THE GARDEN.

(By Hobtos).

Calendar of Operations, October 13.

[Hoktus is willing to answer any queries. Cor respondents must give their full names and addresses, though not for publication.]

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

Hki'lantino Large Fiiuit Tkeks (M.R., 1 ai noil).—You say tho trees must give place toi a houso. Then liavo them liftod with as largo a ball as possible; when planted, saturate the soil with water, give a mulching with long straw. It is too late in the season for tins work; 'tho fruit buds are bursting, and I would not be over sanguine oC success, but it might save the troos. Let me know tho re- Kktrenching Soil (J.C., Epsom).-Tho of tenor itround is rotrunchod the better for the crops, or whatever is planted thereom For ordinary garden soils they ought to bo retrenched overy four, five, or six years at least, always bring ing fresh soils to the surface. 1 know that there is an idea prevailing in tho colonies that onoe a piece of ground is trenched it will not irequirotobe trenchod again. 'lhis notion is ..a fallacy. Ido not believe a gardener could tendor such advlee-if so, he has not learned tho llrst principles of his trade. The deeper 'the soil is worked, oven for every crop, the •better the produce. I intend dealing with this subject at some future date, giving the reasons and results of frequent trenching. "Vines (W.G., Whau).-You say that you neglectod to prune last winter. It will not do ■to prune now. Excessive blooding would • ensue, which would bo ruinous. You rust do the bestyoucan by disbudding; that is. simply taking off as many of the young shoots as possible, leaving only such as are required •for bearing.

Kitchen Garden.

Many of tho recently-sown vegetable crops are now up and require thinning, and as they nro in much tho same Htage, tlio utmost amount of activity must do exercised to prevent their suffering. Per manent crops like turnips, carrots, and onions, must bo thinned out before they bocomu crowded and .spoiled, and lettuce, cabbage, and cauliflowers must be trans planted directly they are big enough, for they suffer loss than when allowed to becomo large and drawn before they are moved. The soil between the rows of growing crops should be stirred with tho hoe to keep down weeds, which are now springing up plenti fully on all sides. Tomatoes and vegetable marrows may bo planted out if a hand light can bo spared for their protection ; Otherwise they are best in the frames for the present. Proparo soil for planting out tho main crops at tho end of this month. Sow dwarf French beans for main crops, and scarlet runners. Earth up and stick peas as they come on, as it helps to Keep tho sparrows oft" for n short time. Water all nowly-plauted vegetables. Use plenty of lime to keep slugs in chuck.

Flower Garden.

Continue thinning and transplanting of annuals sown out of doors ; give v good watering when transplanting ; continue •sowing the more tender varieties out in the opu:i ; plant out those which are properly ha.dcncd off in the frames. Tho summer bedding plants ought all to bo planted out now. (iivo them v good watering when the weather is dry, so as to give them a good start before tho dry summersets in. Lawn. —Keep grosd short, roll frequently, look after slugs, ito., as directed last week.

Greenhouse

Attend to airing, potting, pinching, watering, >vc, as directed last wed;.

Maxims,

Tlio semis of iniMt weeds will retain their vitality for a number of year,-, therefore, lake means to destroy them before they are broHght buck into tho garden in thoslwpo of manure. .Salt- and limo will destroy them.

The pores in tho leaves of the plants, by which tlioy transmit moisttiro nnd air, arc exceedingly ininnte, and liable to be choked by oxtKMiiro to dust, especially soot. Deli cate plants should therefore be placed out of the roach of smoke, and if their leaves become soiled they should bo washed.

