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staff, and was asked to explain the incom-

" Why," he replied, jestingly, " I have my
own private wire, and shall telegraph from
here directly."

Knowing that orders had been given at
Prince George's office to receive no tele-
gram that night ixova him, Forbes quietly
wrote a letter directed to his fi-ontier agent,
and put it in the post. The next day, it was
telegraphed to London, and copies of the
*• Daily News " were sent to Prince George
with Mr. Forbes's compliments.

Pending the capitulation of Paris in Feb-

ruary, 1 87.1, some fifty journalists waited
hungrily to enter on the side of Versailles
Forbes arranged to enter by the north,
through St Denis, and accomplished his
purpose on horseback, dressed as a Prussian^
and was, in consequence, very nearly killed
by a drunken National Guard. Having litde
knowledge of French and no knowledge
whatever of Paris, he had great difficulty in
finding Mr. Washbume's bureau, where sat
Colonel Hoffinan, who gazed with surprise
upon the first man he had seen fix>m the exte-
rior world. He sent the stranger to Unthank's
English Hotel, in the Faubourg St Honor^
the only hptel open during the siege.
Forbes brought forth fi-om his wallet five
pounds of sliced ham, which Unthank's
people put on a large covered plate and
exhibited in the Faubourg at ten centimes a
peep, as the first outside marketing to enter

After walking about daric streets all night,
Forbes, who had stabled his horse without
leave, rode to Vincennes, where he passed
the Prussian lines. He then galloped fif-
teen miles to Lagny, the terminus of the
German railroad system, which he reached
in time to catch the train for Germany,
but killed his poor horse in the efibrt
On went the war correspondent for twenty-
two hours, without stopping. Reaching
Carlsruhe at two o'clock in the morning,
he made his way to the telegraph-office,
where the two girls in charge refiised to take
a long telegram imtil day set in. Coaxing
and bribery, however, accomplished their
purpose. At eight o'clock the dispatch was
finished which gave the first details of the
interior of Paris that had reached England
for a week. Taking the next train to Paris,
Forbes entered the Hotel Chatham on the
morning of the third day after his departure,
and was roundly chaffed for his delay by
two journalists who had just got in. Fancy
their feelings on reading the '' Daily
News"! Couriers were so untrustworthy
that it was not unusual for Forbes to cany
news to England twice a week. He was
often the only passenger, and nearly died
fix>m fatigue.

After witnessing the great parade at Long-
champs, Forbes on the same day accompa-
nied the German troops into Paris. Leavmg
the German cordon and entering that part
of the town still in French hands, he was
assailed by the mob as^a German spy. A
fight ensued, in which Forbes's clotiies were
torn off. '* Let us drown him I " shouted the
mob, who threw him on the ground and

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was done to advertise the trick, both through
the Dews|>apers and by posters. No less
than six thousand "three-sheet bills" were
"put out" in New York in two days, and
for three successive Sundays two-column
advertisements appeared in the '< Herald,"
and smaller ones in the other papers. The
result was that, by eight o'clock of the first
night of the performance, the house was
so crowded that no more tickets were sold,
and hundreds were turned away from the
door. ^

The ''Indian-box trick" was in every
mouth, and yet I venture to say that not
one in ten had any idea of what it was. As
many of my readers may be in the same
state of woful ignorance, let me describe it.

A large wooden box (Fig. i), something
like a packing-case, the Ud of which is


*■ » ^ • • M»


I J J I . i


proridcd with hinges at the back and
hasps and staples at the front, is brought
on the stage, and a committee, appointed
b7 the audience, is invited up to examine it
After it has undergone the severest scru-
tiny, and been pronounced a "fair, square
box in every particular," the committee pro-
ceed to tie it up with rope in any way tiiey
see fit. When- tied, the knots of the rope
are covered with sealing-wax, and stamped
with the private seal of some member of the

On the top of this box is placed a board
about as wide as the lid of the box, but not
so long, somewhat like a mason's mortar-
board, on two opposite sides of which are
heavy plate-staples f Fig. 2). A young man
stands on this boara, and is covered with a



no, 9. THS BOAJCD.

conical-shaped basket. This basket has a
n^vy iron ring running around and woven
*bottt its mouth, and to this ring are forged,
*t opposite sides to each other, two staples


(Fig. 3). When the basket is placed over the
young man, the staples in its ring fit directly
over those on the board ; padlocks are passed
through these staples and locked, the key is
held by one of the committee, and, if it is
desired, the key-holes are sealed with wax.

