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FAMOUS TRIALS.
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!-ALL BIGHTS RESERVED.] FAMOUS TRIALS. CHARLOTTE WiNSOR FOR CHILD MURDER. Last week a trial which occurred close upon 30 years a.go, and excited an enormous amount of public interest at the time, was brought to the recollection of very many persons—and, doubtless, very many of our readers—by the statement that at the present moment there is in Woking Female Convict Prison a woman who will shortly complete her thirtieth year of imprisonment. Her name is Charlotte Winsor, and she was convicted in the early p^rt of 1865 of baby farming, for which she was sentenced to penal ser- vitude for life, but, unliko the great majority of "life" convicts, it has noc been considered fit, by successive Home Secretaries, owing to the nature of the. crime, to recommend her to mercy. It is appropriate under the oircuinsfcanoes that the history of the woman and her crime should just now find a place in our gallery of famous trials. At Easter Assizes in the year named Mary Jane Harris, aged 23, and Charlotte Winsor, aged 45, were placed at the bar on a charge of having murdered Thomas Edward Gibson Harris, on the 14th of February, at Torquay. The prisoners were not called upon to plead, as they had been tried on this charge at the preceding assizes before Baron. Channel!. The jury were looked up on that occasion for several hours, but at twelve o'clock on a Saturday night, as they declared there was no chance of their agreeing upon a verdict, the learned baron, discharged them, but ordered the prisoner, to be detained in cus- tody to be again tried at the next assizes. Mr. Justice Keating presided, and, all parties being agreed, it was resolved that the prisoner Harris, whose child the murdered infant was, should give evidence. Her story, which was of the most extraordinary character, was as follows: "In February last I was a serrant at Mrs. Wansev's. I went there on the 12th of December last. Before this I had lived thirteen weeks with Mrs. Gibson. I went to Mrs. Gibson's and was confined at her house on the 16th of October. I had the child registered as Thomas Edward Gibson Harris. It was a. fine child. On the 12th of December the prisoner called on me, and we took the child to the prisoner's, having on the 10th of December made an arrangement with her to take care of it. I had previously been to two other persons to ask them to take care of it. It had three short frocks, two long ones, three shifts, two white petti- coats, two flannel petticoats, and one pair of white socks. It had nothing for its head. I saw the child four times while it was at the prisoner's. As we were taking the child to the prisoner I said there had been one child picked up in the country. The prisoner said, 'I wonder I have not got myself into it once .L before.' She had put one away for a girl who had been confined at her house, who had promised to give her £31 but she did not give it to her. I asked bipi- how she did it. She said she pub her finger under the jugular vein. She said she had stifled one three weeks old for Elizabeth Darwin, and thrown it into Tor Bay,and when it was picked up it was nearly washed all to pieces. -She also said that she had put away one for her sister Poory, as her sister said she would give her j34. While her sister was staying at the house she directed a letter to be left at. the Jolly Sailor for the father cf the child, and she received a R,5 note by return of post. She said she only gave her £ 2. but said that when her husband returned from sea she would make her a handsome present; but she had not done it. I then went dr. with her to her house, and had tea. I asked her if she was not afraid. She said, 'To with you it's doing good.' and she would help anyone that would never split upon her. I was leaving, and she said, 'I'll do whatever lies in my power for your child.' I said, 'All right,' and went away. I saw my child a fortnight after in Mrs. Wansey's kitchen. The prisoner brought it. She said if I wo a Id give her £ 5 she would do away with the child. I said I had not got £ 5 to give her. She asked me to give her a note to the father of the child. I said I could not do that. She said, 'Get it anyhow else: I'll put them all by for thee if thee hast 40.' I said I should not do any such thing. She said she did, and I could do the same. The prisoner was there better than half an hour. She then went away. On Sunday, February 5, I saw the child at the prisoner's. I got there about half-past seven they were in bed. I knocked at the bedroom window. She said, 'Is that Mary?' I said, 'Yes; I want to come in and see my She sail, 'My husband will let you In; and he let me in. I went into her bed- room the child was in bed with her. She said, 