This Spnklowkr as as Industrial I'i,ast.- It should be generally known that tho sunflower, which has lately boon brought into such notoriety by tho aesthetic school, has considerable claims to attention from an industrial point of view. The seeds afford an excellent oil, which is not only useful as a lubricant for machinery, but is ono of the best of table oils. The seeds again afford admirable food for poultry, the Htalks furnish a good tostilo fibre, and the blossom;) yield a brilliant lasting yellow dye. So highly docs Baron Yon Mullor think of the virtues of tho sunflower that ho includes it in his list of selected plants suitable for acclimatisation and industrial cultivation in the colony of Victoria. Fre quently lifty bushels of seed per acre has been obtained under favourable conditions, und as much as lifty gallons of oil can bo pressed from such a crop. When he states that about six pounds of seed are required to how (in acre, from «Inch such an enor mous return is possible, it is scarcely neces sary to say such return is attained within a few months. The plants, the same authority states, prefer calcareous soil. Baron Yon Midler, however, has not by any means exhausted the list of virtues which the plant*1 possesses. Tho Chinese havo ko far appreciated its properties as to use its fibre in adulterating and dying their silk fabrics, and its oil not only as a lubri cant, but ns an illuminant; also its flowers supply the, best of bee food, and the "cako" left after expressing tho oil is Kupcrior to linseed cake as a food for cattle. Tho leaves are also employed as a substitute for, or for mixing with, tobacco; and as an ingredient in soap manufacture the oil is highly prized.—"Colonies and India." In the face of .- '•h testimony it is interesting to know a small quantity of seed has been imported and distributed by tho Auckland Domain Board, and I shall watch tho experiments with pleasure. Tho Kiinllowcr has been grown with success in many gardens hore for somo years past.

Fruit-Growing. (Continued.)

If thero are only two buds hurst out into shoots, try and induce another two by making a slight incision with a sharp knifo ■tliJßUgh tho bark immediately above Iho bita which you wish to burst. This in cision will stop tho upward flow of sup on that portion of the tree for a time till the wound heals, during which period tho sap is sure to burst the bud into a, shoot. Hero I may mention that by tho same means when ever there are visible buds growth can bo induced on any part of a tree by the above means. Throe or four shoots aro quite sulKcient to begin tho basis of the tree with. If more than four buds burst reduce to four, if the treo is v strong-crowing ono ; if a moderate or weak one, reduce to three. When those shoots have attained a suflicient strength begin tying them outwards from the baso or ccntro of tho tree. This tying out can easily bo accomplished while the shoots are growing—thoy aro then supple and pliable, and will almost tako any form tho trainer wishes them to assume ; tie them so as to give thorn a bold curve, the bolder tho curve the better. This will give tho treo tho appearance of a cup, which is, I believe, the best form for most of the different fruit trees for ordinary orchard to assume. Whenever tho young shoots have attained a length of about from nine inches to a foot, stop them. In stopping those shoots care must be taken so as to pinch back to tho proper buds. This is of importance. When you look at a shoot .you will porceivo that there are a number

of buds all pointing in different directions ; whichever bud you pinch you will push a shoot out in tho direction in which it is pointinc. So therefore stop or pinch to a bud pointing in tho direction which you wish tho new branch to take. A glance of the eye, with practice, ought at once to tell this. After pinching, there may be two or three buds on each shoot burst out. If such bo the case, mid you only want one, when ever the superfluous shoots have obtained a length of about three or four inches, pinch them back, not off, leaving a short stump with two or three buds near the base. These stumps may, with management, bo formed into fruit-bearing spurs. As the new shoots grow, continue tying them out. ihe trees may not require any further pinching this season, but if tho new shoots get too long only allow them about a foot, then pinch again. If the wood made during the sum mer is too strong, give the tree a little root pruning about the end of May. faimply insert tlie spade round the tree, cutting a few roots. If the summer work has been properly performed there will need to be very little rest-pruning—merely cutting oil the ends of the shoots and heading back a few of the spurs which have been left too