It would seem impossible for the young
man imprisoned beneath the basket to -get
out, but yet he does. A screen is placed
about the box to shut it out from sight of
the audience, and in the short space of one
minute and fifteen seconds* the man not only
gets from under the basket without remov-
ing the padlock or breaking the seals, but
gets into the corded box without appar-
ently tampering in any way with the ropes.

How does he do it ? That I shall now
explain in as clear a manner as possible.

The simple-looking packing-case, as may
be supposed, is in reality a trick-box.
Along the edges of the front, back, and
ends are fastened stout battens. These
battens are screwed to the boards which
form the upper part of the box; the lower
boards at fiont and back and at both ends
are simply sliding panels. The parts of
these panels which
come directly be-
hind the battens
are fitted with iron
plates, pierced with
holes of the shape
shown in Fig. 4.
The screws on the lower parts of the batten
are dummies — that is, they go partly through

• I believe my former partner and assistant, Mr.
Joseph Allerton, is the only person who has ever
done the trick in such a short tmie.



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" How kem I by the black eye ? W'ell,
dear, 111 tell yer. Afther what yer wur tellin'
me, I niver closed me eyes. The nixt
mamin' I ast. Maggie Hamahan, the up-
staiis gerrl, where was herself. * In her
boodoore,' sez Maggie, an' up I goes to her.
" * What's wantin', Nora ? ' sez she,
" * I've jist heerd as how me cousin's
very sick,' sez I, * an' I'm that frettin', I
mi^ go an' see her.'

" * Fitter fur yer ter go ter yer wurruk,' sez
she,lookin' mighty crass, an' she the lazy hulks
as niver does a turn from momin' till night
** Well, dear, I niver takes sass from anny
av 'em, so I ups an' tould her, ' Sorra taste
av wurk I'll do the day, an' av yer don't
like it, yer can fin' some wan else,' an' I
flounced mesel' out av the boodoore.

" Well, I wint to me room ter dress me-
sd', an' whin I got on me sale-shkin sack, I
bought av me poor ould mother — may the
hivins be her bed I— could only see me, how
Idle she'd be intoirely. Whin I was dressed
I wint down-stairs an' out the fix>nt doore,
an' I tell yer I slammed it well after me.

" Well, me dear, whin I got ter the ma-
jam's, a big chap wid long hair and a baird
like a billy-goat kem inter the room. Sez he :
^ ' Do yer want ter see the majum ? '
"*I do,' sez I.
"* Two dollars,' sez he.
"*For whatP'sezI.
" * For the sayants,' sez he.
'' ' Faix, it's no aunts I want to see,' sez
I, 'but Luke Corrigan's own sel£' Well,
roe dear, wid that he gev a laugh ye'd
think 'd riz the roof.
** * Is he yer husban' ? ' sez he.
" * If s mighty 'quisitive ye are,' sez I,
' bot he's not me husban', av yer want ter
know, but I want ter lam av it's alive or
dead he is, which the Lord forbid 1 '
** * Yer jist in the nick er time,' sez he.
"* Faix, Ould Nick's here all the time,
I'm thinkin', from what I hear,' sez I.

** Well, ter make a long story short, I ped
me two dollars, an' wint into another room,
an' if ye'd guess from now till Aisther, ye'd
never think what the majum was. As I'm
standin' here, 'twas nothirC but a woman I
I was that bet, I was a'most spacheless.

" * Be sated, madam,' sez she, p'intin' to a
chair, an' I seed at wanst that she was a
▼cry shuperior sort o' person. * Be sated,'
«a she. * Yer mus' jine the circle.'

" * Faix, 111 ate a thriangle, av yer wish,*

** * Yer mus' be very quite,' sez she. An' so
I lot down abng a lot av other folks at a table.

" ' First, I'll sing a him/ sez the majum,

* an' thin do all yees jine in the chorus.'

" * Yer mus' axcuse me, ma'am,' sez I.

* I niver could sing, but rather than spile
the divarshun o' the company, av any wan'll
whistle, I'll dance as purty a jig as yell see
from here to Bal'nasloe, though it's mesel'
as sez it.'

" Two young whipper-snappers begin ter
laugh, but the luk I gev 'em soon shut them up.