'I've made it all right with my hus- ba-ii d-I shan't keep the child after the quarter.' She said if I would give her the £ 5 she would do away with the chi'.d, and asked if I would come over one day in the week and take away the chiid. I said she might if she liked. I asked her how she could do it. She said she could get something at the chemist's. On the 8th of February I asked leave to go out, but I went out on the fith to the prisoner's, and got there at half-past three. The baby was tied in the chair, and the grand-daughter playing with it. Tin prisoner was sitting on a, stool. After talking a little time she sent the little girl out. After she was gone the prisoner said -sh> did not do it before I came out, because if I told on her I must tell on myself, for one would be as bad as the other. I said I would never tell if we tvere 1 never found out. She asked me if she shoiiid do it. I asked her how she would do it. She said, 'Put it between the bed- Swri> She then took the child into the 8 ii Pratt s bedroom. I did not go. She stayed ten minutes; she then came back without the baby. She asked me to look In; she said it would soon die. I looked in and saw the bed made. but no child. The dllld did not cry. The prisoner's husband came m and asked, 'Where's the bov ?' She said her aunt had been in arid taken it away. He said, Oh She brought him a pail, and he fastened the handle. I asked him where ,Tas going with the pail. He said, 'Up I tile wood. Ha went away, and the pri- soner said to me, Did you hear the child r 1 said, 'No.' She said, 'I did, and i was afraid my husband would hear it.' The girl Pratt came back again and stayed a -short time, but was sent out again by the prisoner to fetch some buns. The girl went out, and the prisoner said she must make haste, as her girl would soon be back. She went out of the room and came back with the "aby. It was dead. She undressed it, and ie went into the bedroom and opened a box. took out the things it contained. She gapped up the child in newspapers, and then put into the box. I put down lid, and she locked it, and PUt the key into her pocket. Pratt: came oome, and the prisoner told her that Mary's aunt had been and taken away lit ile Tommy, and put red socks on it. I had given her a Piece of carpet, which is the one in which the child was found. I then made an engage- ment to meet the prisoner on the 14th at the Clarence Hotel, to sjo over around Paignton ^ith the child. I did not meet her. I saw' her on the 15th a t Mrs. Swansev's. She came there with her little girl. She had a basket, ^he said, 'You did not come out last night.' s.a.id, 'No.' She said, '1STever mind.; let have 4s. to take it up to Exeter.' I said I had not 4s. She said I might draw from my mistress. I went to Mrs. Wansey, who gave me Is. 6d. I gave it to the prisoner, and isaid I could not get any more. The prisoner said she would send up the next day for the rest, and she did send, but I had not the 2s. 6d. On the next Sunday I went to Mrs. Gibson's and had some conversation with her, and then I went to the prisoner's house. She said, 'Oh, it's you, Marv.' I said, 'Yes,' She said she had just come home. I said, 'There has been a child picked up, between, three and four months old.' She said, 'Yes; they tell me Government will take it in hand." I said, 'So they ought." We went into the bedroom. She said, 'I've got you under the rabbit-box.' I said, 'Have you, really r' She said, 'Yes, I have." I said, 'Mrs. Gibson has dreamt it was mine, and that you have killed it, and I am going to be hung for it.' She 9 1, said, 'Oh, nonsense, don't let her get any- thing out of you." I asked her agl1Ïn if she had it, and she said, 'Yes, I have, upon my soul. She said she was going away to- morrow, if I had not come, as she had re- ceived a letter from Plymouth enclosing an order for £ 3 from a girl she had done it for before, asking her if she could take her in again for R-4, as she was looking to be con- fined soon. She had sent back to say she would not, as if she had been honest she would have paid in the first place. She could not go in the train with my child, be- cause there was "such an air with it,' but she should take it out on the moor. On the Wednesday I was apprehended. On the Friday she came to me at the station, and she made a sign round her throat. In the gaol I asked her if she had seen the child. She said, 'Yes.' I asked if it wa.s my child; she said she could hardly tell, it had been dead so long, but I was not going to hang her. Coming up in the train I asked her if it was my child. She said, 'I rather think it is.' I said, 'Did you carry the child there?' She said, 'I did not.' I said, 'Who could have done it, then?' She said, 'That's a mystery.' I said, 'You know you were there; the little girl said you were.' She