STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT

AUCKLAND, SATUEDAY, APRIL 22, 1882.

MUSICAL NOTES.

[Specially Written for the "Stab" by Professor F. 0. Cailli.uj.]

NO VII.—MUSICAL INSTRUCTION

IN THE COLONIES. IT is incontestably true that the pupils •who {ire trained by the professors attached to the conservatoires of which I spoke in my last profit greatly by good instruction, but they are apt to be a little neglectful of the rudiments of the art. The consequence, naturally, is that, when the aforesaid pupils become teachers in their turn, there will be much more looseness in the elementary part of the instruction ; and if this sort ot thing i 3 con tinued, one may easily judge (or foresee) the result. Indeed, is that not the history of the metre to which we have already made reference. Ah ! well, even that is nothing in comparison witli the perturbation caused in the musical art by the tuuchioe of profes sors, who have themselves learnt music •without any proper conception of it—learut it simply after those little, incomplete methods, that every one interprets in his own manner, and the proßresi-ion of which is so ridiculous. They have certainly for their -object, the pecuniary tiene.lt of the teachers, but are quite inuccaut of the slightest didactic idea. Ah ! if the teaching of the elements of science were no more.regarded thiin the im parting of instruction in the rudiments of music,°witb. what rapidity the most intelli gent nation would sink into decadence. Very happily for oar future, all other branches oi instruction are taught at the expense, and nnder the immediate direction of the Governmental authorities. The free institutions are directed by professors who have obtained at the outset the diploma which certifies to their capacity in the varions University degrees. Thus we take all the necesaary measures iuorder that the work of instruction may be in the hands of clover professors, so that the high est possible standard may be set up. And in this respect we are right, for it is needful that we should lcok for the best results from those who are charged with instruct ing and moulding tho living forces of a nation, little or great; but why, I repeat, should music be excluded from this official care and supervision ? Doss this musical language not merit some attention from na 1 I shall perhaps bs told that music is taught in the public schools in the same way as reading,writing, etc To that I will reply forcibly "no,"forthe system of teaching employed is a species of incomprehensible Hebrew, which can only end in confusing the yonng brains that are obliged to submit to it. I am a devoted admirer and advocate of progress in advance, bat not of progress backward, I grant that the usual musical writing, in spite of its universality, is full of imperfections and incoherences, for the (act hag been acknowledged by the meet illustrious masters of the art; but.in com parison with the Tonic Sol-Fa method,it is even with all these defects as day to night. I have studied well numerous systems, and in taking fifty of them, I do not err in eny idg that the Tonic Sol-fa is the most con fnaiog of all, as regards the sign?. As for its basis, nz., the transposition in the tone of Doh of all the the other tones, the inven tion dates from the last century. It was Pierre Galin, who was born at Bordeuux,and •who died at Patis in 1822, that brought it to light. Therefore,that alone which properly belongs to and makes the Tonic Sol-fa syßtem is the confusion caused by the sub stitution of signs for notes.

J. J. Rousseau, in the last century, presented the great musician Bameau with a system of notation in numbers,-sifins that are infinitely clearer than those of the Tonic Sol-fa and preferable even to those of the usual notation. And vet, this was the ••nswer that it evoked : Ypur system is good, but it cannot be suostituted for that which is in use, because it does not repre sent to the eye the greater or less sharp ness of the notes. The great philosopher assented to this immediately, and withdrew without saying a word. Let us now admit for an instant that the Tonic Sol-fa system may have tome value in the eyes of its propagators, but will they find music to their choice written with their Hebraic signs ? No 1 They mast transcribe it then, and in order to be able to do that they must possess musical knowledge of a certain degree, and that can only be obtained after a study of the ordinary potation. Of what good, therefore, is it for people to learn two notations, since by a wise discretion the; can choose the one that will subsetve all their purposes. I may again be reminded of the movable Doh. What is it that prevents it from being made to move over the lines of the musical stave? Or, again, what is briefer or simpler than to change the key ? For example: If one is in £ major, four sharps,—or in E flat, three flats,—one bas only to substitute for the key of 0 (second line of stave) the key of £) (first line of stave), etc., and, in this manner.the trans .position is made at will, and is easily seen.