'' Jist then, the big chap as had me two
dollars kem into the room an' turned down
the lights ; in a minit the majum, shtickin'
her face close to me own, whispers :

" * The sperrits is about — I kin feel 'em !'

" ' Thrue for you, ma'am,' sez I, * ftir I
kin smell 'em !'

'< *' Hush, the iiyfi^ence is an me,' sez the
majum. ' I kin see the lion an' the lamb
lying down together.'

'^ ' Begorra 1 It's like a wild beastess show,'
sez I.

" * Will yer be quite ? ' sez an ould chap
nex* ter me. * I hev a question to ax.'

" ' Ax yer question,' sez I, * an' I'll ax
mine. I ped me two dollars, an' I'll not be
put down.'

" * Plaze be quite,' sez the majum, * or the
sperrits '11 lave.'

^' Jist then kem a rap on the table.

" * Is that the sperrit of Luke Corrigan ?'
sez the majum.

" * It is not,' sez I, * for he could bate
any boy in ELilbaUyowen, an' if his fist hit
that table 'twould knock it to smithereens.'

"'Whist!' sez the majum; *it's John's

" ' Ax him 'bout his progress,' sez « a
woman wid a face like a bowl of stirabout

" * Ah, bathershin ! ' sez I. ' Let John's
bunions alone, and bring Luke Corrigan to
the fore.'

" * Hish ! ' whispers the majum ; * I feel a
sperrit nare me.'

" * Feel av it has a wart on its nose,' sez
I, * for be that token ye'll know it's Luke.'

"'The moment is suspicious,' sez the

" * I hope yer don't want to asperge me
charflrter,' sez I.

" * Whist I ' sez she ; * the sperrits is

"*It's droppin'yer mane,' sez I,pickin' up
a small bottle she let fall from her pocket.

" ' Put that woman out,' sez an ould chap.

"* Who do ye call a woman?' sez I.

* Lay a fing-er on me, an' I'll scratch a
map of the County Clare on yer ugly phiz.*

" * Put her out ! ' * Put her out ! ' sez two or

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We have watched, for instance, the working of the
pUn of the generoos husband and father, who says :
" Come to me for what yon want, whenever you want
it I don't wish to limit yoo. Some years you will
want more, and some less/' This seems very gen-
erous ; but, in truth, these women prefer to know
about what the man thinks they ought to spend, or
tbout what he regards as the amount he can afford
to have them spend. Having gained this knowledge
by a vduntarily proffered allowance, they immedi-
ately adapt their expenditures to their means, and are
perfectly content It b a comfort to a dependent
woman to look upon a definite sum as her own — as
one that has been set aside for her exclusive use and

A great multitude of the discomforts that attach
to a dependent woman's lot arise from the obtuse-
ness and thoughtlessness of the men upon whom
they depend. There are some men so coarsely
made that they cannot appreciate a woman's
sensitiveness in asking for money. They honestly
intend to do their duty — even to deal generously —
by the women dependent upon them, but they can-
not onderstand why a woman should object to come
to them for what they choose to give her. If they
win ask their wives to tell them frankly how they
can improve their position, these wives will answer
that they can do it by putting into their hands, or
pacing within their call, all the money per annum
which they think they can afford to allow them, and
not to compel them to appeal to their husbands as
soppliants for money whenever they may need a
dollar or the quarter of one.

The absolutely brutal husband and father will
hardly read this article, but we recall instances of
andty and insult toward dependent women that
would make any true man indignant in every fiber.
A true woman may legitimately rejoice in her de-
pendence upon a true man, because he will never
nuke her f<Ml it in any way ; but a brute of a hus-
band can make a true woman feel her humiliation as
1 dependent a hundred times a day, until her depend-
ence is mourned over as an unmitigated curse.

A Hopeful LcMon.