said, 'Yes, I was. I went to show her where you lived. L I saw her again in the gaol, and I asked her if she did carry my child there, and she said, 'I did. In cross-examination the girl was pressed very severely on cue point, respecting which she admitted that the conversation respecting the murdering of children took place as they were going to her house, and yet she left her child with her, and wished it to live. "Far- mer Nicholls, the father of the child," she added, "allowed me something for the child, but not after it went to the prisoner's. I had had a few words with Nicholls, and had had 3s. 6d. a week for a previous child. I had known Nicholls seven years. I never had but those two children. I never took anything to procure abortion. The inter- oourtse was carried on for six years and a half. Although the prisoner told me of so many murders, yet I trusted my child with her when the other refused to take it. I did not go into the bedroom to prevent its being killed, as she had filled! my mind up, and I was led away by her. I used to go to church, but not after this had occurred. My conscience has induced me to speak the truth. I do not expect to be pardoned. I don't know what is to be done with me." The witness gave her evidence with great calmness, but her statement created the greatest sensation in a very crowded court. The prisoner sobbed bitterly when Mr. Carter stated that he should call Harris, and was detailing some of the facts of the evi- dence she would give. It evidently took her by the greatest surprise. The medical evidence went to show that the symptoms exhibited in the child picked up were consistent with death having been caused by either exposure to cold or suffoca- tion. In either case the symptoms would be much alike. Mr. Folkard addressed the jury in defence of the prisoner Winsor, contending that it had not been clearly proved that the child found was the child of the woman Harris. The body, if murdered when Harris said it was, would have been decomposed when found seven days after. The body found was not decomposed in the least. This, he thought, proved beyond doubt that the child found Nya; not the child of Harris. He thought the evidence of Harris should not be taken as truth, uncorroborated as it was in any particular, he also commented upon the absence of motive on the part of Winsor, contending that she had a direct interest in keeping it alive, as she would then receive 3s. 6d. per week for its keep. It had not been proved that any amount of money, beyond Is. 6d., had been given by Harris; to the prisoner. He suggested whether Harris had not taken the child away from Winsor's, and whethor she did not tell the prisoner that she was going to take it to her aunt's on the moor. His lordship summed up the case very minutely. He said the jury should not be- lieve the evidence of an accomplice except that evidence was corroborated in some material particular. That the witness liarris stood in the light of an accomplice was be- yond all doubt, and seldom had ears heard more hideous revelations than those made in the box by Harris the day before. She had placed herself before them as the mur- derer of her child, and could the facts she stated have been proved by independent wit- nesses, undoubtedly she would have stood in the same position as the prisoner at the bar. Notwithstanding the taint that attached to Harris, if they thought her evidence was materially corroborated, they must find the prisoner guilty. His lordship then read over the evidence to the jury very minutely, draw- ing their attention to the parts which parti- cularly bore against the prisoner. His summing-up occupied two hours. The jury retired, and after an hour and a half's absence found the prisoner guilty. His lordship then assumed the black cap, and passed sentence of death upon the pri- soner, cautioning her not to hope for any mercy, but to prepare her soul for death. The prisoner cried convulsively during the passing of the sentence. The execution of this sentence was after- wards respited by order of the Secretary of State, a doubt having been raised as to the validity of the trial, on the ground that the prisoner had been on a former occasion put on her trial for the same offence, but the jury, being unable to agree, were discharged, and the. prisoner was remanded to custody. Upon this technical objection, which appears to have been regarded as of some importance in high quarters, the execution of the sentence was respited until the opinion of the judges could be taken upon the question. In the end a reprieve was granted, and the sentence commuted to penal servitude for life, and it is stated that Winsor, who is now an old woman of 75, is so used to confinement that she hardly seems to care for the thought of freedom,
HEAVY FAILURE.
