The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa on January 20, 1892 · Page 6
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The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa · Page 6

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Algona, Iowa
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Wednesday, January 20, 1892
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REPUBLICAK, AL&OM* IOWA, WEMESBAt, JJLRTttAfit SO, By FERGUS W. HUME, "Then her*'' fwlo "No on,-. way of it ' 1 Bat ' "*• Wbo'8 'ef* ssKed Sal, puzzled. "Mr. Fitzgerald, the gentleman you brought the letter for to the Melbourne club." "Oh, 'imf said Sal, ft sudden light breaking ovet her wan face. "1 never know'd his name afore." > (Jalton nodded complacently "1 knew you didn't," he said; "that's why yoli didn't ash for him at the club." •'She iiovcr told me 'is name," said Sal, jaruing hPi hand in the direction Of the bed. -.•no did she ask you to bring to i On I ton, eagerly. " replied tho girl. "This was the (.in thnt night she was orfll ill an 1 * PI- while gran' was asleep." "1 o-is drunk, bliist ye," broke in gran 1 , flprcelv -noiii-iif yord lies, I was blazing drunk, glory rallelujah." "An •«•« she to me, she ses, went on the girl, iii'liuVrpntto her grandmother's interruption ' •(» me some paper an' a pencil, an' I'll write a note to 'im, I will.' So I goes an 1 gits 'er ivlnvt she arslcs fur out o'gran's box." "Stole it, blast ye," shrieked the old hag, shaking her fist. " Hold your tongue," said Kilsip In a peremptory tone. Mother Guttersnipe burst into a volley of oaths, and having run rapidly through all sha Unew, subsided into a sulky silence. •'She wrote on it," went on Sal, "and then arslied me to take it to the Melbourne club an' give it to 'im. Ses I, 'Who's 'im?' Ses she. 'It's on the letter; don't you arsk no questions tin' you won't 'ear no lies, but give 'it to'im at tha club, an 1 wait for'im at the corner of UourUe street and Russell street,' t5o out 1 goes, and gives it to a cove at the cluh, an' theu 'e c-omos along, an' ses 'e, •Take me to 'er,' and 1 looked 'im." "And whnt like was the gentleman?" "Oh, wrrysood lookiu'." said SaL "Werry tall, with velior 'air an' mustache. He 'ad party clothes on, an' a masher coat, an' a soft 'at" "That's- Fitzgerald right enough," muttered (Jalton. " Aud what did he do when he came'" " He got's right up to 'er, an' she ses, you 'e?' an' 'e ses, 'I am.' Then ses she, 'Do you know what I'm a-goin' to tell you?' an' 'e says. No ' Then she ses, 'It's about'er;' an 1 , 8 es 'e. looking veryjwhite, "Ow dare you 'ave 'er name on your vile lips?' an' she gits up an' .screeches, 'Turn that gal out, an 1 I'll tell you;'an' 'e takes me by tho arm an'ses 'e, "Ere. git out,' an' 1 gits out, an' that's all I knows." "And how long was he with her!" asked Calton, who had been listening attentively. " 'Bout arf a hour," answered SaL "1 takes 'im back to Russell street about twenty- five minutes to 2, 'cause I looked at the clock (onthe postofflce, an' 'e gives me a sov., an' then 'e goes a-tcarin 1 up the street like anything." - "Take him about twenty minutes to walk to East Melbourne," said Calton to himself. "So he must just have got in at the time Mrs. Sampson said. He was in with •Queen' the whole time, I suppose?" he asked, looking keenly at SaL "1 was at that door," said Sal, pointing to it, "an 1 'e couldn't 'ave got out unless I' seen 'im." • "Oh, it's all right," said Calton, nodding to Kilsip; "there won't be any difficulty in proving an alibL But 1 say," he added, turning to Sal, "what were they talking about? r "1 dunno," answered Sal. "1 was at the Judg» hftWnfc enwml and the opMMd, Carton *'•"*> «> «»lf* w -» , and stated in ft to* worda the Hue of defstw* h* int»nd«d to tak* H* would first call Albert Dendy, a watob- maker, to prove that on Thursday night, ftt 8 o'clock in ttw evening, be called at the prisoner's lodgings while the landlady was out, and while there bad put the kitchen clock right and had regulated the same. He would also call Felix Rolleston, a friend of the prisoner's, to prove that the prisoner was not in the habit of wearing rings, and frequently expressed his detestation of such a custom. Sebastian Brown, a waiter at the Melbourne club, would be called to prove that on Thursday