In tho second season, very much the same system will need to be gone over again, only as the tree spreads yon will require to de velop more leading shoots ; but only suffi cient of them, .so that in tho future eftch shoot will become a permanent limb of tho tree, ty*g them out as they grow. Onco the lower limbs of a tree get set in this manner, the brandies will always keep this habit. Also during this season overy effort should be put forth to induce early buds to develop into fruiting spurs ; those which break away into shoots should bo pinched back, the small buds at tho base will in time fruit spurs. During this sea son not a single branch should bo allowed to grow but what is wanted for the structure of the permanent tree. Hove I Mould ask, what is the use of growing branches during the summer so as to cut thorn out during the winter? The moro you out in winter tho more growth the next season. In New Zealand wo see overy season a large number of trees which are allowed to grow for two or three years without any pinching or pruning. Now, what is the result of such treatment? There are ft great number of long straggling branches grown, and in a few years these branches get (mite bare at the bottom sometimes for three or four feet—not even a leaf bud, let alone fruit spurs ; a lot of those brandies on each tree, everyone struggling to push its head out to the light. Tho owner, as he occasionally takes a look fit them, grumbles at not receiving much fruit from his trees, and all the time the manner of growing bin trees is incompatible with good crops of fruit. Now, 1 hold the opinion that it is the first three years of a tree's training which will tell in after years, both in habit of tree and its capabilities, as a good cropper. The second season I would riot take any fruit from the tree, even if it showed (lower ; 1 would pick the llowers or fruit oil". (1 will deal with this part of tho subject under the heading of thinning fruit.) When tho second autumn comes round, if the tree has made any rank wood, I would root prune by lifting and transplanting. This will have tho cllbctof curing it of that tendency the following season. (To be Continued.)

A Real "Sentimental" Singer.

Never perhaps in the annals of theatrical "farewell speoches" was one, moro droll Hum that of tho celubruted singor Inclodon, tlie greatest vocalist of hU day, a verbatim copy having boon preserved, and which reads nowadays almost "too good to bo true." It appears that thin marvellous silitf!:r had ono great weakness, that of making lon<? and peculiar speeches in regpoußO ton call, which of course occurred at different theatres throughout the pro vinces, where he was an iinmenso favourite.

In fact, he whs a striking contrast in this respect to otlier old members of the profes sion, romu of them being remarkably brief and abrupt in their speeches and correspon dence. For instance, it is related of Quin and one of tho Cookea that the latter, quarreling with his manager, Quin, betook himself to Bath, and not liking himself there, and wishing to get back to his old quarters in London, wrote the following brief letter to his former manager:— " Dear Quin, —/ am at Bath. —Yourg, &c, "Cooke." To which the other responded :— "DearCooke,— Stay the/candle ! —Yours, &c, "Quin."

Inolodon, on tho otlier hand, was always describing his grievances, ami thrusting forward private details of both his public and private affairs, of which his celebrated farewell address is an instance It was in IS'H v. .._,i ho took his lcavo of tho stago at tho Southampton Theatre. Tho bill an nounced : " Charles Inclcdon, styled by George tho Third the British National Singer, is engaged for this evening only, nnd will sing four of his celebrated songs. In 1874, Incledon made his first appearance on this st«KO, in this town, and the plaudits ho received led the wiiy to tho metropolis, where he maintained a reputution never equalled by any vocalist in former years." The songs which lie sang on this occasion were "Black-eyed Susan," " My Trim Built Wherry," "Tho Storm," "Sally in Our Alley," and "Admiral Benbow." Tho house was full, and what appoared grateful to tho veteran, the boxes were filled with the elite of the town. At tho conclusion of tho performance, Incledon camo smiling forward, nnd delivered tho following re markable address :—