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HEAVY FAILURE. Evesham Solicitors' Liabilities are Over £ 300,000. The greatest consternation prevails through- out Worcestershire and Warwickshire owing to the failure of Messrs. New, Prance, and Garrard, solicitors, of Evesham, whose liabilities amount to over £ 300,000. The firm's business partook largely of the nature of a private bank, and many farmers have invested the whole of their savings. It is thought that the collapse will entail great privation to many, and some sensational revela- tions are expected. II
Advertising
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BOEWICK'S BAEINCT POWDER. Best Baking Powder I BOBWICK'S BAKING POWDER. in the World. BOUWICK'S BAKING POWDER. Wholesome, BOBWICK'S BAKING POWDEB. Pure, and BOBWICK'S BAKING POWDER Free from Alum. Lol261
PRISON LIFE IN SOUTH WALES.
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PRISON LIFE IN SOUTH WALES. --+-- ARTICLE I. I have undertaken to write a series or arti- cles giving my experience as a. prisoner in Cardiff and Swansea Gaols, and a day and night in Cardiff police cells. I am not going to enter into the merits or demerits of the charges that were brought against me and through which I am in a position (unfortu- nately for myself) to give some details as to the treatment of prisoners in the lower bran- ches of criminology. Suffice it to say that a few days prior to being deprived of my liberty I was made aware of the fact tLat an appli- return. I little thought as I left the house that morning that I was leaving it for tl e last time, and that eleven months would pass by before I would have the happiness of seeing my wife and children again. I accompanied the officer to the central police-station;. On entering the detective handed the warrant to the officer in charge, who read it over, and, in a somewhat gruff voice, asked, "What is your name?" I in- formed him that I was the person referred to in the warrant. This answer seemed to dis- please him, and in a peremptory tone he ex- cation for a warrant for my arrest was about to be made. I was, therefore, naturally in a very disturbed state of mind, and waited events with much trepidation. It was shortly after eight o'clock on a Monday morning early in the year 1893 when the cloud burst, and I shall never forget that morning. I was sitting down at breakfast, and my children were busily preparing themselves for school when I heard a knock at the door. My wife answered the summons, and I heard a gentle- man inquire if he could speak to me. My wife told him he could, and she asked him to take a seat in the parlour. Then she came and informed me that I was wanted, and I saw from the agitated look on her face that something was wrong. I immediately got up from my breakfast and went to see my early visitor. After the usual good morning, he inquired if I was Mr. I told lorn I was, and he then informed me that he was a detective officer, and had a very painful duty to perform. A warrant had been placed in his hands for my arrest, which he produced, and read over to me. Having finished the reading, he then informed me that I must now consider myself his prisoner, but he would allow me to finish my breakfast and make any arrangements I might wish. I sat down to finish my breakfast, but my appetite for food had gone. I then rose, wished my wife and children "Good morning," and told them not to be down-hearted, as I would soon claimed, "I am not asking you what is in the warrant; it's your name I am asking for." While I had every desire to be civil as long as I was properly treated, I was deter- mined not to be in any way brow-beaten, and refused to answer him any further ques- tions. The detective officer came to my rescue and supplied all the information de- sired. I was then asked to empty the con- tents of my pockets on to the counter, and I did so. An inventory was then taken of all the articles, and I was handed over to the officer in charge of the cells, whose kindly face and gentle treatment formed a marked Which he produced to read over to me. I contrast to those of the officer I had had my first brush with. I was placed in what I afterwards learned was the best cell at the disposal of the gaoler. It was what might be called the centre cell, the floor being covered with sawdust 'as a. substitute for a, carpet, I presumed). On the side was fixed a wooden. bed with a fixed wooden pillow. The bed was about 6ft. long and 3ft. high. In the oeu ere of the cell door was a hole about 9in. square that could be opened or shut from the outside. This was used for the purpose of handing anything to the prisoner without opening the door. Having now been left to myself, I sat down on the wooden bed (the only seat in the cell) to think of the awful position in which I was placed, and how I was to extricate myself. I was soon awakened from my gloomy meditations by a bustle of feet in the corridors and the turning of keys. I afterwards learned that the prisoners were all being got ready to ap- pear before