Oua Northern people have a great deal of impa-
tieDce with the manner in which the Southerner
treats the negro, and all those who teach or specially
befriend him. They cannot appreciate, or admit,
the fact that the Southerner can be conscientious in
this treatment, and that he may honestly and ear-
nestly believe that he b doing God and his country
good service in keeping the negro from his vote, and
even boU-dozing or shooting him to secure that end.
We know that Southern men who stand well in the
chnrch have said, with all heartiness and without any
apparent question of conscience, that it is better that
t negro should be killed than that he should be per-
mitted to vote. That multitudes of them have been
kaW in order to keep them, and scare others, from
fltt polU, seems to be a notorious fact, that is testi-
fi«d to by innumerable living witnesses. To attribute
th» awful outrage exclusively to inhumanity, bru-
t>Uty, and bk>od-thirstiness is to fail utterly to
Vou XXI.

appreciate the situation. The Southerner is tre-
mendously in earnest in his hatred of the North and
its ideas, and in his belief that to proscribe the negro
is to save Southern society from the greatest peril
that can befall it. Love of home, of children, of
posterity even, is one of the most powerful motives
in the perpetration of Mn-ongs upon the black race
which fill the Northern mind with horror and indig-

We have a lasson at hand which may perhaps give
our Northern people a charitable view of the South-
ern sentiment, and inspire them with hope of a great
and radical change. We draw this from a work
recently issued by the author. Miss Ellen D. Lamed,
which seems to be a careful, candid, and competent
history of Windham County, Connecticut It appears
that, in 1 83 1, Miss Prudence Crandall, a spirited,
well-known, and popular resident of the county,
started a school for girls at Canterbury Green. The
school was popular, and was attended not only by
girls from the best fomilies in the inmiediate region,
but by others from other counties and other States.
Among these pupils, she received a colored girL
She was at once told by the parents of the white
children that the colored girl must be dismissed, or
that their girls would be withdrawn from her estab-
lishment Miss Crandall must have been a delight-
fully plucky woman, for she defied her patrons, sent
all their children back to them, and advertised her
school as a boarding-school for " young ladies and
little misses of color." Of course the people felt
themselves to be insulted, and they organized resist-
ance. They appointed a committee of gentlemen to
hold an interview with Miss Crandall, and to remon-
strate with her. But that sturdy person justified
her course and stood by her scheme, as well she
might It was her business, and it was none of
theirs. The excitement in the town was without
bounds. A town-meeting was hastily summoned " to
devise and adopt such measures as would effectually
avert the nuisance, or si>eedily abate it, if it should be
brought into the village."

In 1833, Miss Crandall opened her school, against
the protest of an indignant populace, who, after the
usual habit of a Yankee town, called and held another
town-meeting, at which it was resolved :

"That the establishment or rendezvous, falsely
denominated a school, was designed by its projectors
as the theater * * * to promulgate their dis-
gusting doctrines of amalgamation and their perni-
cious sentiments of subverting the Union. These
pupils were to have been congregated here from all
quarters, under the false pretense of educating them,
but really to scatter fire-brands, arrows, and death
among brethren of our own blood."

Let us remember that all this ridiculous disturb-
ance was made about a dozen little darkey girls,
incapable of any seditious design, and impotent to
do any sort of mischief. Against one of these little
girls the people leveled an old vagrant law, requiring
her to return to her home in Providence, or give
security for her maintenance, on penalty of being
•* whipped on the naked body." At this time, as the
author says, —

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wrong at the heart of things down there. Do the
crhjcs correct or remove that impression ?

Mr. Aabrey denies that there are any laws in
the Southern States authorizing the public sale of
a man's labor. But, if human testimony is worth
anything, soch sales are, or have been recently,
made, under claim or pretense of legal sanction. I
have talked with several colored refugees in Kansas
who daim to have been thus treated, and with former
odgfabors of theirs who declare that they were per-
sonally a^nizant of the facts. Perhaps Mr. Aubrey
is correct — I trust he is — in sa3ring that the law did
not warrant such proceedings. The more*s the
pity, then, and the blame, that they were permitted.
Mr. Bristow, referring to an alleged want of
legal vigor and efficiency in Mississippi, offers to
famish, at my expense, certified records of twenty
cases in his (Monroe) county " in which white men
have been convicted and punished for offenses
against colored men, and as many cases in, which
white men have been made, by legal proceedings, to
pay debts due to colored men," during the past five
years. And, ** in the only case of the killing of a
colored man by a white man " which occurs to him
daring that period, Mr. Bristow adds, " the accused
«as convicted and sentenced to the penitentiary for
life.'* The report is a gratifying one, and I am so
anxious to credit it that I do not care to risk even a
remote possibility of its disproval by calling for the
records. But the glaring truth remains, that the
ookxed people have left, and are leaving, Mississippi
by diousands ; fully one-third of all those who have
come to Kansas are from that State — some of them,
strangely enough, fi-om Monroe county. Why is this ?
Mr. Bristow would have us believe it is because they
are shiftless and useless — ** a class that is a curse to
any country," as he choicely puts it But they have
not proved to be such persons in Kansas ; and we must
be permitted to harbor a suspicion that Mr. Bristow
is mistaken about them. It is possible, too, I fear, that
for every record of justice done to colored men in
Mississippi, a score of cases might be cited in which
the result was strikingly different