Looking-glass Superstitions.

If the looking-plass is associated with mar riage and death, so it is with infancy ; for, aocording to a piece of Durham folk lore, a toy or girl should never be allowed to look in one until a year old. In days gone by, too, it appears to have been customary for both sexes to wear small looking-glasses—a fantastic fashion ridiculed by Ben Jomon and others of his time. Men even wore them in their hats. " Where is your page ? Call for your casting bottle, and place yuur mirror in yonr hat, as I told you." This, "we may 'suppose, was the very height of affectation, by the manner in which Ben Johnston introduces it ; but there can be no doubt, to use the words of Mr Gifford, that both men and women wore then, pub licly—the former as brooches or ornaments in their hats, sometimes in the centre of their fans. As an illustration of the last custom he quotes Lovelace, who makes a lady say—

My lively shade thou over shalt retaine In thy inclosed feather-framedglaßsc. Stubbs speaks with coarse anger of this ridiculous practice, and in his " Anatomic of Abuse " cays : " They must have their looking-glasses carried with them whereso ever they go, and good reason, or else how jjould they see the devil in them ?" .

An Escape from Brigands.

Laisedoyere was fond of wandering among tlie mountains in Sicily; and about three weeks after his arrival at Taormina he made a solitary excursion to tho marble quarries of Monte Zirctto beyond the Fiumara. On his way back he missed his way, and found himself at nightfall skirti tig tlic rocky peak of Lapa. '1 hen he knew where he was, fur he could see Taormina not very far oil. He sat down to rest him self a while and to enjoy the still beauty of tho scene before him. When he got up to pursue his journey he was tttu'tled by the sound of a shot tired close above him, while at the same time a gruff voica cried, " Bocca a terra 1" Ho had been in Sicily long enough to know what those words meant. They meant that he was to throw him-elf on his faco on the ground ' and let the brigands seizo himonpain of being instantly shot. Turning himself in the direction from which trie shot and voice came.hesaw against th^ sky-line tho barrels of six guns pointed at him nt a distance of some ten yards. Labcdoyerc know that tho slightest attempt to escape would instantly draw the lire of those six guns upon him. On the other hand, he believed that he bore a charmed life for another month ; and, with out more ado he rushed down the mountain. To his surprise the brigands did not tire, and he wa-> beginning to congratulate him self on his lucky star, when he found him self thrown violently to the ground and a powerful bloodhound standing over him. He was not hurt, for the brute was thoroughly trained and did not bite unless resistance was ottered. The brigands were upon him before he recovered his presence ot mind, and led him for sonic hours blind folded. When his eyes were unbandaged it was unite dark, and he had no idea where he was. The brigands were very courteous especially one of them whom Lahedoycre soon discovered to he the copobrigante Toward the following afternoon the band arrived at a, mountain cave which was evidently their lair, and where they had tolerablj comfortable quarters. They set food and wine before their prisoner, of which he partook with nn appetite sharpened by his long fast and fatiguing walk. He was then requested to send a note to the Marchcso for a handsome ransom, on receipt of which by the brigands he would be conducted in safety to the neighbourhood of Taormina. It was in vain that Labedoyere explained that he had no claim whatever on the generosity of the Marchese ; equally in vain that he defied them to shoot him. The chief told him in the blandest tones that they never shot a captive. After the ransom became due they sent a piece of his body at inter vals, while life lasted, to quicken the zeal of his family and friends. Labedoyere shuddered. He could face death, but not by piecemeal mutilation. He wrote the note to the Marchese, and awaited tho issue with all the stoicism at his command. In the course of the day the band was angmented by the arrival of four more brigands who had been on an expedition — an unsuccessful one—in another direction. Labedoyere did not at first take particular notice of the new arrivals. By aud by he became conscious that he was apparently an object of curiosity or interest to one of them, whose eyes he found stealthily fixed on him whenever he looked in that direc tion. At last he returned the man's gaze, and was at once convinced that he had seen the face before. All at once it flashed on him that the man was a Genoese soldier who had oeen badly wounded on the field of Arcola. Labedoyere happened to be passing at the moment that the wounded man was about to be thrown into a_ pit aniont; a number of dead bodies, and find ings that his pulse was going he had him car ried to his t-nt. The man recovered, thanks to Labedoyere's care, and was set at liberty by Labedoyere's influence. In the course of the day he managed to slip a paper into Labddoyere's hands on which were scrawled these words : "1 shall be one of your gnard to-night, and will help you to escape. But baware of the hound." And so it fell out. In the afternoon the chief departed with the band, leaving two of them, of whom the Genoese was one, to guard the prisoner. The guards' orders were that neither of of them was to allow the other to sleep for a moment. That night one of them—not the Genoese—fell fast asleep. The Genoese proposed to kill him; but Labedoyere would not consent. He agreed, however, to the proposal of the Genoese that they should bind and gag the sleeping brigand, and then make their escape. For the Genoese had made up his mind to flee with Labedoyere, since he would certainly be put-to death, for conniving at the prisoner's escape. Besides, he had got disgusted with brigand life.