the magistrates, where they would take their seats at eleven o'clock. By means of the square hole in my cellar door (which had been left open) I could see and hear all that was going on. Everything having be- come quiet, I again sat down on my wooden bed with my head placed- against the doer. I had not occupied this position long when two men came along the corridor. One of them stopped close to my cell door, the other moved a little further on and opened a cell. He then brought a man down and made him stand close to the other and against my cell door. A conversation then ensued regarding a cer- tain robbery that had taken place, and it was quite evident that those in the corridors were not aware of my presence in the cell, otherwise they would have been more cautious. The prisoner would not answer any questions, and he either could not give the information de- sired or would not split on his 'pais." The last words the officers used to the prisor-tr were not of a very consoling character, bet I am able to say that when he was taktn before the magistrates he was acquitted. The court was soon open, the magistrates having taken their seats on the bench. Then the prisoners, male and female, were crushed on to a little stairway leading from the cells to the court to be ready when their names were called. I will have more to say about this stairway in my next article. In due time the court was over and the prison van had taken away all the prisoners except, myself. The officer under whose charge I was placed was ready to do anything he could to make my unfortunate position as comfortable as possible. He supplied me with the evening papers, which I was busy reading when another prisoner was brought in and, for company's sake, placed in the cell with me. He was a young man respectably dressed, who had com- mitted a felony in Cardiff, arid managed to elude the police for two weeks. He was apprehended in Exeter, and brought that day to Cardiff. Drink had been the cause of his misfortune. He was in a great state of fear, his trouble being- that his arrest should become known to his parents, who it seemed were respectable business people, and resided a few miles outside Cardiff. His only hope that they would be oblivious of his position was that he was unknown to the police, and had given a fictitious name. A change of officers took place shortly after six p.m., and I found the night officer in charge of the prisoners quite as ready to GO anything in his power for the comfort of the prisoners under his charge as the day man was. I may here say that while two such officers have charge of the prisoners in the Central Police-station the public may rest samsfied that the cruel treatment of poor un- fortunate creatures who have given way to crime that we hear of from time to time taking place in police cells throughout the country will never take place in Cardiff. About eight p.m. I and my fellow prisoner were taken out and placed in a large room along with some other men, and a. woman was brought in and asked if she could identify the man she wished to charge. She had no hesitation in picking out her man, who was my fellow prisoner. He was also picked out by two other people, and we were then put back into our cell and supplied with a rug each. Sleep, however, would not oome to me, and I walked up and down the cell, varying this exercise by sometimes sitting down on the bed. About eleven o'clock on the first evening another prisoner was brought in. He seemed to be an old stager, as I heard him asking the officer for a rug. He was followed by a poor little boy about eight years old, who was cry- ing bitterly. The lad had neither shoes nor stockings on his feet, nor a cap on his head. I was placed in what I afterwards learned was the best oell. The officer was exceedingly kind and gentle to him, but was unable to get him to refrain from crying until the next prisoner was brought in. This was a little girl, as poorly dressed as the boy. They were both put into a comfortable room until their parents were communicated with. The first to be claimed was the girl, and when she was taken away the poor little boy broke down again. I was glad when the officer came down and took him away, his father having turned up and claimed him. During the early hours two more prisoners-a. male and a female-were brought in, and the latter screamed, shouted, and swore until she dropped off to sleep. Another young woman was brought in almost naked, but some of her friends had followed up with her clothes, which were handed in to her. At six o'clock the day officer was again on duty, and in order that I might get freshened up I was taken out of the cell and allowed to have a wash before breakfast. About nine o'clock the police van arrived from the prison with a batch of prisoners who had been re- manded from previous courts. All the male prisoners were then taken out of their cells and placed in a large room to wait until the magistrates had taken their seats. A general conversation was kept up amongst the