night a letter was delivered to the prisoner at the club by one Sarah Rawlins, and that the prisoner left the club shortly before 1 o'clock on Friday morning. He would also call Sarah Rawlins to prove that she had delivered a note to Sebastian Brown for the prisoner, at the Melbourne club, at a quarter to 12 ou Thursday night, and that at a few minutes past 1 o'clock on Friday morning she had conducted the prisoner to a slum off Little Rourke street, and that he was thero between 1 and 3 on Friday morning, the hour at which the murder was alleged to have taken place. This being his defense to the charge brought against the prisoner, he would call Albert Dendy. Albert Dendy, duly sworn, stated: 1 am a watchmaker, and carry on business In Fitzroy. 1 remember Thursday, the S6th of July last. On the evening of that day 1 called at Powlett street, East Melbourne, to my aunt, who is the landlady of 'the prisoner. She was out at the time I called, and 1 waited in the kitchen till her return. I looked at the kitchen clock to see if it was too late to wait, and then at my watch. 1 found that the clock was ten minutes fast, upon which 1 put it right, and regulated it Pr Calton—At what time did you put it right? •Are horrible! 1 ---- ----then 'e conies to me, and ses, quite wild like, •Take me out of this 'ell!' an' Itooked 'im." •Take me out of "And when you came back! ^ "She was dead,." "Deadf "A? a blessed door nail," , said bal, I was in the room wailed Mother Gut"Cuss 'er, she was "An 1 I never know'd with a Worsted corpse," tersnipe, waking up. allays a-doin' contrary things. "How do you knowS" as he rose to go. "I know'd 'er longer nor you, cuss ye, croaked the old woman, fixing one evil eye on the lawyer; "an 1 1 know what you'd like to know . but ye shan't, ye shan't." Calton turned from her with a shrug of his shoulders. ••You will come to the court to-morrow Kilsip." he said to Sal, "aud tell said Calton, sharply, . what you have just now told me/ "It's all true, s'elp me," said Sal, i witb Mr .,,-.,, i,.it.u inst. now tola me.' eagerly, » >«: was 'ereall the time. Calton stepped towards the door, followed l>> u,e detective, when Mother U-ul ^'-Tv here's the money for flnin' 'er?" she * iwi-ned point!ng one skinny linger at SaL • - U ,41, considering the girl found herself, said Calron dryly, "the money is in the bank, and «•.:! remain there." -Mi I'm to be done out of my 'ard earned tin -ii-ir m"'" V^' 1 the old lury. "Cuss ye. 1'iravt- a-,,- i:iwrof ye. and get you put in qU " You'll ~r> there yourself if you don't take carp" said'Kilsip. in His soft, purring tones. "Yah!" shrinked Mother Guttersnipe, snap- pin* her U.ny nngers at »>'"• "What do I care about your d d quod) .Ain't 1 been in Pentrig 1 , an' it ain't 'urt me,-it ain't? 1 m as lively as a gal. blnrst ye, and cuss ye." And the old fury, to prove the truth of her words, diuicei'l a kind of war dance in front of Mr. Calton, snapping her lingers aud yelling out curses, as an accompaniment to her ballet. Her luxurious white hair got loose, and streamed out during her gyrations, and what with her grotesque looks and the faint light of the i.-.'i mile, she looked a grewsome spectacle. Caltou. remembering the tales he had heard of the women of Paris at the Rev olution, and the way they danced "La Carmagnole," thought that Mother Guttersnipe Would have heen in her element in that sea of blood and turbulence. He. however, merely shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the ri'Mru. as with a tinal curse, deliv ered in a honrso voice, Mother Guttersnipe sank exhausted on the floor, and yelled for gin. CHAPTER XIX. THE VERDICT OV THE JURY. It is needless to say that the court next morning was crowded, and numbers were unable to gain admission. The news that Sal Rawlius, who alone could prove the inno cence of the prisoner, had been found, and would appear in court that morning, had spread like wildfire, and the acquittal of the prisoner wa» confidently expected by a large number of sympathizing friends, who seemed to have sprung up on all rides, like musUj rooms, iu a single night. When the prisoner was brought in a mur inur of sympathy ran through the crowded, court so ill and worn out he looked, but Oal -con was puswtlwl to account for the expression of his face, so different from that of a man