The Sun.
London, England, 1865-09-04 00:00:00

The mortality in .London has decreased in the last
decennium. Whilst in the ten years from 1840-1849 25.1
died per 1,000 inhabitants; in 1850-1859 the mortality fell
to 23.6 per 1,000; so that, to 1,000. deaths "of the first
decennium we had but 946 in the second.

Vaulting Ambition; or, the Pantomimist's

Summersault•

-J-_

Boxing night came, and the curtain rose upon Harlequin
Jack the Giant Killer; or, Old Mother Hubbard, Little Red
Riding Hood, and the Field of Fifty Footsteps. I sat in a
corner of the dress circle with feelings of mingled shame
and dread. I felt like a criminal in the dock, conscious of
his crime, and fearfully awaiting the verdict. In my anxiety
I had no ears for the words, and the first thing that at-
tracted my attention was a round of applause. I anxiously
inquired of my next neighbour what the actor had said to
excite so much enthusiasm ? His reply was—

" What's your little game 2" and ho said it through his
laughter, as if it had been a very good point indeed. Another
roar succeeded, and this time I heard for myself the joke
which was so much approved. It was Mother Hubbard's
exquisite witticism of " Iloilo, boys, there goes another
guy !" At this point, a friend came round to congratu-
late me.

"It's going capitally," he said, " the audicince have taken
it from the first, and you will see it will be all right ;" and
he patted me on the shoulder encouragingly. My face was
like a burning coal. I could have wished the dress-circle
to open and let me quietly into the earth. My own pet-
jokes and neatly-turned witticisms scarcely excited a smile,
excepting from some undemonstrative people in the stalls,
who were too genteel to applaud.

My friend evidently took the redness of my face for the
flush of triumph ;it was the crimson of shame. But what
could I say ? Was not the piece going capitally ? When
the Giant said, " How's your poor feet !" a yell of delight
burst from the audience. As for the " Cure," it was en-
cored twice, and the applause continued for several minutes,
and was perfectly deafening. My friend came round again
to slap me decisively on the shoulder, and say I was a
made man.

My success was too much for me ; and amid a storm of
applause caused by Jack (entirely on his own responsi-
bility) asking the Giant "where he was going on Sunday 2"
I fled from the intoxicating scene, and went forth to cool
my fevered brain. Presently I found myself behind the
scenes, the storm of applause raging more fiercely than
ever. It was at the end of the opening, and the transfor-
mation scene was on. There was a call. It was for the
manager, in acknowledgment for the amount of gold-
leaf he had lavishedupon the Dell of Delight. There was
another call. It was for the artist who had designed the

Dell of Delight, and spread the gold-leaf which the ma-
nager had paid for. There was a third call. It was for
the author, and I plainly heard the voice of my friend
above all the others, and leading them.
I muttcried to myself "Never !" but the manager came
up at that momenf, and, pushing me towards the curtain,
said, " Go on ! go on !"
I had no time to resist. The prompter pulled back the
curtain, told me sharply to take off my hat, the manager
gave me a shove, and there I was on the stage bowing to
the public.

Ah, little did I dream that I was bowing my neck in
the dust to be trampled upon degraded ! Next morning
the critics were loud in their praises of my Pantomime.

It "sparkled with puns and parodies and smart allusions
to the topics of the day, and kept the audience in a roar of
laughter from beginning to end." As for the author, he
'was congratulated on the circumstance that he would
wake that morning and find himself famous as a writer of
Pantomime. Other writers in the same department were
warned to look to their laurels.
I must confess that it was with a sense of triumph that
I read this. Not that I was proud of my Pantomime: BUt
I was now a dramatic author, and the market was open to
me. Now for my tragedy !
I took the earliest opportunity of trying the market with
that commodity. I offered it right and left. No one
would have it. Not that the article was not in demand ;
but no one would buy of me. "My dear sir, tragedy is
not in your line ; stick to pantomime, that is your forte."
" Tragedy ! My dear fellow, oh, nonsense ; if you have