The sleeping brigand was soon over powered, and the two fugitives fled for their lives. It was lucky for Labddoyere that he was not alone, for he had not the least idea which way to turn on leaving the cave. His companion, however, knew the way to Taor mina, and they hurried on as fast as their feet could carry them, in the hope of being beyoDd the reach of capture before day break. For the Genoese did not think it safe to pursue their journey after dawn, since he did not know what direction the band had taken, and wished to avoid the risk of meeting it. He took the further precaution whenever they came^oa stream, to wade through it for a considerable distance and get his companion to do the same, in order to throw'the hound off the Bcentin the event of their being pursued. Toward day break they found themselves following the course of a wide but shallow. mountain stream and waded back through the midst of it for about a quarter of a mile, till they came to a rock standing in the middle of a deep pool, and covered with long grass and dense jungle. To this rock they bothswam, and then hid themselves, all dripping as they were, in the middle of tht thicket. They were just in time, for the quick ear of the Genoese caught in the distance the deep baying of the bloodhound. The hound was then so close that they could see the swaying of the bushes on the hank of the stream as he made hia way through them. At length he reached the place where they had entered the water. lie plunged at once into the stream and ran up and down the opposite bank. He had lost the scent, and after sundry desperate efforts to recover it, he stood stock still and bayed aloud his disappointment. Labcdoyere and bis companion were interested witnesses of all this, and also of the arrival on the scene, half an hour later, of the mpohngantc and four of his band. They searched diligently both sides of the stream, and passed and repassed within a few yards of the hiding-place oi the men they were in search of. Fortunately it

never occurred to them to think of searching that. At last, with some curses at the dog, they appeured to give up the pursuit. But the fugitives did not think it safe to leave thrir place of concealment till it was unite dark. Tuentheyrcsnmcdthoirway witha will and found themselves in the early liioriiing at the Villa San Juliano.

Labedoyere was greeted as one risen from the dead. The Marchese had sent to his banker in Catania for the 'ransom money. But that, of course, was no longer i.eces. sary, —Fmser s Magazine.

Men I Have Known.