Whose life bad been saved, or, mther, was going to be saved, for in truth it w«a a fore cojQ£ conclusion, "" know wfeo Btote those pa; Witness—About 8 o'clock. Calton—Between that time and 2 in the morning, was it possible for the clock to gain ten minutes? Witness—No, it was not possible. Calton—Would it gain at all? Witness—Not between 8 and 2 o'clock—the time was not long enough. Calton—Did you see your aunt that night? Witness—Yes, 1 waited till she came in. Caltou—And did you toll her you had put the clock right? Witness—No, Ididnot; 1 forgot all about it. Caltou—Then she was still under the impression that it was ten minutes fast? Witness—Yes, 1 suppose so. After Dendy had been cross-examined Felix Rolleston was called, and deposed as follows: I am an intimate friend of the prisoner, i have known him for five or six years, and 1 never saw him wearing a ring during that time. He has frequently told me he did not care for rings, and would never wear them. In cross-examination: Crown Prosecutor— You have never seen the prisoner wearing a diamond ring? Witness—No, never. Crown Prosecutor—Have you ever seen any such ring in hia possession? Witness—No, I have seen him buying rings for ladies, but I never saw him witb any ring such as a gentleman would wear. Crown Prosecutor—Not even a seal ring? Witness—No, not even a seal ring. Sarah Rawlins was then placed in the witness box, and, after being sworn, deposed: i know the prisoner. 1 delivered a letter addressed to him at the Melbourne club, at a quarter to 12 o'clock on Thursday, lifith July. I did not know what his name was. He met me shortly after 1, at the corner of Russell and Bourko streets, where 1 had been told to wait for him. 1 took him to my grandmother's place, in a lane off Little Bourke street. There was a dying woman there, who had sent for him. He went in and saw her for about twenty minutes, and then I took him back to the corner of Bourke and Russell streets. I heard the three-quarters strike shortly after 1 left him. Crown Prosecutor—You are quite certain that the prisoner was the man you met on that night? Wituess-^Quite certin 1 , s'elp me G—. Crown Prosecutor—And he met you a few-' tnlnutes past 1 o'clock? Witness—Yes,'bout five minutes; I'eard the clock a-strikiu' 1 just afore he came down the street, and when 1 leaves 'im agin, it were about twenty-five to a, 'cause it took me ten minutes to git 'ome, and I 'card the clock > three-quarters just as 1 gets to the door. Crown Prosecutor—How do you know it was exactly twenty-five to 2 when you left him* , . . . ,. Witness—'Caur.e I sawr the clocks. I lert 'im at the corner of Russell street, and comes down Bourke street, so 1 could see the post- orllice clock as plain as day, an' wljeu 1 gets into S'.vanton street, i looks at the town 'all .premiscus like, and see the same time them Crown Prosecutor—And you never lost I'ght of the prisoner the whole time? Witness—No; tUero was only one door by the room, an' I was a-sittin' outside it, an' when he comes out he falls over me. Crown Prospi.-utoi—Were you asleep? Witness—Not a blessed wink. Calton then directed Sebastian Brown to be called, who deposed: I know the prisoner. He is a member of the Melbourne club, at which 1 am a waiter. -afaly iiher* was no e-Hdanf* » «n&* tn»( ,he prisoner bad pfcked it up before the d« •easad entered ths cab; But, oo th» othei nand, there was no eviftemse to «to» that it had been picked up in tha cab. It waa far more likely that the glove, and enpecially a white glove, would bo picked up Under tho light of tha Ifttiip near the Scotch church, where it vraa easily notlc&vble, than tn the darknesw of a cab, where there was very little room, and where it would lie quite dark, as the blinds were drawn down. .The cabman, Royaton, swore positively that the man who got out of his cab on the St. Kilda road wore a diamond ritiR on tho forttnger of hia right hand, and the cabman, Ranldn, swore to the same thing about the man who got out at Powlett street. Against this could be placed the evidence of one of the prisoner's most intimate friends—one who had seen him almost, daily for the last five years, and he had sworn positively that the prisoner never was in the habit of wearing rings. The cabman, Rankin, had also sworn that the man who entered his cab on the St. Kllda road