pri- soners, and my attention was particularly at- tracted to one man who had been remanded from a previous court for assault and robbery. He was confident that the case against him would break down. I saw this man several times afterwards in prison on remand for simi- lar offences, and I subsequently discovered how he always managed to escape punishment. It ippeared that three or four men always went about together victimising sailors who had been decoyed away by poor, unfortunate women into some quiet street. When a favourable opportunity presented itself, the sailor was throttled by these scoundrels and robbed. If one of them was caught (as was the case with this man) the sailor would go with the police and make a charge at the police-station. "Jack," however, would be closely followed by some of the prisoners' "pals," dressed up as seamen, and as soon as the sailor left the police-station he would be accosted by one or two of these "land sharks." They would open out a con- versation, and pretend to sympathise with him in the loss he had sustained, and would tell him that the same thing happened to them. In order to prove that their sympathy is "practi- cal they would take 'the sailor into some public-house and a drink would be given to him. They would then tell him of the diffi- oulties he would have to go through if he per- sisted in the charge and appeared before the magistrates, as he would not be able to take a ship until the quarter sessions or assizes were over. They would wind up by advising him to put up with the loss, get a ship, and leave the town as quickly and as quietly as possible. Theu they would hand him, say, 5s. (out of. his own money) to help him out of the town. When the case is brought before the magis trates the prosecutor fails to put in an ap- pearance, and the magistrates might remand the prisoner for a week to give the police. an opportunity for finding the prosecutor-a thing they very seldom are able to do. the result being that the prisoner would re-gain his liberty. They open out a conversation with him (pre- tend to sympathise with him). At eleven o'clock the magistrates had again taken their seats on the bench, and the first inquiry made amongst the prisoners was "Is Doctor Paine present?" On being told that the Doctor was on the bench, the old stagers showed a little uneasiness. One woman was anxious about the fate of the first prisoner, as she believed it was a lucky sign if the first prisoner was acquitted. Her mind was soon set at rest, as the first one brought forward was acquitted, but I don't think she will'again be lieve in fate, as she was sentenced to one month. My turn had now arrived. I was placed at the bar, but my case lasted only a few minutes, and I was re- manded for a week. I was again placed in the same room with all the male prisoners who had either been remanded or sentenced. My fellow-prisoner of the previous day was quite satisfied, with the sentence of two months that he had got. About four o'clock an officer came into the room and informed us that her Majesty's carriage was now ready to take us for a drive, and we were taken out singly and I placed in little square boxes, in rows along the side of the van—the men on one side and the women on the other. The officer iif charge of the van having satisfied himself that h £ had got all his prisoners a start was made for the gaol. As we started we heard shouting on all sides of the van, such as "uii"r up, Jack," "Cheer up, Nellie," "How long have you got, Mary?" and so forth. After the outside friends of the inside passengers had stopped following the van, snatches of all the popular songs of the day were sung by the prisoners. One man who had got tliree months favoured the company with a song, in which the chorus was:- "Three months in gaol you know I'll have to stop For kicking up row in M'G-inty's corner shop." All the prisoners joined in the chorus, and thus we amused ourselves until the van had en- tered within the gloomy walls of Cardiff Gaol. The female prisoners were discharged from the van as soon as we entered the gates, while the men were driven up to the top of the yard, where the male reception room IS. The pri- sqgers were placed in a row, each one answered to his name as it was called, and the term of imprisonment was read over. This ceremony having been completed, the prisoners were now handed over to the gaol officials. The modern equivalent for "calling" up spirits from the vasty deep" is talking over the telephone. Exchange is your Sibyl; you stand on your given point and howl to her, out in the void somewhere, "Are you there?" "Are you there, Exchange? Give me. 9991" And she does it--so. many and a few more ior luck and good measure. She pulls a myste- rious plug out somewhere, and suddenly you. are launched into a place of giant whispers1, the rustle of innumerable wings, the hiss and rattle of gigantic serpents, the snapping and roaring of a vast and distant forest fire, and around and about in this vortex are borne rhe wailful spirits of the lost, who speak