The Bossier banner., 1882-11-23

| were
sa1e on their shoulders. She kept he1
son raut prisoner at Gatchina, mutila.
.nS and drugging him when it suited
ief Whim, until he was reduced to the
condition OF sickly animal. But one
uay she ordered him, with his poor little
"1e Mara, to court, that they mipht
see Their child baptized. and here M.
Lambert gives us fervid picture of the
scene, the little Altcsse Imperial on his
silver cushion and the Royal beast of
prey beside him. "The deyout Imnera-
trlce, after the lastprayer was said. lifted
The child high in her arms and aoain de-
voted him to God -
A glimpse into the domestic life of
the day is given in the account of a Pol
ish frlncess, who escaped July, 1879,
from The dungeon of a castle, in which
her husband had kept her immured for
ten years. He pursued her with sixty
Uhlans and captured her on the banks
OF the Dneiper, where she appealed for
ald to the neighboring Rewards. 81
There is, too, Claimant story with
some dramatic points: Among the Grim
maj cases reported from the French
courts in 1880 is that OF a merchant of
toulouse, who in 1865, being heavily in
debt, bought the corpse of a man resemb-
ling himself, dressed it in his own
clothes, locked it up in his vacant cha
teau and then decamped to India. A
month later the body was found and
hastily buried, and after due amount
OF mourning, the widow married AGAIN.
Fifteen years afterward the debtor re-
turned with enough rupees to pay off his
creditors and TO support his old estate
with splendor, but the wife refused to
recognize him, and the second husband
caused his arrest as an impostor.
| On every page of the newspaper are
these imperfect silhoutte pictures Of the
Old times and customs. Packs of stary-
ing wolves descend upon lonely villages
IN France and tear children from their
mothers arms. The black plague attacks
town and leaves one dead in almost
every house. All the villagers assemble
in the chapel, hang a black mortuary
cloth over the bell, and with sad, slow
steps take their way across the hills never
to return. A poet or painter might find
| a suggestion in this old news item
fathers, lovers and mothers departing, in
the soft glow of sunset, leaving behind
the accllrsed hamlet, their homes and
their unburied dead IFt- s5zHs
Or, here is material for hot-pressed
sensational novel. Captain Charles Ross,
of Hammersmith, England, secretly
married the daughter of one of the gent
ry," and soon afterward was ordered to
America. His wife, disguised as a man.
followed him, reached Philadelphia dur
ing It's occupation by the British, and dis
covered him wounded in farm house in
New Jersey. She disclosed herself to
him, and his commanding officer,
touched by the story, sent Ross back to
England on sick leave with letter in
tended to melt the heart of her stern
father. But the exposure had been too
much for her, and we read a month or
two later that 'tMistress Ross was taken
on shore at Liverpool ill, and it was
feared would not reach Hammersmith
alive.''
Here comes riding down the land, out
OF the Arabian Nights Prince from
Muscat to Warsaw, seeking his fortune.
g He is only nineteen" says NJ Lam
bert &C He comes to form himself with
the beaux arts, the sciences of Europe.
He has in his suite thirty persons, horses
OF rare speed, and ten camels laden with
spices and the preserved foods used in
the East.'' 1t might be Sindbad on his
first venture.
The Journal gives an account, too, of
ga monument which the people of the
United States propose to erect in the
square facing the Palais de Justice, in
Philadelphia, to Liberty and Louis XVI"
TO
''that the gratitude of the Republic to
that great sovereign might be known TO
all future ages
Is there any record of such plan in
the annals of old Philadelphia I am
afraid the monument was designed and
built by some jealous penny-a-liner for
NJ. Lambert's paper.
But the actual glimpses of real people
and their doings in this old journal have
a strong fascination in them, though |
really l do not know why we should |
ourselves more for them than for
the Smiths and Browns Of whom we read |
in this morniug' news. But they affect
us as do the human figures in stereo-
scopic pictures, which were caught by
chance as they crossed the landscape.
about them, yet they trouble
us with an uneasy curiosity and sense of
kinship. We want to stop them and
force them to give an account of them
selves.
Unfortunately have not the next year
IF the Journal. These fragments of
human history have no end. l shall
never know whether the poor Polish
Princess was hauled again to her dun
,eon. nor whether that tricky (but in the
md honorable) Claimant gained his wife
Ind estate. or ended his daysi in the gall
eys; nor what was the fate of the boy
Prince from Arabia on his strange pill
srimage. Nor does the fact that they
vi by this time have turned into dust and
lerbage and leaves together satisfy my
one whit.-Rebecca Harding
0dUis, IN Our Continent.
"A preacher was exhorting his unbe-
levers, and his text was 1.-The Flood"
Is he waxed eloquent, he said: s.And