alighted at Powlett street, East Melbourne, at 2 o'clock on Friday morning, as he heard that hour strike from the postofflce clock, whereas the evidence of the prisoner's landlady showed plainly that he entered the house five minutes previously, and her evidence was further supported by that of the watchmaker, IJendy. Mrs. Sampson saw the hand of her kitchen clock point to five minutes to 2, and, thinking it was ten minutes slow, told the detective the prisoner did not enter the house till live minutes past 2, which would just give the man who alighted from the cab, presuming him to have been the prisoner, sufficient time to walk up to his lodgings. The evidence of the watchmaker, Dendy, however, showed clearly that he had put the clock right at the hour of 8 on Thursday night; that it was impossible for it to gain ten minutes before 8 on Friday morning, and, therefore, the time, flvo minutes to 3, seen by tho landlady, was the correct one, and the prisoner was in the bouse five minutes before the other man alighted from the cab in Powlett street. These points in themselves were sufficient to show that the prisoner was innocent, but tho evidence of the woman Rawlins must prove conclusively to the jury that the prisoner was not the man who committed the crime. The witness Brown had proved that the woman Rawlins had delivered a letter to him. which he gave to the prisoner, and that the prisoner left the club, personally, to keep the appointment spoken of in the letter, which letter, or rather the remains of it, had been put in evidence. The woman Rawlins swore that the prisoner met her at the corner of RusseU and Bourke streets, and had gone with her to one of the back slums, there to see the writer of the letter She also proved tha t at the time of the committal of the crime the prisoner was still in the back slum, by tho bed of the dying woman, and, there being only one door to the room, could not possibly have left without tha witness seeing him. The woman Rawlins further proved that she left the prisoner at the corner of P^ussell and Bourke streets at twenty-five minutes to 2 o'clock, which was five minutes before Royston drove his cab up to the St. Kilda police station, with the dead body Inside. Finally, the woman Rawlins proved her words by stating that she saw both the postoffice and town hall clocks; and supposing the pnisoner started from tho corner of Bourke and Russell streets, as =he says he did, he would reach East Melbourne in twenty minutes, which made it five minutes to 3 on Friday morning, the time at which, according to the landlady's statement, be entered the house. All the evidence given by the different witnesses agreed completely, and formed a chain which showed the whole of the prisoner's movements at the time of the committal of the murder. Therefore, it was absolutely impos- | sible that tb» murder could have been committed by the man in the dock. The strongest piece of evidence brought forward by the the prosecution was that of the witness Ha- bleton, who swore that the prisoner used threats against the life of the deceased. But the language was merely the outcome of a passionate Irish nature, and was nob sufficient to prove the crime to have been committed by the prisoner. The defense which the prisoner set up was that of NYE. THE HUMORIST. B. J. EDWARDS WRITES OP ONB WHO ENTERTAINS US. Bred to' the Law, tli« Most CUtttrtnlng tit Modern Jokers Decided tit ttrow Cp with the Cttttntry In Lai-amie, Wy. til* Mternry Career—His Home. .Copyright, 1803. by American Press Associa- tion.1 .' , IMr. Nye telegraphs the editor from Asheville, N. 0.. that he la painfully, though not dangerously, HI there, and will not therefore be able to furnish his usual letter this week. Occasion Is therefore taken to offer the readers of this paper an appreclatlvo sketch of the humorist from the pen of Mr. E. .1. Edwards.] About twelve years ago there began to appear in different newspapers extracts which were said, to have Been copied from a journal published at Lara- niie, Wy.. the name of which was alleged to be The Boomerang. The Sketches were delicious, but for a long time many of those who enjoyed the humor of the7ii were very doubtful about i donflienftnOB of the tttitn< „ .4k* He #&» Qft$ &fthose men whoia It made one jolly even to look upon, Ftttt seemed