I HAVE known many men of many historic.o, some brilliant, some sad, some the most tragical. One presents iteelf to my mind now. He was young, handsome, accom plished, and wealthy. His father, a des cendant of one of the noblest houses iv England, allowed him a very handsome sum for private expenses at Oxtord. It was here that he first learnt the cur.-c of extravagance.; Shortly after _ leaving college, he came, by the death of his father, into an immense fortune, and, contrary to all expectation*, commenced a career of promise. He speculated some thousands in amiue.whicti turned out very favourably and lie more than doubled his fortune. Again he speculated, and again he suc ceeded. How many friends (locked round hiin,\vhnt flattery waspotircdiuto his car,Lut he heeded it not. Shortly after he met and fell iv love with one of the moxt brilliant girls of that day, ihc passion was recipro cated, and a marriage followed. This, so far from detracting from his fortune, but added to it, as the bride—a beautiful, angelic creature —had an immense fortune of her own. l<\om this I date his downfall. How it commenced, L hardly know, cer tainly not on her side, for, so far from seeking society, she shunned it on every possible occasion. I have often fancied that it must have been partly his innate love of praise, aud partly iroin his desire to sbew to the world the beautiful giri, of whom he was so proud. Whatever was the iucentivc, he commenced to keep a house worthy of a prince. I ncied Hcarcely say that he soon luid buzzing Ground him " many admiring friends " who were willing to call him " dear fellow," nod "the mail about town," so long as he ki-pt a good cellar ; but he seemed totally bliud to their hypocrisy, and endeavoured to eclip.-e in brilliancy of banquets, the most pnucely. He was possessed about this time of abuiit £900,000. To describe his champagne sup pers as magnificent, would convey but a faint idea of tbeir splendour. He was " the rage," kept tho beat horses, the best houses in and out of town, and was known in the "beau niondc" as Beau S • itu this lasted only for a little while (four years), and then ruin came. He made frantic efforts to ward it off, but could not. Soon his acquaintances I shunnsd him, he received notes: from many declining furiher friendship. : Some were very bitter against him and said tbat he had brought his young wife to beg gary without an effort, At last the crash came,and he left his residence in the west to go to a humble cottage which » friend who Hadsomebusines-i transactions withhim,pro vided for him. In his cottage a son was horn. He had been staying nere about 18 months when an aged relation dying, left him about £40,000, and with this sum be again entered the world, and strange and contradictory as it may seem,plungcu again into housekeeping. He strenuously opposed all cominuuications from old friends, but accepted new ones, who were in mauy respects worse than tho first. 1 need scarcely go into detail, su dice it to pay, that on that day twelvemonth he left the cot"ago a beggar. The same friend came forward and placed him in a safe and com fortable position,soon after this friend died. About three years after iiis last fall he had nearly £21,000 left him—and, oh strange, inconsistency wiih common sense, oh, blind infatuation and foolish pride—he again started to be "n man about town." This time, however, he proceeded to carefully that his money lasted two years and then came the most awful crash of all ; without hope of aid, without friends cf any kind,ho was turned into the street a helpless man. Talents h« bad many, but he would not use them for his bread. For a time they nearly starved,and then the father of the girl came forward to take her and her child back; but the conditions laid down were these, "that she should not see, hear of, write to, speak of, or any other way have communication with 'that man,' her husband." These con ditions she at once rejected, and was left by her father—a very passionate mau—to starve in an old gjrret near Princess-street, near Buckingham Palace Road, but soon the delicate constitution succumbed to the hardships and in a few months she died of consumption. The father then came and took the child—the daughter he allowed to be buried by the parish—and began to have it educated, according to his own strict .principles, but he might have saved himself the trouble.for the child's health was under mined, and it died in less than 5 years. What became of the father, do you ask 1 He is now in the same wretched garret— unless he has died since I came to the colo nies—dragging out a horrible existence in the midst of misery and vice, and is known as " The Gentleman " by all the customers and pet'.y tradesmen in the neighbourhood.

Moloch.

One of the darke-t and most malignant gods of the idolatrous nations was Moloch, or Molech. He presided over war, and n're was his element. Human sacrifices were offered to this unrelenting power; blood was shed with frightful prodigality on his altars ; andhis name is even now a synonym for whatever is cruel and remorseless in the perversions of religious belief. Whenever a great victory had been achieved, the worshippers of Moloch sacrificed thousands of captives as an expression of thanksgiving. When a campaign was about to commence, the favour of the god was solicited by the slaughter of victims selected from the worshippers themselves. The same execra ble rites were performed if great reverses occurred, or if any special calamity overtook the children.

