Entries from October 2006 ↓

H. C. Dodge, reported in Buchanan’s Journal of Man, October 1887

People in Paris have been deceived recently by two remarkable beggars. One was an old widow of over 80. She had been living in a house in the Rue du Texel, upon the charity of the other lodgers. She was an object of pity, this distressed, yet ladylike and gentle old woman, and the little purse made up for her each week was contributed to gladly by those who were under the same roof with her. Her room remained locked for over forty-eight hours and the police were called in. The old woman lay upon her bed. A doctor was called. He said she was dead, and an examination indicated that the cause was starvation. There seemed to be nothing work making an inventory of, but the police investigated perfunctorily and under a heap of rubbish they found 3,500 francs in large bank notes. A more careful search revealed in the straw of her bed a heap of bonds and other securities to the value of 30,000 francs. The “poor” old woman’s heirs are being sought for, but there is not the faintest clue to them.

A clever swindler presented himself in Paris under the guise of a deaf mute. He was first noticed by the police while conducting an energetic begging campaign from house to house. Upon being arrested he went into an energetic pantomime, to which the officers paid little attention. In the police station he suddenly lost his infirmity and uttered a torrent of invective against the police. It was afterwards found out that, speaking five languages, he had plied his trade in all the countries of Europe and with remarkable success. His method of operation was to visit only the houses of the wealthy and to strike for large sums. In Paris his operations netted him not less than fifty francs a day. He would first write tot he families he intended to visit. They were always of the foreign colony. The letters would detail his pitiable state. They were well written and seemed to have the impress of truth upon them. A few days later he would call, and, contriving to be seen by master or mistress, would show a host of certificates of physicians, mayors of cities and commissaries of police in proof of what he had written. The interviews with these wealthy people were naturally had upon paper, and the answers to the questions put to him would be so beautifully and carefully written that they would seldom fail to win the sum sought. This young man–Gustav Remshager–is now held by the police, and his conviction is practically assured.

Obed Hussey; Who, of All Inventors, Made Bread Cheap, edited by Follett L. Greeno.

Books like this one make me appreciate professional editing. There’s something about page after page of testimonial that makes me want to shout “enough already!” Thanks to the anonymous post-processor for putting up with it and producing this text.

Bookp(h)ile

The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine, Volume 23, Issue 2.

Volume Bookp(h)ile

During a recent religious festival at Alvartirunagari, on the banks of the Tambramini, a terrible tragedy was enacted by an elephant. Like most large temples this has its periodical festivals, one of which has just been celebrated. Certain elephants were brought down from Nunguneri and Tinnevelly for the festivities of the occasion. All went smoothly till, unfortunately, the large elephant of Nunguneri, being in a rut, run amuck. The mahout unwittingly took up a little child (son of the Temple Darmakartha) and placed it in front of him on the neck of the elephant. Alarmed at the state of the elephant, the mahout endeavored to quietly pass the child out of danger by handing it to somebody behind. He was not quick enough to elude the sagacity of the elephant, which snatched up the child, put it into his mouth, and began munching it. The mahout, horrified at the sight, jumped down and tried to extricate the child, which he succeeded in doing, but not before the child was well nigh dead. Indeed, it only breathed for a few minutes afterward, and then expired. Enraged beyond all bounds, the animal became furious, and in its mad rage seized the mahout, dashed him to the ground, and then trampled out any little breath that might have still remained in the body. And here comes a strange and touching incident. Repenting seemingly of his awful misdeed, the elephant gathered up what was the moment before his master, proceeded to his (the mahout’s) house, and, depositing his mournful burden at his door, passed on. The people generally, in great dread, closed their doors and windows. The elephant wildly rushed along the streets and came to the temple, the door of which, too, had been closed. It thereupon battered the door, and passing into the enclosure, furiously attacked the little elephant of Tinnevelly, which it pierced with its tusks and soon killed. Emerging thence, the elephant rushed madly along the river close by, where it began throwing mud and sand all over itself. In the meantime, the police constables had got their muskets loaded, and, climbing out of danger, took potshots at the furious animal, which they eventually succeeded in disabling and ultimately killing.

[tags]Ann Arbor Register, September, 1895[/tags]

Continue reading →

1. I have unintentionally omitted to name Falconer, who deserves the highest honors among nautical writers.[back]

The “Editor’s Table” in The Knickerbocker is full of well, this and that. Lots of editorializing, some jokes, correspondence (including from contributors), reviews of other magazines… and it is so densely printed it is really hard to read. When you go read a Knickerbocker (like this one, perhaps?), be sure to enlarge your font. Your eyes will thank you.¹

One of the other magazines they read (and report on) frequently is Punch, or the London Charivari, usually to laugh at its jokes. For instance, from the February 1844 “Editor’s Table”:

Punch’s ‘Literary Intelligence’ is very full. From it we gather that the author of the ‘Mothers,’ ‘Wives,’ ‘Maids,’ and ‘Daughters’ of England has another work in press, entitled ‘The Grandmothers of England.’ ‘No grandmother’s education will be complete till she has read and re-read ‘The Grandmothers of England.’ The book is the very best guide to oval suction extant.’

I’m wondering, though, why do grandmothers know how to suck eggs? Do you have to be a grandmother to do it?

1. Too bad for the original readers — they didn’t have the same opportunity to spare their sight and had to read the tiny (Agate?) print by candlelight.[back]

A mere accident, less strange, to be sure, than that which made Berthold Schwarz invent gunpowder, but which, nevertheless, must be regarded as a hint of Providence, directed him to another, and we can now say, the only right way. It was thus: It sometimes happened that quantities of percussion caps were sent back to him, having been spoiled by moisture. In order to prevent this, Dreysse conceived of the idea of protecting them against dampness by covering them with a thin film of paper. The result proved to be the very opposite, for the paper attracted moisture, and a very large order, which had been constructed in this way, was sent back to him, as they were entirely spoiled and unfit for use. This was a great loss to the firm, as copper was very dear at that time. In order to obtain the copper of the caps for further manufacturing purposes. Dreysse decided to remove the fulminating composition. In order to effect this with as little loss of time as possible, he wanted to do it by explosion. After various unsatisfactory attempts, the idea occurred to him of accomplishing it by means of a pin or needle constructed for that purpose. This experiment proved to be entirely successful, and like lightning the idea struck him of using the needle altogether for exploding the cartridge. Not less quickly a second idea dawned on his mind–that of removing the entire explosive material into the cartridge, to save the expensive copper used heretofore for caps. This was the first important step in the construction of the Prussian needle-gun. Dreysse at once set to work, and in the beginning of 1829 the first needle-gun was made.–Hours at Home.

[tags]Peninsular Courier and Family Visitant, December, 1867[/tags]