
Ah! Suddenly a flare of heatlightningon
the eastern horizon illuminated the land
and the water. It was very brief, but it
lasted long enough for me to take my bear
ings, and locate the object of my quest She
was standing, a mass of shadow, at
the very verge of the little dock, at a dis
tance ot not more than three yards in front
of me. A moment later I had silently
gained her side, stretched out my hand, and
laid firm hold upon her by the arm.
In great and very natural terror she
started back fortunately not in the direc
tion of the water: otherwise she had cer
tainly tumbled in, perhaps dragging me
with her. And though she uttered no
articulate cry, she caught her breath in a
sharp spasmodio gasp; and I could feel her
tremble under my hand.
I sought to reassure her.
"Do not be alarmed," I said, speaking as
gently as I could. "I mean you no manner
of evil. I saw you come down here from
the street above, and it struck me as hardly
a safe place for a person of your sex to visit
alone at such an hour."
She made no answer. A prolonged shud
der swept over her, and she drew a deep,
long sigh.
"You have no reason to fear me," I reit
erated. "I have only come to you for the
purpose of protecting-you, of serving you, if
I can. Look ah, no; it's too dark for you
to see me; but Tarn a white-haired old man,
the last person in'the world you need be
afraid ot "Son would not f remble and draw
away if you could understand how far I am
from wishing you anything but good."
She spoke: "Thep release my arm."
Her tone was haughty and indignant She
enuciated each syllable with frigid preciae
ness. From the cultivated quality of her
accent, and the singnlar sweetness of her
voice, I saw that I had to do with a person
of education and refinement
"No," I returned, "I dare not release
your arm."
"Dare not?" she repeated, with an inflec
tion of mingled disdain and incomprehen
sion. "No, I dare not." I said again.
"Possibly you will be good enough to ex
plain what it is yon fear."
"Frankly, I fear I suspect that you
mean to do yourself a mischief. I dare not
let go my hold upon you, lest you might
take advantage of your liberty to throw
yourself into the water."
""Well, and if I should?"
"That would be a very foolish, not to say
a very criminal, act"
"But what concern is that of yours?
"What right have ypu to molest me? My
life is my own, is it not, to dispose of as. I
please?"
"That is a very vexed and difficult ques
tion, involving the fundamentals of ethics
and theology. I do not think we can profit
ably enter into a discussion of it just now
and here. But this much I will promise
you," said I, "I shall not let go my hold
upon your arm until I am persuaded that
you nave renounced your suicidal' pur
pose." "You are insolent and intrusive, sir.
You presume upon the fact that I am a
woman and alone to take a shameful and
unmanly advantage of me."
"I am sorry that such is your opinion of
me. I do only what I must"
"You tell me you are an old man. I am
not old, and I am strong. I warn you now
to let me go. If you exasperate me be
yond endurance If we should come to a
struggle"
"Ah, but we will not,"I hastily rejoined.
"You will' not employ your superior
strength against one who is moved by no
other feeling than good will toward you
and besides," I added, "though it is true
I am close upon 60 years of age, my muscles
ave still some iron in them. I fancy I
shall be able to hold my own."
This, I must acknowledge, was sheer
braggadocio. I weigh but 120 pounds,
measure but 6 feet 4 in my boots,' and am
anything rather than an" athlete.
"Yon are a meddler, sir. Goodorbadt
your motives do 'not' interest me. Let me
go. Mr patience is exhausted. Belease say
arm. sfr. I will brook .'no further inter
vferenee. NYour, eo&dHst' is an butnw I,
warn yon on.-wJfeIoBjmo.iei. me go.-
. " r-lltl. .ii :.
Dispatch by
(Uexixy ECarland.)
spoke in genuine anger, stamping her foot
and tugging to escape my grasp.
""What I do, madam, I do lor your own
benefit In common humanity I am bound
to do it I should be virtually your mur
derer if I did otherwise. It is my bounden
dutv to restrain you, to help you."
"Help, me, sirl You are in no position to
help me. There is no help for me. I have
not asked your help. You are meddlesome
and officious. I will not dispute with you
longer. Let me go." She spoke the last
three words with intense emphasis. I could
heather teeth come together with a decided
click jifter them. And again she tugged to
escape from me.
"You require of me the impossible," was
my reply. "It is impossible for me to let
you go. T implore you to control yourself,
and listen to me for one moment You are
laboring under great excitement; you are not
accountable, you are not yourself. How can
I let you go? I should never know another
instant ot peace if I stood by and suffered
you to do yourself the injury you contem-
Slate. I should be a brute, a craven, if I
id that. As a human being I am com
pelled to restrain you if I can. Yon must
see that it is morally impossible for me to
let you go that I should be answerable for
your death, if I did 'so. Now, let me take
you home. To-morrow morning you will feel
differently, you will thank me then for
what you now call an outrage.