"Ladies and gentleman,—l return my most grateful tlumks for this last mark of your esteem. This glorious assemblage will bo dear to my heart as long as my life remains. This is the eventful ground from which I mndo tho start forty years ago, and tho fostering smiles and cheering plaudits of this refined and ele gant town proved a passport to the motro polis of my native country. In tho proud capital I was hailed with enthusiasm, and tho soveroign pronounced mo the British National Singer. Now evory one present may not know what a national singor moans. A national singer is a man that can sing in every nation. I retire from public lifo with the proud consolation that I never neglected my duty to my patrons. During my long career 1 have reared and educated a largo family, which are a blessing to me. In this arduous task I have been assisted by my darling wives. / have had three. The first was the sainted Jane I tho second, the angel Mart/1! and tho third—still living—the divine Martha!!!" Tho applause thab greeted the name of " tho sainted Jane" was great, but tho "angol Mary's namo elicted tumultuous cheers ; while tho apostrophe to the still living "divine Martha"drew forth such a hurricane of cheers and laughter as had never been heard in that theatre before. Tho mighty singer, wcoping with emotion, concluded in brokpn accents :—" Now—ladies—and gentlemen—tho time has arrived—to bid you—fare—farewell ! Painful—it is—l am —grieved to say—the fatal—but I pronounce —the word—wishing you —and youra— health—prosperity—and many — many — happy—days—farewell!!" Fora real,genuine "SentimontalSpeech," the above must be considered " the best on record,"] |J

TERRIBLE FATALITY IN A LUNATIC ASYLUM.

Six Lives Lost.—Personal Narratives.

(FROM OUR LONDON COBKKSrONDENT.)

A TEMiIBLE disaster, not unliko that which eventuated at the Whau Lunatic Aaylum, Auckland, some years ago, occurred on the 14th inst. at a large private lunatic asylum in ono of the London suburbs. The catas trophe is thus described by a special corres pondent of ono of the London dailies who visited the scene of tke accident on the fol lowing day. Ho says " Dr. Boyd's Asylum at Southall Park, near Baling (about 10 miles from London), was yesterday morning destroyed by fire, the conflagration result ing not only in the total destruction of the building itself, but also of six valuable lives." At the timo of the disaster there were upwards of twenty persons in the building, and, except the six who lio buried under the smoking ruins, all are now accounted for. It would not be easy, in the season of flowers and bright weather, to imagine a more charming spot than the mansion at SouthallPark which was yesterday destroyed by fire. It was a wwoet spot, with its wealth of flowers and foliage, and its strange charm of tranquility. And then to be disturbed in the darkest, stillest hour of night by the most horrible scenes thut humanity can be called upon to endure —the panic of lunatics under the sudden terror of fire ! Sitting in his signal-box, a quarter of a mile off, was Dudden, a night signalman of the Groat Western Railway. About half-past one a train passed, and yet above the rumble of the vibrating rails his ear caught v cry, and ho listened. Again he heard it. The night was still and calm. It sounded liko a cry for help. So after a hurried word with the clerk lie looked out, and there, flashing through the trees, ho saw the flames of the house on firo. He telegraphed at once to Paddington, whence the warning could come back to Hanwcll, and sent over to the middle box —for he could not desert his own post—to rouse the night foreman, and he in his turn,sent the night porter to rouse the village and sound thealannoffiio. Meanwhile in the village two young men, as bravo as men should bo, had heard the screams and were out of bed and off. Tlic.se were J. Abbott and