bubbling over his iitra even When he was qniet, and mirth coabtantly Btnilett from his eyes. Yet this Nye was what Bill Nye neVer was, and probably never can bo—a successful politician. Hia humor served him well, for he made ttse of it in atteh effective manner ttpon the stump that vast throngs flocked to hear him whenever he was announced to speak, and the fame which Tom Corwin had wbn as the wittiest speaker upon the hustings Nye maintained after Corwin passed over to the majority. Bill Nye has. been and is everything that Jim Nye was not, excepting that the two men possessed a common surname, and a common gift of humor. The Nye of the newspapers stands six feet in his stockings, and could have looked down upon the parting of Jim Nye's curly hair. Bill Nye is of pale complexion; Jim Nye was ruddy. Bill Nye until recently was of such slender build as made his height all the more conspicuous; Jim Nye was rotund, unctuous^ and in his later days almost flabby in bis fleshiness. He had a splendid crown of curly What He chwe. m he chose, deplume, M be subject t< restrifetionfi ot discipline of the and it was common report that H6 to receive $5,000 ft year for tine ttfloif* taking. This shrewdness of manage ment unquestionably, saved Nye tfm being bnried in that mighty wave Of literary endeavor which produces anonymously the best in our daily newspapers. It revealed that Nye was as strong m business as he was great in humorvafld from that time on his pathway has ttsett. one Of ever increasing prosperity. Bis fame being established, he waa^ able to make other newspaper connections, so that in the course of a year or two he was in receipt of an income of over $10,000 a year. There were times when Mr. Nye felt some sadness that his reputation should be merely that of a. literary jester, but he consoled himself with the thought that he was giving ra- nocent delight to thousands, was providing well for his family and also with* the hope that in the future he would bo- able to win a more critical reputation m; higher literary endeavor. His business instincts served him well also when he entered the lecture field. The work is hard and dreary and entails absences from a most charm- his spectacles and beardless face have enabled the caricaturist to suggest a to the original. Nye himself as so~that in the past four or five years Mr. a's income has equaled that of' the,„ coulee re ,,l>do»n ? to.o M ly t? - | g-"^*£ JSiSJSftfi They merely the individual profits era and merchants have received from their business, and has been equaled, among literary men probably only by the income 'of the Eev. Dr. Talmage. semble these caricatures. suggest the man as he is. Since Nye's popularity has become universal wherever the English Ian- truaee is read; he is.no longer compared i «"- •- ----- -- ---- _ -. with any man, and no one tries to con- He- has ventured into the dr ama, al™Ws P ecularand delightful ability thou^ he is not a drama ^ and must with relationship to any, distinguished ever rely upon those who have dramate instinct and experience to make His for stage representation. He tnan. Very many documents of Nye's have been written. Most of them are flippant and many of them are feeble iinitu.iHnn« nf thf> humorist's peculiar EDGAR W. NYE. imitations of the humorist's peculia literary mannerisms. Ho really deserves mora serious treatment. His the existence of a newspaper with such an alibi, and the evidence of tho witnesses for the defense proved conclusively that the prisoner could not, and did not, commit the murder. Finally, Calton wound up his elaborate and exhaustive speech, whieb lasted for over two hours by a brilliant peroration, calling upon tho jury to base their verdict upon the plain facts of the case, and if they did so they could hardly fail iu bringing in a verdict of "not guilty." When Caltou sat down a subdued murmur of applause was heard, which was instantly suppressed, aud the judge began to sum up, which he did strongly in favor of Fitzgerald. The jury then retired, and immediately there was a dead silence in the crowded court—an unnatural silence, such as must have fallen on the blood loving Roman populace when they saw the Christian martyrs kneeling on and and On that the hot yellow Bands of the arena, watched tho long, lithe forms of lion panther creeping stealthily