An Anti-crinoline Society has been esta blished in London. It issues the following protest:—" We, the undersigned, oeliflVing that the artificial aid to dress, known as 'crinoline' and 'hoop,' is inconvenient and nngraceful to the last extent, hereby engage ourselves never to wear the same, whatever attempt is made on the part of milliners to impose this tyranny on the ladies of England,"

The Hardships of Emigrants' Wives.

I USED to think that American women had everything their own way ; that America was a sort of woman's paradise. But these despairing letters modified my ideas con sirlerably. For instance, one woman wrote tbat her husband owned eight hundred acres of laud in lowa ; had reaper, mower, horse-rakfl, and various other more or less costly labour-saving farm implements. All htirvest-time nino men were employed. The wife—mother of five childreu, one a baby in arms—was expected to have break fast on the table daily before sunrise for all this company. (Kcmember that Ameri cans always have hot bread for break fast). She helped in the evening milking of nine cows during the. busiest part of the season, with baby on her lap, if awake "it that hour, and the other children crying for sleepiness. She also had the butter to make whenever the dog was re fractory and refused to chum ; to carry the sower milk to the pigs ; to make and meud, wash, starch, and iron ; wash, dress, and feed the little children ; pick, can, or othor wise preserve fruit for winter use; cook, not only tho three regular meals (with hot bread), but also getrendy the "noonpiece'' —a kind of luncheon, I suppose, eaten in in the field, All this she seemed to take as a matter of course. Other women bad nearly the same work to do, only they had not, perhaps, so many youn« children ; or their husbands, happily, did not farm bo many acres. One thing seemed to strike her as rather bard—and thut was " lugdnc " the buttermilk up from the cellcr nil the way to the pt(j pen. but I think the "'last straw" ia her case was this : she had asked one of the "hands' who was resting iv tnc porch—she being in the agonies of dishing up dinner with a cry io£ baby on ouo arm—to fetch her a bucket of water from the spring, and had there upon being reproved by her husband ! Doubtless the husband was a sort of west ern Legree. Legree, you remember, thought that it was much cheaper to buy fresh negroes now and then, than not to overwork liii plantation hands. This lowa man muat huve reasoned in the Bame way. One letter, detailiue muc& the same state of things, with the exception of the family ot babies to bo cared for, finishes by tho writer complaining tbat all tho summer long she is so tired with the loug day's work, beginning at four in the morning, that «be constantly falls asleep while tiymg to say her prayers I This woman went to bed at eleven o'clock.— The New Virginians.

A Suit Scene From the French Revolution.