got a good short, smart, rattling farce now—"
Such was the invariable reply ; and such has been the
reply to this hour, whenever I have proposed to do any
work of a higher order than a, pantomime, a farce, or a
comic sketch. Yet I am a poet. I could prove it if I
could only find an editor to insert my verses. What was
the reply the other clay when I proposed a paper on the
Sublimation of Thought as exemplified in the Philoctetes
of S2phocles. This :
"II am rather afraid of that subject; suppose you write
something about the Pantomime—which is more in your
line." Well ; here it is.—Hallidays Every Day Papers.

Collision on'the London and North-Western

Railway.
Late on Saturday night a collision took place on the
London and North-Western Railway at Wolverhampton.
The train which leaves Liverpool at 6 39 p.m. is timed to
'reach Wolverhampton on its way to Birmingham at 10 5.
' On Saturday it was 15 minutes late; but later still was
a train due over the Grand Junction from Walsall to Wol-

verhampton. At about 10 25 the Liverpool train, consist-
ing of some eight or ten carriages, was at the platform at
the north end of the Queen-street station in Wolverham-
ton, and the tickets were being collected, when the Walsall
train came up at a rapid rate and ran into the Liverpool
train with a terrible crash. To the passengers it seemed as
if the train, after striking the first time, rebounded, and
that there were a series of collisions. The passengers were
impelled against one another and against the framework of
the carriages with painful violence, and what appeared to
be the repeated concussions had the effect of greatly in
creasing their fears. The engine of the Walsall train dashed
into an emptyhorsebox which formed the tail of the Liver-
pool train, destroyed it, and forced the ruins into the
guard's van, which was next. The guard escaped with some
shocks. The passengers were not, however, so fortunate,
and the railway authorities have the names of eight on
their list who received surgical aid on the spot, and are most
of them at hotels in the town. So great was the force
with which the horsebox was shattered that the upper
framework is almost entirely separated from the bottom
and wheels. The buffers at one end are doubled up, and at
the other broken off ; while the buffers at the end of the
guard's van nearest to the horsebox are similary destroyed,
one end of the van broken in by the horsebox having been
thrown up and forced in. The case of one of the families in-
jured is very painful. It is that of Mr. William Beacon,
jeweller and watchmaker, of Warrington. He was travelling
with his sister, his wife, and a child, and a nephew, to be
present at the interment of his brother at Coventry. Mrs.
Beacon sustained a severe contusion:on the loft side of the
face. Her husband has sustained a cut on the bridge of
the nose. Mrs. Beacon was taken to the Swan Hotel,
where she lies suffering from somewhat extensive scalp
wounds and internal injuries. Also, at the Swan, there
are the wife of Mr. Charles Savatard, of the Vesper Bell,
Chester-le-street, Ladywood, Birmingham : and the wife
of Mr. Priest, of 16, Oozel-street North, Birmingham.
Mrs. Savatard is suffering from severe contusions to the
knee of the left leg, which is very much swollen, and also
from a paiiiful cut over the right eye. Mrs. Priest is also
similarly injured upon the face. The surgeons who are
attending these patients say it will not be safe for them to
be moved for some few days. The wounds upon the head
have been sewn up in each case. Another injured passen-
ger was Mr. Hust, surgeon-dentist, of Wolverhampton,
who is suffering from extensive injuries to the scalp and a
contused leg. Lying in different parts of the town are two
other persons, inhabitants. The accident would seem to
be unaccountable from any cause other than gross negli-
gence on the part of the driver of the Walsall train, whose
name is Edward Jarvis, and who has been a long while in
the service of the company. The signals, it seems to be
admitted, were .on at "full danger," and he could have
seen them far enough away to enable him to stop in time
to prevent an accident. Moreover, the signals at that
point aro always on at "caution." The line is on an
ascent of 1 in 100, and he would himself have had to stop
at the platform at which the accident happened.