toward their prey. The hour being lute, the gas had been lighted, ard there was a sickly glare through the wide hall, which added to the singularity of the sceua Fitzgerald had been taken out of court on the retiring of the jury, but the I remember Thursday, 20th July night the last witness came with^ a letter to the prisoner It was about a quarter to 12 She just gave it to me, and went away. 1 delivered it to Mr. Fitzgerald. He left the club at about ten minutes to 1. This closed the evidence for the defense, and after the crown prosecutor had made his speech, in which he pointed out the strong evidence against the prisoner, Caltou arose to address the jury. He was a fine speaker, and made a splendid defense. Not a single point escaped him, and that brilliant piece ot oratory is still remembered and spoken ot admiringly in the purlieus of Temple court aud Chancery lane. He began by giving a vivid description of the circumstances of the murder—of the meeting of the murderer and his victim in Collins street East—the cab driving down to St. Kilda-tbe getting out of the cab of the murderer after committing the crime—and the way in which be bad secured himself against pursuit Having thus enchained the attention of the jury by the graphic manner in which he described the crime, he pointed out that the evidence brought forward by the prosecution was purely circumstantial, and that they had utterly failed to identify the man who entered the cab with the prisoner iu the dock. The supposition that tlw prisoner and the man in the light coat being one and the same person rested solely upon the evidence of the cabman, Hoystou, who, though not intoxicated, was, judging from his own statements, not in a fit state to dis- tinguisb between the man who hailed tho cab and the man who got in. The crime was committed by means of chloroform, tbere- fpre, if the prisoner was guilty, he must havo purchased the chloroform in some shop or obtained it from some friends. At all events, the prosecution b»4 opt brought forward «* single piece ot evidence to show how and where the chloroform* was obtained Witb regard to the glow belonging to the mur dered man. fcHW «> tb» prisoner's pocket, be picked it up off feeftrat rai* "* spectators starod steadily at the empty dock, ' ,. _i i _ 4.1, n .« !•**» t-nr*iia a seemingly absurd name. However, it began to be understood that a new humorist had arisen and was located on the windy uplands of the northwest, and that his newspaper. The Boomerang, as well as his humor, was genuine. Thus, ten years earlier, through the medium of the exchange editor, the humor of the Danbury News man, which appeared in a little weekly which he owned, became of great repute, and the droll sketches and dry wit of Burdette in a similar way were brought to public view. The Laramie Boomerang man. Burdette, Bailey, Artemus Ward and the first of all that glorious race of humorists, John Phoenix, won the approval of that great class which is the strength of the country and which has but little time for other reading than that which is furnished by the newspapers. These men became popular with the masses, and some of them won not only fame but fortune thereby. Of course it wa.s asked who this genius of humor of the Wyoming uplands was, and the papers began to circulate a rumor that his name was Bill Nye, and that he was a relative of a man who had won great repute, not only as a statesman, but as a fun lover and maker, Jibe late United States senator. Jim Nye. Of course every one wondered whether the Bill Nye who was writing, with that spontaneity which is the basis of all genuine humor. The Boomerang sketches was also the Bill Nye whoni Bret Harte had immortalized, in his •• Heathen Chinee." Harte's celebrity had before this been supposed to be a myth, a creature of his fancy; but there were many persons in the east who felt sure that the Bill Nye of the poem and the Bill Nye of The Boomerang could be no other than one and the same person. it was many months before the public knew that Bill Nye was a nom de plume, and that this genius of humor was bap.