EGA LITE shared the fate of the King and Queen. After his death a Mrs Elliott was confined for three weeks in a dungeon, ex expeetiug death at every moment, but her sojurn with the rats and mice was at length relaxed, and she was allowed to mix with the other prisoners. From the Rceol lets at Versailles she was removed to the prison of the Cannes in Paris, where she found many acquaintance, among them Mmc. Beauharnias, Mme. de Custine and her husband, and others The details of her life in this priHon are full of interest. Even in the presence of death they man aged to enjoy themselves, and the dramas of real life played from day to day were at one time a farce, at an other a tragedy. Mine. Bcauhar iiuis (afterward wife of Napoleon) had been on bad terms with and separated from her husband, until one day a fresh prisoner was added to those assembled in the large room of tho prison who turned out to be tbe Marquis de Beauharnais. It was an em barrassing meeting for both husband and wife, who, nnder the circumstances, agreed to be reconciled. The day that Die Marquis de Bcaulioroaia joined tbcm was the one on which the husband of Mmc dc Custine was executed. "1 never saw a scene of more misery than the parting betweea the young couple," says Mrs Elliott. " I really thought olie would have dashed her bruins out, Mme. Beauharnais and I [did not leave her for throe days and nights." But she was young, full! of spirit, and a French woman, and at the cod of six weeks WAt consoled by the attentions of the Mar qui* de Beauharnais ! much to the distress of his wife, who seemed attached to her husband. Mrs Elliot says she did all she could to persuade Eeauharnais to spare his wife's feelings, but lie was not to be con trolled, "lam far from supposing there was anything wronsr in their attachments," she adds." but certainly Beauharnais was more in love than it was possible to des cribe, and the little woman had no objec tions." It was but a brief naradise for Beauharnais, who -was among the next fifty led out to execution. His death was a tragedy for the two miserable women, who clung to him at parting, atid one of whom never emiled after his death. After eighteen months' imprisonment Mrs Elliot was at last. liberated, out during her incarceration she was once so noar the scaffold that her hair was cut|in readiness for her execution. The death of Robespierre wasthesisrnal for her delivery. She remained in Paris after this, moving in the highest circles during the Consulate and the Empire. Napoleon ad mired, and, it is said, made her an offer before he married her friend Mine. Beau harnais. In the year JSOI she returned to England, and was reported by those who knew her to be at the age of thirty-six, more beautiful than ever. It was during this visit to England that <rhe met De Chausenets, whom she had so nobly rescued, and she had the satisfaction of living to see him re-instatod as Governor of the Tuillerics. The remainder of her life was tranquil. She remained in England until the year 1841, when she returned to Franco, where she lived to a good age, and died at Ville Aviay.—Tinslei/s Magazine,

The Death of Napoleon 111.

The death of Nspolean 111, is touchingly related by Mr Jcrrold. It was a peaceful one. He piously received the sacrament of his Church, and died in the arms of his heroic wife. He had not the blessing of a la^t embrace from his idolised son, the son ho was wont pathetically to call ma vie, "my life." On the threshold of his father's death-room, the Empress met the gallant boy, called hastily from Woolwich. All was over then, "Yon are all thi.t is left to me, Loois," she sobbed heartbroken —left to hf r tor six brief years only, and then so die so miserably, and yet so bravely, on the savage fields of Africa, in the morning of a life which might have been so illustrious.

The Night Before the Battle a Waterloo.

SLOWLY, through heavy clouds, came in the morning of Sunday, tho ISth of June. The rain was still descending in toironts, bnt as light iucrea«ed these began to abate; a drizzling shower followed, and that, too, passed away, and ail got under arms— horse, foot, and artillery. From • tuo extreme chill and fatigue o£ such a night, after such a day of marching and retreat ing, hundreds of our men were unable to stir for ,i time, till excitement, and the token.'! ot coming battle, warmed their blood. ■ Some were cleaning their arms, fixing fresh flints, and polish ing their bayonets ; others wore carrying wood, water, and straw from Mont. >St. Jean and adjacent places, ftr me were lighting fires for cooking purposes, whilst a popping fire was heard all over the ground. 'ibis was from men dis charging their damp pieces, as more expe ditious than drawing the charges. The aspect of the sodden and drenched troops was miserable fora time. Our long beards and wet dirty clothing drying upon us wore anything but comfoitublc. As morning advanced, and all were in motion, one might have imagined the y/JioJc plain iisulf to be undergoing a movement. Imagine 70,000 men huddled together. The uuzzing resembling tlie distant roar of the sea against a rocky coast." Masses of white mist were risiim from all sides—from tho Bois do Soignioß, from the swamps, the ryeficlds, and puddles—but as the vapour was exhaled away to mingle with the clouds, the aspect of the scene became more animated, and between nine aud ten O'clock the Duke of Wellington was loudly cheered as he passed nlong the line, mounted on his favourite charger, Copenhagen (long afterwards a pensioner in the quiet pad docks of' Strathfioldsayc). On tliis morn ing he wore a blue froak coat and white buckskin pantaloon?, with Hessian hoots and tassels ; a white cravat, a low cocked hat without a plume, but ornamented with a black cockade f»r Britain, and three smaller for Spain, Portugal, and tlie Neth erlands, lii his right hand lie carried a long field telescope,drawn out and ready for use. tjenernl Alnvn, who joined him from Bj-uk sels, found htm in a tree observing the movements of tbe advancing French. " How are you, Alava !" said he, laughing " Bonaparte shall hoc to-day how a General. of Sepoyn can defend a position !" a remark which 'allowed aliko ln.s contempt for au opinion expressed of him by the Emperor, and a confidence in himself and troops amounting to an assurance of victory.— "British Battles on Laud sind Sea."