Think ot your friends, your family,
No matter what anguish you may be suffer
ing, no matter to what desperate straits
your affairs mav be arrived, you have no
right to attemp't your life. Besides, yon
say you are yonng. Therefore, you have
the future before you. You have hope. I
am older than you, and wiser. Be advised
and guided by me. I myself have suffered
as acutely as you can be suffering now as
acutely as it is possible for human nature to
suffer. I am 63, nearly 66, years old. "Who
can have reached that age without having
sounded the utmost depths of pain? I speak
to you out of my own experience when I ex
hort you not to give way to your present im
pulseout of my own experience, and in
enlightened sympathy. Come, let me take
you to your home."
"Home I" she repeated bitterly. "Oh, sir,
you don't know how you torture me. I have
no home. I have no home, no family, no
friends. Let me go. I have not a penny in my
pocket; not a roof in this city no nor in the
whole world, for that matter, under which I
can seek a welcome; not a relation, not a
DISSUADED
friend, not even a friendly acquaintance to
miss me, not even to inqmre after me if I
disappear. Now will you let me go? I am
in extreme misery, sir. There is no help
for me, no hope. My life is a wreck, a hor
ror. I can't near it, I can't endure it any
longer. Let me go, sir. If old and experi
enced in sorrow, as you deem yourself, if
you knew what it is to reach that pass
where life means nothing for you but fire iu
the heart, you would not detain me. You
could condemn me1 to no agony,-sir, worse
than to have to live. To live is to remem
ber; and so long as I remember I shall be in
torment. Even to sleep brines me no relief,
for when I sleep I dream. Oh, for mercy's
sake, let me go. Go yourself. Go away,
and leave me here. You will not repent it,
sir; you may always recall it as an act of
kindness. lam sure you mean to be kind.
Be really kind and do not interfere with me
further."
She spoke with irresistible passion. I
was stirred to the bottom of my heart
" "Dear lady," I said, "I wish you could
know deeply and sincerely I feel for you,
how genuine and earnest my desire is to
help you. Pray, pray give me at least a
chance to do so. Look: I live iu one of
those houses above there on the terrace,
where you see the lights. You say you have
no roof under which yon can seek a
welcome; I will promise you a hearty
welcome there. You sayyou are friendless;
let me be- your friend. Come with me to
my house. I believe, nay, I am sure I will
be able to help you. Anyhow give me a
chance to try. I am an old man, a physi
cian. Come with me and let me talk to
vou. I can show you a better way out of
your troubles than the one you propose to
take. But 1 will make a oargam witn you.
Come with me to my house and let me say
my say to the end. If, after that; if, after'
yonr have heard me through yon aie still of
your present mind, I will then suffer yon to
depart unattended, without let or hindrance,
to go wherever and to do whatever yon see
fit No harm can come to yon from accom
panying me to my home, no harm by any
hazard; but possibly much good. Try it
Try me. Trust me. Come. At the utmost
you need lose no more than an hour,
within an hour, if you still wish it, you
may go your way alone. I give yon my
word of honor. "Will yon come?"
"You leave me uo free choice, sir. It will
be my only means of escaping from vou".
But within an hour, it is agree'd, I shall be
my own mistress again. After that you
will not seek to restrain me further?"
"At the end of one hour you may go or
stay, according to yonr own pleasure."
"Very well, I am ready."
CHAPTEB HI.
lied her into my back parlor, which I
use as a library and study, and turned up
the gas. Then I looked at her. I was not
surprised to see that she was very hand
somenay, better than handsome, beauti
ful. I don't know that I can explain pre
cisely what had prepared me for that dis
covery; perhaps, in part, her voice, which
was exquisitely sweet and melodious; per
haps, simply, the tragical and romantic
conditions under which X had fonnd her.
"However that may be. beautiful she indu--bitably
was.
She wore no bonnet; and Jier disheveled
hair, dask brown and abundant, hung like
a rich soft cloud of smoke about her brow.
Her skia was firfs in texture and deathly1
pale. - Her eyes, large, 'dark, liquid, weret
eaetioBalaad iateJlieefit,- Herssoatrh was
. ' r7
ge&ef8aaifljsiBaiTehtifera, and
in color perfect But oveher whole cow-;.
tenance was written legibly the signatnijv ;
of hopeless grief. Her dress was of soss
black material, very plain la pattern a-J
.ltnawThat ths worse for wear.
"Be seated," I began. "Put yourself t " '
ease in mind and body. Ana nrss oi ai,
let mo offer you a glass of wine."
"Yon may spare yourself that trouble,'!
sir," she replied. "I do not drink wine."
""Well, then, a composing draught Yo.
are mypatient for the time being, remem
ber. You. must let me prescribe for you.
You are in a state of excessive nervous ex
citement, bordering upon hysteria. Drink
this." . , ,
. .t .Unra ti. ir. that mr disorder is-not
nf bodv." she said wearily. "No aedieine-
ean relieve it
'Nevertheless, I will beg of vou. to drink
this little thimbleiuL It can't hurt too,
even if it should fail to benefit yott.
"For aught I know it may contain a
drug." . . T
"It certainly does contain ft drug. X
should not offer you aqua pnra."
"I mean a poison."