- tized Edgar Wilson Nye; that he was born near the pine forests of Maine, reared on the frontier of Wisconsin, was bred a UuVyer anil had ventured as far as Laramie while a young man that he might practice law or grow up with the territory in any way that offered. He had actually become an officeholder, having been elected a justice of the peace. His office brought him small honor and much, misery, but it also gave him. though at the time he little suspected it, a rich fund of experience D<31 TOO H»" *• *• MW**V»»»W -— — ™ • i ^ , popularity, which seems undimmed; his .wife, a charming l * ,„,•,,,.« av,™oaoQa n.nrl Viis recosr- helpmeet for snch a great pecuniary successes and his recognition of late by those who have been called the arbiters of literary fame in this country entitle him to something more than a history which is a mere jest. In all the accounts of Nye nothing has been said of one qualification, which must have brought him success sooner or later, and that is his business capacity. It is remarkable. No other humorist excepting Mark Twain has revealed such u gift. John Phoenix was notably improvident. Had Artemus Ward possessed Nye's business instincts and his moral fiber he could have earned a fortune in a few years, and other humorists who have won some fame have done well if they have been able to make a bare living with their pen. Nye, however, has the business instinct as a native gift, and he has cultivated it well. When ho began to write his sketches for The Boomerang he had no idea that they would be of more than life plays fit has also conquered the literary set, and is now furnishing a series of articles for one of the leading magazines. Mr. Nye's life, however, is in his domestic circle, and it is no wonder. His woman, is just the helpmeet for such a man, and with his four children he is as much a child as any of them. He lives in luxury in a beautiful place on !;.';;vten Island, and has also a residence at Asheville, N. C., where he is now convalescing from the effects of the recent accident from which he suffered in Jargon, Miss. Mr. Nye has barely entered the prtrm- of life, being in his fortieth year, and if his present prosperity attends him beseems likely to become the wealthiest of our literary men. E. J. which seemed to enchain them by some indescribable fascination. They couvei-sed among themselves only in whispers, until even the whispering ceased, and nothing could be heard but the steady ticking of the clock, and now and then the quick drawn breath of some timid onlooker. Suddenly a woman, whose nerves were overstrung, shrieked, and the cry rang weirdly through the crowded halL She was taken out, aud again there was silence, every eye being now fixed ou the door through which the jury would reissue with their verdict of life or death The hands of the clock moved slowly round—a quarter—a half—three quarters— and then the hour sounded with a silvery ring which startled every one. Madge, sitting with her hands tightly clasped together, began to fear that her highly strung nervea would give way. "My God," she softly to berseif, "will this suspense which ia now serving him in drama and higher literature and is giving delight to his almost countless readers. muttered never then the door opened, and the jury re-entered. The prisoner was again placed in the dock, and the judge again resumed hia seat, this time with the black cap in ni» pocket, as every one guessed. The usual formalities were gone through, and when the foreman of the jury Stood up every neck was craned forward, and every ear was on the alert to catch the words that fell from bis lips. The prisoner flushed a little and then grew pale as death, giving a quick, nervous glance at the quiet figure iu black of which he could just catch a glimpse. Theu came in the verdict, sharp and decisive, "Not guilty." On hearing this a cheer went up from every one in the court, so strong was thes; " " """ (To be Continued. ) It is an establish d fact that Pu Witt's Little Eftriy Risers have anenorwoiwsW* MHS. EDQAK W. NVE. When the public found that Bill Nye was a uom de plume (which was really forced upon him), almost everybody still clung to the impression that Mr. Nye was a near relative of the distinguished eenator who represented Nevada in the 'United States senate during Lincoln and Johnson's administrations, yet the only reason fof such an impression was a similarity of surname and a reputation for the capacity to make huwor. Those who saw Senator Nye in his prime, an4 who have also been fortunate