Mr. Bristow points his statement with the moral
that Monroe county gives a Democratic majority of

one thousand. He is too modest He should have
said, appealing to the official returns, that while the
Republicans carried the county by a majority of
1 194 in 1872, the Democrats gained it in 1877 by a
unanimous vote. And he could have gone on to
say that in 1878 only 1168 Republican votes were
cast in all Mississippi, though in 1872 the Republi-
can vote of the State reached 82,175. In other
words, 81,000 Republican votes disappeared from
Mississippi politics between 1872 and 1878. What
became of them ? It will hardly be contended that
all these voters were miraculously converted to the
Democratic faith. There was no Exodus to Kansas
in those years, and so they did not leave the State.
They were not massacred, for only one case of kill-
ing " occurs " to Mr. Bristow. How, then, were
they disposed of? Can Mr. Bristow furnish any
"certified records" to cover and explain such an
astonishing change ?

The truth is, the Exodus cannot be accounted for
by special pleading. It is idle to say that twenty or
thirty thousand colored people have fled fi*om the
South, to brave the rigors and privations of a new
life in an alien country, without some vital cause.
If that number of persons had deserted Kansas
and the West during the last eighteen months, it
would be legitimate to inquire what it was that
moved them to do so ; and our people would be able,
I am sure, to give a reasonable and convincing
answer. But the South simply replies with a sneer
and a kick for the departing freedmen, and says she
is glad to be rid of them. I submit, with the best
of feeling, that this does not meet the issue. And
if I may be pardoned the personal allusion, I will
state, for Mr. Bristow's benefit, that I am not seri-
ously agonized over the colored race, and am not
among the advocates or promoters of the Exodus.
My interest in the matter is merely that of the aver-
age citizen unprejudiced by party or sectional views,
and desirous to arrive at facts which concern not the
South alone, but all portions of our common country,
inasmuch as they go to the very root of our scheme
of society and government.

Very respectfully,

Henry King.


Social Aspects of the Drama in London.
The&e was opened last season in New Bond street,
London,a** Dramatic Art-Gallery," an exhibition made
ap oC the portraits of celebrated actors or actresses,
«xi of pictures and sculptures executed by them.
Tl>€»e last, pUy-works though they be, revealed, in
>OBc mstances, marked aptness and ability for art,
•ad woo new consideration for a class of artists popu-
^ly (apposed to pass in pleasure or sleep the hours
■tot spent on the boards. In the current literature of
London, acton are also *• comin' to the fore," and mak-
^ themselves known and felt, especially as dramatic

essayists and critics. In society, a more widespread
and intelligent interest is daily being manifested in
them, their lives and fortunes, their pursuits and
proclivities, and a disposition is shown to assimilate
the dramatic profession as a valuable social element.
By these means " players," having been accorded the
dignity of workers, are becoming less and less ** a
peculiar people" — ^better known to the world, and
knowing it better. The English seem to have
caught the contagion of French liberaHty as regards
the stage, and even to have gone fiirther, assigning
to it in the near future a powerful influence on

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ever to be entertained by competent thinkers. It
teadies * the essential bestiality ' of man, and, if gen-
erallj accepted, it would destroy all the finer quali-
ties of his nature and condition, and reduce him
again to what it claims to have been his primitive
states — at 6rst, a brother to the insensate clod, and
then a beast"

The three essays, dealing more or less directly
with the theory of evolution, which have been
•gleaned" from the various periodicals to which
Professor Bowen has been a contributor, are further
amplifications of this proposition, and would, un-
doubtedly, with all the combative zeal and ingenuity
vbich they display, have proved more convincing it
tbey had taken into account the feet that all believers
in the doctrine of development are not necessarily
infkkls, materialists, or fools. We are inclined to
think that the professor's attempt to establish their
identity with the latter varieties of the human species
(for his argument, logically pursued, amounts to

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