Execution at Devizes.

Charles Gerrish was executed at Devizes on Monday for the murder of Stephen Cole man, at the Devizes Union Workhouse. He had throughout shown no sign of com punction nor expressed the least regret for his crime. He ate and slept •well, and seemed wholly indifferent to his fate. The only persons present were the undcr-sheritt, governor, chaplain, and warders.besides the representatives o£ the Press. The culprit: walked firmly to the drop, and appeared, quite unmoved. Marwood arranged the rope, the bolt was drawn, and the body fell a depth of ten feet, death being instan taneous. The black flag was then hoisted. Very few persons were outside. The murder was one of peculiar atrocity, and the witnesses were all of them men between sixty and eighty years of age. It appeared that Gerrish and the deceased who was an. old mau of seventy, had both for some lime previous to the murder been inmate* of the Devizes Union Workhouse. On the day o): muricr Gcrrisjj and the deceased wore sit ting by the tire in tbfc old men's room in the work house, when an altercation took place between them as to the position of a stool before the tire, Gerrish wishing to pull it nearer to the fire and the deceased lo pnll it away. The quarrel was ended by the Ac* ceased man leaving the lire anil sitting down to smoke his pipe at the other side of the room. Thereupon Gerri-h picked np tl.O poker and put it between the bars of the grate, then stood watching it and smoking his pipe for five or six minutes. When the poker was red-hot he drew it out of the fire, walked across the room to the l>cnch whore the deceased was sitting, and delibe rately thrust it into his neck under the left car, completely severing the principal vicn and artery, and penetrating into the wind pipe. Death ensued almost immediately. Gerrish was seized by one of the other pau pers, who, at some personal risk, disarmed him, and held him until assistance was pro cured.

Prince Leopold's Bride.

The Princess Helene of Waldock is going to Paris (o buy her trousscu. H«c ■will pro cure it at establishments patronised by the Queen of Holland, and is to be taken to them incognita by a lady attached to the Dutch Legation. lam told that Queen Emma is showing herself very generous to her sister, who is to stay with her from the time she has done with her Parisian out fitters until she goes to England to be married. The ducal family of PyrmoDt- Waldeck is old, proud, and far from rich. Most of its domestic arrangements have been made oil the needs-must principle. If the portions of the numerous daughters of this house had beeu fairly good, the eldest of them would not now be Queen of Holland. Princess Helene is ufa ro mantic disposition, although something of a bluestocking. Her father's little State is beautifully picturesque and fearfully poverty - stricken. It is a country of liigu hills, wooded glens, and brawl ing streamlets. Prince Leopold met; his future wife at Kupenlieim. Slie is connected with tho Koyal Family oi Eng land through the Duchess of Cambridge and the Princess of Wales, and was highly spoken of by the Grand Duke of. Jjesse- Darmsdadt. He opined that she would be just the person to lead with tin; Prince a quiet, studious life at Clarcmoiil, and he, if: Iris health broke down, a ministering angel to him. A member of an embassy here has told me that the Princess Helene would make an ideal wife for an earnest and chari tibly-disposed English rector. Through tho Nassau family she has some great and. wealthy relations, but she has not Taeca reared in grand style. She is trcs-simplete, fair, trcsh, gentle, and of a cheerful, even temper; and though not very distingue, she is certainly not rustic in her unaffected simplicity.