enough to take Bill Nye by the hapd, must have felt, however, that the golf fcUwb»P tweea these two men w«j§ to pay those things THE STATEN ISLAND HOME. local interest, nor in fact did he realize the humor that was in them or its market value. He simply reported things in Laramie as he saw them, not understanding that his mental vision and his capacity to reproduce it on paper was of such peculiar nature as would gain for him fame, would create in the popular mind a demand for a constant supply of it, and would therefore have pecuniary value. He, however, realized this when, to his intense surprise, he found that his sketches were appearing in every newspaper in the land. He had an indistinct idea at once that if these things were worth reprinting they w^re worth paying for. They brought him nothing but fame in Laramie, and there he received far less appreciation than anywhere else. Fame in that town was not money, and The Boomerang gave up the ghost. Nye had determined that it was his •duty to cultivate this talent, because he saw in it an opportunity to gain, at least, a fair support, but while he was turning over in his mind the course best to pursue, ho was brought to death's door by an attack of meningitis, and when he was recovering from that he was the victim of a cyclone which had its way with him. blowing him hither and thither, and finally depositing him on the sod with a broken leg and some fractured ribs. This of course brought him to a halt for awhile. While convalescing in the south he wrote an exquisite sketch, accompanying it with a picture which he drew, and sent it to the New York World rather timidly. That paper instantly printed it, and forwarded to Mr. Nye a proposition to join its staff. ... .. His business instinwt Served him well on this occasion. Nine men out 9? ten would have been only too glad if they were situated as he was to form a staff connected with The World upon terms proposed by that paper, but Nye was wise. He felt that it would be a dangerous thing for a humorist to go to New York city. He doubted whethe* such a pers*n could maintain himself there, and be believed .that the chances were that in the whirl of life, and especially of ft newspaper ducted at sucb high pressure aas World, the huworist would be his work would become forced and bis, identity would be lost »»4 . Wliat a Chance! , A clever teacher who has the power of calling out originality in her pupils says that she should certainly have no« time for the use of text books if she attempted to answer all the startling questions asked her in the class. One- > day the attraction of gravitation was- under discussion, and Charley Beale volunteered the opinion that he "didn't see- any need of it anyway." "It seems to me," said Charley, "there's no particular use in having the- earth attract things. Now when the apple fell, and made Newton think out the reason, why that apple might just as well have staid where it was till somebody gathered it." "You play ball, don't you?" asked the teacher. "Yes'm." "Suppose you hit tho ball very high; what happens?" "It falls. " "But if there were no attraction toward the earth it wouldn't fall. Dont you think that might prove inconvenient?" ' Charley did not answer immediately. His eyes were bright with the light of a new idea. • "My!" ho broke forth involuntarily. "What a chance for a home runr— Youth's Companion. to ea- IMscouraging. Mrs. A.—What did Charles have say about the theater last night? Mr. A.—Not much of anything cept that the house was papered. j£ rBj A.—Mercy! Paper the house while the performance was going on? I should think it must have been very dte- couraging. Mr. A.—It was—to Boston Transcript. the bos office.— Tempus Fngit. "Johnny, how many hours are there in a day?" asked Colonel Yerger of his son Johnny, who is attending lectures a.t the University of Texas. •'Twenty-five hours," was the reply, "What has become of tb,e other one?" H "1 don't know, but 1 heard theteaelwy •• say the days were one hour longer than they used to be."-Texas Sittings. An OW Settler. Lord Nobby (to Nevada Nick)-~V must 'ave lived 'ere a good while, eh? Nevada Nick—See that mounting thar? That was a bole in the ground when I came here.—Drake's Magazine. AU She Asked For. \. Ny$ tbei fcKa

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