his brother. Arriving at tlio scene, they saw on the roof a woman screaming for help. " Mercy ! mercy I" cried the poor thing; " Help us ! we are being killed," and the flames shot to right and left of her, dazzling her eyes, but lighting up the country all round so that the Fire Brigade, galloping from Hanwell as hard as horses could gallop, say that a mile and a half oil' they could have read a book by the glare of the doomed iiouse. Help, however, was near though sho could not see it, could not hope it. For one of the Abbotts had found a ladder, and was upon the roof, and, seizing the frantic woman," brought her down to tho coping, so to the ladder, and then to the ground. And again and again did tho pluoky follow drag the ladder up to whero the agonised inmates wore screaming for help, and every time he went up ho came down again with another lifo saved. Mean while his brother had gone round to the other side, and, hammering his way through the building, broke in through a door, and came upon his brother hard at work, and joined him in his noble task. Nor were others behind. Mr Webber was tossing sleoplessly in his bed. "I couldn't somehow," said lie, " shut my eyo3, when all of a sudden, about half-past one I take it, I heard a cry for mercy. I took little heed of it, and turned over. But I heard it again. There was no mistaking it this time, for it came ringing across the park liko tho voico of a woman with a murderer's knife at her throat. And I jumped up nnd pulled up the Venetians, and, while I was doing it, the cry came a third time, so clear, so sudden, that I dropped the blind half drawn, and with the scream in my cars, ' Mercy! save us,' I pulled on my boots and trousers, and rushed into my (laughters' room. 'There's murder being done,' I said. ' I'm going to see it,' and started, before over the girls could get me a light. It was as dark as dark could be inside the house, but, getting out, thoro was a glare in the sky, and every nowjjaiid again thcro came a Hash of light that I could not' understand. But then I heard a confused shrieking of voices, and a roaring sound of llame, and I knew what it was. I ran down the street, thinking it was just opposite the Red Lion. But when I got there I heard a voice scream out ' Help ! help !' and then I knew it was up in the park. So I turned and ran again, banged the wooden door open, and there, straight beforo me, were,tho tongues of firo leaping up right above the trees and the wholo park as bright a.s day. 1 crossed thofield, running along under tho chestnuts, till I got to tho house. There were two girls climbing up on the roof. 'For God's sake,' they cried, 'help us.' .lust then a woman, divested of clothing, came running out through tiie garden gate, and her face was set with terror like that of a ghost. 'Run up to tho village nnd get help,' I shouted to her as sho passed, and then sho was gone, and I made my way up to the burning building. The night was perfectly calm, and tho flames were blazing straight up from every part of tho old house at once. I saw no ono about. But I ran to the building, and thoro were three women at a window. I got them out. It's no use ask ing mo how 1 did it, but they were liring human beings, in tho middlo of tho most cruel firo 1 over thought to sco, and all I cured for was to have their bodies out in the garden. Then I saw that I could be but little uso by myself, so I ran back into tho village and cried out ' Fire !' as hard ns I 'could, and waked up ever so many. Then I went back to t;ho park, and there was Mi- Abbott, so I helped him, and we got out fivo more. One was an attendant) of the place, the others were lunatics, and it was dreadful to sco how thoy struggled against being saved. And then I went back to my house, and told my girls to go nnd fetch a doctor as fast as they could, for every ono was cut and burned,,"

