BITS FROM BOOKS.

Evening Star, Issue 6711, 1 October 1884, Page 1 (Supplement)

BITS FROM BOOKS.

m MEN' AT MARRIAGES.

The difficulty, however, is not always made on the side of the lady. On one occasion the bridegroom wished to deliver a little oration qualifying his vow, and describing in what sense and to what txtent he was using the words of the formula. He was of course given to understand that nothirg of this kind could be permitted. There was one man who accompanied tho formula with solto voce remarks, which must have been exceedingly disagreeable to the officiating minister. He interpolated remarks after the fashion of Burchell's "Fudge !" "With this ring I thee wed ;' that's superstition." "With my body I ' thee worship; that idolatry." "With all j my worldly goods I thee endow; that's a lie." It is a wonder that such a being was not conducted out of church by the beadle, ] This puts one in mind of an anecdote that was told of a man who in his time waa a Cabinet Minister. There was a great discussion on the question whether a man can marry on three hundred a-year. "All I can say," said the great man, "is that when I said ' With all my worldly goods I thee endow,' so far from having three hundred pounds, I question whether, when all my debtß were paid, I had three hundred pence." "Yes, my love," said hi 3 wife; "but then you had your splendid intellect.' "I didn't endow ycu with that ma'am," sharply retorted the right hon. husband,— 'London Society.'

A PORTRAIT OF C'HIXJSSJi UOKI'OX, In person General Gordon is slight and short. His appearance is more suggestive of activity than stateliness, and nothing can be more unassuming than his manner. There is a beautiful child-like simplicity abouthis smile, which recalls, by a certain curious association of ideas, the impression produced by the first sight of Mr Carlyle. But there is something about his lower face suggestive of latent "hardness," of a will thct can be as of iron, and of a decision that shrinks not at hewing Agag in pieces before the Lord should the necessity unfortunately arise. In him a sympathy as impulsive and as tender as that of a woman is united with the fierceness and daring of an ancient Viking. The man i 3 positively unique in this combination of Puritan and "Crusader, humanitarian and soldier, revolutionist and man of order, idealist and man of affairs, that our times havo seen. Never was there any man so difficult to follow or so easy to understand. "Gordon," said one who knew him well, "was created for the express purpose of confounding all newspaper editors. He never says the same thing twice or sticks to one opinion two hours together. et, by those who are capable of looking below the surface and clearing away the apparcut inconsistencies, there will be found a clear silver thread of consistent purpose running through all his impulsive vagariee of thought and

expression." To the creatures of routine and humdrum General Gordon is a sheer I lunatic. To the official with his red tape and straight lace he is a bete noir. A Governor-General of the Soudan, who interrupts his administrative duties in order to try to nurse a starving little black baby back nto life ; the patron saint of the Anti slavery Society, who legitimatises the slave trade by I a decree and resolves upon appointing the king of the slave-traders ?;s sovereign of Khartoum, is not a man to he described by any formula; he m:i3t be classed by himself. So men who have not a tithe of his administrative genius, or his shrewd political sagacity, shrug their shou'ders and scy that Gordon is mad. And, of course, if they themselves arc the type of true sauity, they are right; but if so, then he is one of those madmen whose madness is of the nature of inspiration. Gordon's eccentricities, of whieh many strange stories are told, his impulsiveness, his u: reasoning generosity, do not in the least impair the marvellous irifluenoe whieh he seems to exert on all with whom he comes in contact.—From an article by W, T. Stead, in fche 'August Century,' i A NTOUY AIM'UT TIfACKI'.ItAY. !

I | Some years ago the following story an- i i peared in an American journal purporting to j , be written by a well-informed correspondent! 'in New York.] " Now that lam talking of literary men, 1 want to repeat a good story which was told me the other day tf the little quarrel which <lohn G. Whittier had with Thackeray. Whittier, as you know, is very reserved, and the story comes through a friend of his brother for the first time to the public. When Mr Whittier was in Loudon many years ago, he was made a Hon by the literary people of the metropolis. The father of Pendcnnie and Becky Sharp was prominent among his entertainers, and among other things he honored him by a dinner at his club. Whittier and Thackeray went together in Thackeray's carriage to the club rooms. At the dinner much wine was drank, as is the custom at ail such feasts in England. Thackeray seemed to have no limit in his capacity in thi3 direction, and drank bottle after bottle, apparently without being in the least affected by it. He was as witty and clear-headed as though he had j been taking nothing but soda. Whittier was temperate, and drank but little. As j morning \-rept on, however, and the feast j ended, Thackeray succumbed, and, on leaving, his valet had to carry him to the carriage. On the way home he became maudlin, and throw his arms around Whittier's neck, vowing cternel friendship. In short, he acted so that Whittier grew thoroughly cugiuted and lcfc, resolving to have nothing more to do with Thackeray." [This s'ory is quoted in the volume from which we take the following comments upon it.] "It is sad to think of Thackeray as such a toper ; but what has the ordinary reader to say concerning a circumstantial account like this, and by one with such an evident knowledge of the customs of London dubs ? It i 3 'from a friend of Whittier's brother,'too, and so is authentic. If Thackeray had been helped into his carriage by bis ' valot,' that, of course, was proof positive. And to be hugged by a great strapping Englishman in a maudlin and slobbery way ! No wonder the said Quaker resolved to have nothing more to do with him. The mere, because Whittier drinks no wine, and never did, having be.n all his life a total abstainer. He is ateo averse to late hours and club dinner?, and eats (sparingly) at midday as his ancestors did. One is quite sure he was i never out of hie bed ' when morning crept j on.' He has always been averse, likewise, | to playing the lion, even in our small city of j Boston, and has generally fled from any j public demonstration. There is a further i difliculty. He could not well have dined at a swell club in London with Thackeray, '■ because he was rever in that city, and . never crossed the Atlantic. Finally, he lately assured the present writr r that he had never'met' Thackeray anywhere, and had never oven seen him. So the Btory vanishes like a guilty ghost. Of such trustworthy materials are many biographies composed." —" John Greer leaf Whittier : A Biography." < By Francis H. Underwood, :