"Do you think I would hava dissuaded
you from suicide, immediately thereafter to
seek to poison you?" .
"I don't mean a deadly poison. Yoa
could do me no greater kindnesa than to
give me a deadly poison. I mean it may
contain some opiate to deprive me of power
over myself, so that I shall be unable to
leave your house when the time is np."
"Madam, look at me. Have 1 the ap
pearance of a man who would wantonly lie
to you? "Who would seek to get the better
of you by an underhand triek like that?'
"No, you do not look deceitful sh
answered", after a moment's inspection of
my face.
'Then trust me enough to drink this."
"lam your prisoner. I suppose J must
obey my jailor," she submittedjand emptied
the glass which I had proffered.
"Now, if you are willing, we may talk,
said L
"What is there to talk about? I, at aiiy,
rate, have nothing to say. But I am your
prisoner for the term of one hour. You, of
course, may talk as much as you desire.
But at the end of one hour . Please
look at your watch. "What time is it now?"
"It is 20 minutes after midnight"
"Thank you. Five minutes have already
passed. At 1:15 1 shall be free to leave."
"Yes, if yon then wish it But I doubt if
you will-" . w
"Your doubt Is groundless, sir. How
ever, if it pleases you to cherish it, you may
do so till the hour is finished."
"No, I cannot think my doubt is ground
less. I told you I should be able to show
you a way out of your troubles better than
the desperate one you were proposing to
take; and now I will make good my
promise."
"Being more fully acquainted with ray
own affairs than you are, I assure you that
your promise is one which cannot by any
possibility be made good."
"Time will prove or disprove that asser
tion. To begin with, may I ask yona
question or two?"
"You may ask me 20 questions. I do not
pledge myself to answer them."
' w ell, wilt you answer mis ouo .a. ..
s-
EEOM SUICIDE.
right in having understood yon to sav;
when we were below there, on the dock,
that you have no friends or kindred whose
feelings you are bound to consider in deter
mining your conduct, and no worldly tie
or associations which you are bound to re
spect?" "Yes, you are right in that"
"I am right in having understood you to
say that But is what you said literally,
true?"
"I am not in the habit of lying, sir."
V "My dear madam, I did not mean any
such imputation. But you were very much
agitated, and sometimes when we are agi
tated we unwittingly exaggerate."
"I did not exaggerate. "What I told yom
was literally true."
"And the rest that yott said? That also
you reaffirm? That you are penniless, home
less, weary of life and wretchedly unhappy?
It seems brutal for me to state it thus; but I
must understand clearly, for a purpose
which you will presently see."
"Yon need not apologise, sir. This is no
occasion for mincing matters. Yes, I'am
homeless, penniless, weary of life and
wretchedly unhappy. But I am worse than
that I am bad. I am utterly depraved,
and base, and degraded," she added, looking
me steadily, almost defiantly in the eye.
So for an Instant; then, dropping her gaze,
her cheek burning, her lip quivering, she
went on: "If L were only unhappy, it
would be different TJuhappiness can be
supported, can be outlived. But I am bad,
wicked, guilt-stained through and through.
Guilt such as mine cannot be outlived, nor
lived down, nor washed out nor in any wise
altered nor amended. "What I have done
the evil I have done can never be undone.
The spot upon me reaches in to the core. If
you knew what I am, if yon suspected tka
crime I have committed, yoa would not har
bor me in your house for a single minute.
You would feel that my presence was a con
tamination; that I polluted the chair I sit
in, the floor under my feet The glass I just
drank from you would shatter it Into bits,
that no Innocent man or woman might- ever
put lips to it again. There! I have said
the worst Can't you see now that I am be
yond help? "What has a guilty wretch like
me to live for? "Whykeepme here an hour?
Let me go at once."
She rose and stood restive, as If expecting
a dismissal
' "No, no; you must stay out your hour at
all events," I insisted. ''Sit down again
I am sure you are not as black as you nalnt
yourself; and In any ease, guilt confessed
and repented of, is more than half atonjed
for. Even if you were ten times blacker,'
however, it would make no difference to me.
"Which of us is spotless? I shall not cast a'
flfnnn ftfeTnn."
"STou are magnanimous," she said bit- -
"Think of me as scornfully as yon will.'
I returned, "I am very sincerely anxious to
befriend you."
"It that is trne, you nave it m year -f;
power to do so witn marvelous ease.-
"How so?" I queried.
"Absolve me from my agreement to stay
here an ,honr. Sit still there la yonr chair
and let me go about my business nasteleatw
and at once." lt
"Do yon long so hungrily for death that
you cannot spare 60 .minutes?" I de
manded. , ""Why should I waste 60 ssiamfes, or om
minute, or half a minute 1b idle talk?
Every second by whieh my lite is pro-'
Iqpged kaseoesi of woes. Tb.I1obb-
hungrily for death. Sfewe I as smM be-
y"S W " 'HMllStag, MIMMrIlSt:
l."Am,3 -MJrSSuWSfSTS
1
iTST fiT'.r,t"r' "'"
BBS