Young Mr K. Boyd, the correspondent, says he found lying in bed, his pillows and clothes stained with blood, but his spirits—■ thanks to the education of a Texan life— quite up to tho mark of a man who is going to get better. " I was fast asleep this morning," he said, "when I heard half in dream, half in reality, a confused screaming of voices. I sat up and felt a strange op pression on the lungs. It was no use rub bing my eyes ; tho room was as dark as pitch. But it seomed to me that the air was full of smoke. In an instant—for all this had only taken an instant—l guessod what hod happened, and jumped out of bed. As I pulled on my trousers I remembered my cousin was in the next room, but our doors were fitted with snap locks (so that they could not be opened when once closed without keys), and there was no time to fish about in my pocket for tho keys, so I flung up the window. A terrific glare, that lighted up all the elms in tho meadow, burst on my eyes. I got out of the window, grasped the sill, steadied myself for a minute—and then dropped." What happened after that is best told in the words of Mr Edward Marsh, butcher,

of Southall, who had already, the neighbours stated, been hard at work at different points. " I went up," he said to me, " as soon as,l heard tho outcry, to the\house, and with LukeiCharley got inside, andinto the gallery which joins the main buildingjnow a heap of bricks) with the wings, but the door was locked. It pulled inwards, and whether we forced it or not I cannot tell you. Anyhow we tried our best, and then all of a sudden there swopt down upon us such a draught, such a blast of smoke and lire, that it drove us back. I got out through the front en trance, and hearing screams from the wing, made my way there as fast as I could. But on my way I came upon Mr K. Boyd, who had allowed himself to drop from tho window above, lying, evidently in great pain, and bleeding profusely, in the brick work drain or ' sunk area ' which surrounded that part of tho house. I picked him up and took him to my own house." Mr Marsh appears to have been upon the scene none too soon, ac tho spot whore Mr Boyd was found lying was a few minntes afterwards a heap of flaring ruins. TTT .,,. Dr. Boyd, with his son, Captain " Wilhe Boyd, four daughters, and a nephew, Mr K. Boyd, now, as already stated, lying crippled in an adjoining residence, occupied part of the house, which has for some eighteen years been well known as a private asylum. On the day of the catastrophe two of the daughters were absent at Ascot, and were only telegraphed for after the event had happened. The other two were in the house when the fire broke out. Being awakened by cries, they rushed from their rooms in their nightdresses, and were met by their father, who displayed the utmost presence of mind. Ho led them to the fire escape (which was permanently attached to the west side of the building) and helped them down it, descending himself actually to the lawn. After this Dr. Boyd's move ments are very uncertain. It is beyond doubt, however, that ho was on the lawn with his daughter (sho herself is my author ity), and that he said, " I am afraid they do not understand the real danger," and re returned into the building. It is also cer tain that when Mrs Price (of whom more hereafter) was helping her female patients to escapo—or, rather, forcing them to do so —both Dr. Boyd and his son were close be hind them. That they were both evidently more concerned in saving the liros of others than their own is plain, for, had they chosen, they could then have escaped by the same comparatively easy exit by which Mrs Price saved her own life and those of her charges. But, instead of doing this, they went back (seeing that the west wing was now cleared of its in mates) to look after tho rest of the unhapp> household. Dr. Boyd, moreover, had in his study a quantity of valuable documents and deeds, of which his family knew him to be very careful; and it is feared that, when his other duties seemed to him to be accom plished, the unfortunate gentleman must have passed into his private room for the purpose of saving these papers, and there, with his son, fcave been overwhelmed by the suddenly-falling roof. At any rate, he was never seen again. That his son followed him—anxious, probably, to remain with his father to the last—is only too certain, and he shared his fato.r~*» SS^WTptew But meanwhile the Hanwell, Ealing, and Ealing Dean firo-engines had arrived on the spot, two of them bringing doctors with them. The small reservoir near the house was utterly useless, and it was not till the different companies connected their hose that sufficient length of pipe, some 1,200 feet, could be obtained. Nor even then were the efforts of the brigade of any use. Not all the engines of London, with the Thames to draw upon, could havo saved the building. It was a " tinder-box "—" a wooden shell "—to quote the firemen—and once the flames had caught the house, twenty minutes sufficed to reduce the old mansion to a he&p of ruins. " I never saw such a fierce fire before," said the Captain to mo. "It swept through the lot as if the place was built of shavings." There was still hope, however, of saving life; but who would venture inside the blazing shell to search the ruins ? The venture was sheer suicide, so tho firemen pushed down the outer walls upon the heap, and thus within an hour or so there stood in the place of the pleasant residence a pile of bricks some twelve or fifteen feet high, with a white smoke straggling up through every crevice. The left wing, towards which the fire brigades directed their chief energies, was saved—that is, tho walls still stand, though tho interior is utterly wrecked—but of tho main building, under which six persons lie buried, .there is nothing left but a mound of smouldering bricks and mortar. The building that has been destroyed was, it appears, only insured for some £6,000, and the lossij represented at nearly four times that amount. The family are possessed of considerable private means, the late Dr. Boyd, besides his other property, possessing lands in Ireland, where relatives of tho family reside.

"Jack" and His Money.