you foul or fair as they whirl past. First comes the soul of a, little man with a. voice like a landrail, who, when you interrogate it, wails back, "I don't want you. Oh, I don't want" you. I never asked for you!" You are inclined to tell the uncivil spook that his remarks are mutual, when he is swept on, and you hear a, woman crying in a little thin dry shriek some\vhere on the distant borders of purgatory, "Why don't you send, up those plumbers—say ? The heater won't j work and we're all freezing." It's evident from her anxious request that she's not iri the orthodox kind of limbo; but her shrieking is interrupted by "the voice of a woman wailing ve for her lover." "Fred, oh, Fred, where are you, dear? I had you a moment ago; but now they've cut us off, they've cut us off,' they've cut -1 The voice of the little ghost dies in a wail, and thn two are swept past, driven, through the i in an eternal (verbal) embrace. Whtui she talks there is an odd little sound like churr-r, hur-r-r in the concern, which you to be a giggle, and you feel mad. She him. in her faiiii and. muffled tones, that. he is too mean to live, and awfully hateful, that she just despises him; to all of which lie answers "Aw now, and "Hey, what's that, eh ?" which is evidently, accepted as a witticism, for the little ohurr-r-8 sound always follows it. Meantime a chorus of the lost, who are like the sands of the sea for number, and, apparently U in great, trouble and torment, are crying out., in all keys for- "Exchange, central, oh, Ex* change," accompanied by exclamations mora. lu Black Maria. J of an emphatic than a polite character; and demanding every number from one to a thousand. Suddenly and' strangely the sounds all cease, and out of the silence a big, accusing voice demands, "Who are you, anyhow ?-' Startled into forgetfulness of your own you are slow in replying, and before you can do so pandemonium breaks loose again. "Exchange!" "Hello there!" "Ninety-three! "Who!" "\Vh;¡,?! "Whajjer say ?" "Nope "Yep!" "Gimme sixty!" "I don't wan| twenty!" "Where the Oh Exchanger. Exchange, Exchange, why don't you attend .< Exchange!" All interspersed with aursts of goblin laughter, sighs, and faint-drawn cries. And you hang up the tubes and walk a couple of miles to see the man you were trying talk to.
THE ENCORE NUISANCE.
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THE ENCORE NUISANCE. An Italian impressario has (says the Daily News) discovered a way out of the encore difficulty that is not open to the objections made by Mr. Hermann Vezin's proposal that they should be forbidden by the public authorities. The impressario in question control% a small operatic theatre in Milan, and he has absolutely forbidden his singers to repeat any of their songs; but, at the same time, he has placed the following notice in the vestibules Those persons who wish for a repetition of any num- bers from the opera, or of any part of the ballet- dancing, are begged to band in their names at the box-office. At the end of the performance they will enjoy the encores demanded on paying for their seats over Since this measure was first adopted no one has availed himself of the privilege thus granted, and the performances have not been interrupted by persist ent demands for encores.
THE CHEQUE BANK.
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THE CHEQUE BANK. Encouraged by the great success which has attended the operations of the Cheque Bank within the last few months, the directors hare taken a very bold step, viz., that of issuing a; cheque for transmission abroad for any amount for the sum of one penny. This will be a great boon in commercial circles, as very large sums of money are transmitted abroad every day by post-office orders, a system which is found to be both expensive and risky. These foreign cheques at the special rate can only be obtained at the London offices. The business of the Cheque Bank is rapidly ex. tending, a very satisfactory feature being the amount of money sent in on deposit. The repeated failures of building societies and kindred institutions have induced people with limited means to avail themselves of the absolute safety of this bank.
[No title]
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
By authority of the Supreme Government, passenger fares and freights for goods ana luggage will be collected from the 1st of March on the Chilian section, with an extra charge of 25 per cent., notice of which is given to the public in conformity with the stipulations in Art. 51 of the Police Law of Railways. It is understood that the authority given by the Government holds goad as long as the exchange is below Is. 6d. Hereditary ,Diseases, so-called, come largely from a weak, emaciated condition, when the system has not the energy to throw off disease. General debility is a weakened state, and breeds disorders. Scott's Emulsion creates a fountain of strength and energy in the system, more than counterbalancing weaknesses, whether hereditary or otherwise. Chemists seii it, 2s, 6d. and 4s. 6a, 3