It was a saying of William IV.—England's " Sailor King "—that " sailors earned their money like heroes, and spent it like fools j" , and in illustration of the proposition he was fond of relating tho following, which came under his own observation :—On the arrival home of a squadron ha had commanded the ships wore paid off, one at a time, in order, accordingto thedatesof their respectivecom missions; and thus it happpened that one ship's crew might be paitt several days in advance of another. On a certain day William chanced to be on board a frigate, the crew of which had been paid; and while he was there, standing upon the quarter-deck, a boat came alongside from one of the unpaid ships, and a sailor came over the side in quest of a few shillings until such time as he should get his pay. He caught sight of an old quarter-gunner, near the wheel, whom ho know, and to whom ho applied, "Dear old Jack, you know our ship ain't paid off yet, and I've got liberty to go ashore over Sunday ! Will you lend me fifteen shillings till arter I've seen the paymaster?" " In course I will, old mate ! and I'll make it twenty or so." The borrower gladly as sented to the larger sum, whereupon the old quartor-gunner, or gunner'smate, dived his hand into kin money-bag—a canvas shot-bag—and pulled out a handful of silver. He had counted eight or ten shil lings when he lost his reckoning, and com menced again, and again he got mixed up in his count. A third time he went at it, and had got as far as twelve shillings, when Bon, the borrower, cried— ■" Hold on Jack ; you've let half-a-crown slip in for ashilling." Whereupon, in disgust, Jack plunged iris hand into the bag^ and drew forth as much silver as he could easily grasp, saying heartily to his old friend—" There, Ben what's the use of botherin1?" Jest you givo me back a handful o' siller when your ship's paid and we'll be square !"

When it rains, if she gets all the umbrella, he means to propose, but hasn't done so yet; if she gets the larger share, they're engaged ; if it's about equal, they're on their honeymoon ; if ho has the larger share, the first baby's born ; and, if he has the whole umbrella, the baby's twins.

THE ASSASSINATION OF CAREY.

m-~"'££r*-.\

(FKOM OUK LOXUOX COBKESPOSD is , V- \

A new doubt is cast over the charij" the murder of James Carey, theftpl former, by the particulars *jllg§ reached us from South Africa rogarft,-^. preliminary examination of the ZP When the first tidings arrived it J^ probable, and, indeed, almost certain the malefactor, O'Donnell, was an J* of the Fenian League, commissbneSP the man who had -been in«MS# in bringing Brady and hiTS* m crime to justice. This 3» by the or gail **V in Ireland and America sympatfieoW^ (testable fraternity of bloodshed «S lion O'Donnell was approprM^ people as their chosen instrumrf^ geanco, and in the Trans-Atlant q;M "Jf more than one dynamite nS affected to knowhow itwasallarranS? impression in official and police S«! of the same nature, and the authorifi> Dublin renewed their prewutSN ■uresas though expectingtha(TLS of so bold and desperate ab W^ under the very shield of the W "^ nerve the villains of the WneVS enterprises of violence But H,»jW broughthome by the Cape mail, jSs?S makes this appear at least dubious «$ shown," says a writer in the lM ' Telegraph "that Carey, under his S ling name of Power, and O'Donaellvo^ m perfect amity together as MlS^ sengersalltheway^Cape^S^ latter had booked to that port, buTLJ? ing to his subsequent statement^ '■■ further passage to Natal immediate?*!! arriving at the Cape, because he heaffi """SB «ere bad there," andtov might do better 'further along.' Of 25 ?: all this might also be partof the pi rtS murderer might have wanted cour^V opportunity during the earlier Z? Burns, the forecabin steward, h2 testifies that two days before the S while the Kinfauns Castle «*& anchor he wao reading a numfift. the 'Cape Argus' which they had rS in harbour ODonnell sitting besidM' Sudjlenly his eye lighted on a^Sfe stating that Carey had been> pJEgr the Ivmfauns Castle. Then hiloiSs1 1 I showed it to Mr Leonard, who Mtai ■ me the paper saying, ' Did you sa^X: the paper about Carey, the ioCer* He said, 'Jmo; what is that?' Irenifc paragraph to him O'DonneU exclMnS' It 1 iiad known he was on board of to ship, I would have ' swung 'for him M j& looked awfully excited, andtrirnsd pale® the face. I saw how excited Wwasandf changed the subject immediately; Mt' O'Donnell was an abstemious.man". -ffi| told a passenger, who told me, that he <xM not drink because he had suffered fromsai.''' stroke, and if he drank he didnotknbwtlif he was doing. The morning afterl rewltS* paper he came and had a bottle of itimM then asked him why heinquiredabont^^ and he # said he wished to treathimasafiiflgtt This was about one o'clock, and hiijJV transferred to the Melrose abouttwo o'djS? Whether the murderer engaged his paaij'i after or before this in the MelroM'iswljP doubtful, but it seems that tie uifflrt*'; local paragraph first led himtoMS^'f 'Power' with James Carey; and a abrupt exclamation appears [&jJSH| the assassin as a Fenian in h6U^ I'^ fanatic nature, wlio suddenly fonadlfit self side by Fide with the man whota l|4r tested by hearsay, and then aa^Bß yielded to a furious passion of Tindictnt1' nes.s, increased by the drink whidi hiifiif: could not withstand. " What follows is clear enougt wjffl| the resolution was only formed wW«!IS> steamer was lying in Table Bay, bi wtgmi tiie criminal had all along designed tWHSi^ heat once armed himself with a rev^jfei and waited for the first chance, flap arrived when the Melrose was Or.eda^H between ports. Carey, with other fon. cabin passengers, was between decks, aKifr. 3.40 p.m on Sunday, July 29, vrhenO'te nell, without any warning, drew hffijfflH and fired a shot into the informirt'iiKlES The miserable victim turned, ara^ffl to escape, upon which the muraortr'^ll charged two more bullets into hi? bsi, causing him to fall in a dying coMiaiii! The boatswain, Charles -Tones, who *oi^ revolver from O'Donnell's pocketafMj3|i'' deed, gives us proof that the man iraj'jiY half-frenzied or bemuddled'state of BBJJi for he heard him say to Mrs Carey; 'J5Se hands; 1 did not do it.' This, adiMHtji the poor woman, whose armS;jMHH actually around her bleeding losbudt' would be a senseless and unludtjjWßHj tion to come from a hired assassinl; *wfe other passenger dejxises that he, 1:op, hfiliraj O'Donnell remark at dinner-time uit?|t should not leave the ship,' which B^ indeed, have signified that he hud detsr mined upon the crime, and expectoi]te made a prisoner. Carey lingered^ in ,^' seems, for about half or three-qu»rtHjJ| an hour, and expired |without havi^j^K able to utter a word. O'DonneU'8 t »i|| quent anxiety that his female comjaiaM should be looked after and cared foriffli show that the voyage was, as we h*iS|!B ono of simple emigration at i&'|H| Altogether tlie facts thus far revealw J|i we think, to indicate that, howe^|^ffi placent and noisy the evil rejoi^nW the Irish and American Fenians h»j^H over the murder, they did not P^-raH had no expectation of what was g§ffil happen. All the evidence to hand si|||| prove that the reading of that untofijgg piece of gossip in the Cape newspap^P this wretched malefactor the' first idM tion about Carey, and that he $IH| sudden and irresistible passion to tMH informer's life. ~„. " If we may expect to find inO'Donfil now seems probable, a desperate, in>Ea| andbitter-minded malcontent, wjioseiffl brain and rancorous heart were h6tfl| against a chance of notoriety and verigw| that is a great deal better than t°.j||fi recognise in him the type of an aw§| against whom society can have no safejfie because fear and self-preservation li^ place in his nature. It is on^this'a^w that we are inclined to welcome theJ|§ from the Cape, since they do appear »w that the murderous braggadocio of Antf|| and Irish Fenians was all just as fe^al was ferocious, and that the savage im slaughter committed on board. the Urn was really as great a surprise to the .fl ruffians of Dublin or Philadelphia as m authorities at home and thß worl|| general." ■ 'i-h'llb

Some of our seaside nymphs (bless the»,4'£ arousing this year for parasols Japjwe»' r umbrellas, coated with a dazzling gla^ " When the dear creatures lay these cmjHM| inventions over their shoulders, and twin;.] them carelessly about, the "sun's raysara sent frolicking into the eyes of everyway^ within a pood many yards, and the effect," ■■. not exactly pleasing, is very ost&mdiingffl The small boy with a piece of lookmg-gijH is suspected of the trick; but, for on«H the small boy is innocent.

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, OCTOBER 13, 188 S.

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