AN ELEIMIANT JIITXT IN THE EAST,

Oil the Q-.icen's Birthday and the day following it the khodda party in the Duars, | conducted by Mr J. Shillingford, were fortu- ' Dato enough in catching seven wild elephants by the nooning process, This makes the total number now captured twenty-eight. .' On the former day the noosing party, I mounted on their huskies (fast ta:pc ' t elephants trained to the work), proceeded up the Joitee River, near Buxa, at grey dawn, and soon e?pied a herd feeding along ' the bank of that river. Approaching stealthily from different directions to within a short distance, by a sudden movement the kunkies were amid the unsuspecting quarry, : and had Becured four before the terriOed herd rushed headlong sncl disappeared into ' the adjoining forest. Among the captives waa a tine young tusker about sJ.it high. They were ail lashed between the tame ones and conveyed to camp, a long distance ciT, and thovo tethered for the night. Towards the small hours of the morning a great com- ' motion where the elephants were encamped aroused everyone, and a large female elephant coul 1 be just discerned moving about restlessly among the trees where the captured ones were tied. Being too dark at the time to attempt noosing, some of the kunkies were equipped with the rope-gear and kept in readiness, silence was enforced, t and the appearance of daylight anxiously ' watched. The wild one very soon discovered the object of her search, when, with a cry of joy, she took up her position alongside of the young tusker above re-' ferred to, and began caressing him all J over with the trunk. The youngster made , frantic efforts then to liberate himself, the ! mother encouraging all the while, and when panting he would fall to the ground ex- ■ hausted °he would endeavor to pick him up. ! This excessive affection cost her her liberty. ' As soon as there was sulficient daylight for ' the purpose, within a few yards of her off- ' spring, she was noozed, as, on the approach : of danger, she was reluctantly moving away. I It is really wonderful how she managed to ' trace her yourg to the camp. The distance cannot be less than eight miles, while the track lay through dense forest, and the trail i was mixed up with those of at least some I fifteen other elephants both tame and wild. I She must have waited until it was dark, and \ then followed the track, reaching camp i between 1 and 2 a.m. The sense of smell j must be developed to a marvellous degree in j elephants. On two occasions, when mothers j with calves have been captured and led 1 away their young have followed and been secured in camp, while another cult", a small Buckling, is in camp with its mother and j is kept loose. Tf anyone tries to approach it runs up to to the mother for protection, or } che moves about among the captives without any fear or hesitation. The usual style of feeding wild elephants, when first taken, is to lash them to the side of a tamo oue, and lead out to grazf. Some of the tame females here have taken a great fancy to calves entrusted to their care, and if by mistake a new one is brought up she evinces her disI like to the change by kicking out the ut..rortunate intruder. Elephants, it it•,.=.:. be j admitted, arc curious animals, and the mere i you see of them the greater the interest I generated regarding their habits.—'Ben--1 digo and Tea Planters' Gazette.'

TUKCO'MAX CRUELTY

In Mr Charles Marvin's work "Recon-| noitring Central Asia " occurs the following passage from Yambury's description of his experiences in Central A?ia :—I entered the tent of Khaudjan ."iter the morning prayer and found a noble company listening, with the greatest attention to the narrative of a young Turcoman, who was covered v/ith dust and dirt, aud whose face bore evident traces of excitement aud severe hardship. He was describing in a low voi'.'c but in lively colors a marauding excursion against the Persians of the evening before, in which he had taken part. Whilst h3 was speaking, the women, servants, and slaves (what must have been the thoughts of these latter !) squatted down round the circle of listeners, and many a curse was hurled at the slaves, the clanking of the chains on their feet interrupting for the time the general quiet. It struck me as remarkable that in proportion as the speaker warmed in describing the obstinate resistance of the unfortunate people who were fallen on unawares, the indignation of the andionco increased at the audacity of the Persians not to havo at oncß quietly submitted to being plundered. No sooner was the narration of this great feat of arms at an end, when all arose to their feet to have a look at the spoils, the sight of which excites in the

Turcoman's breast a mingled feeling of envy and pleasure. I followed them likewise, and a terrible picture presented itself to my eyes. LyiDg down in the middle of the tent were two Persians, looking deadly pale and covered with clotted blood, dirt, and ( dust. A man was busily engaged putting , their broken limb 3 into fetters, when one of j them gave a loud, wild shriek, the rings of j the cham being too small for him. The i cruel Turcoman was about to fasten them i forcibly round his ankles. In a corner sat' I two young children on the ground, pa'e n.nd ( trembling, and looking with sojrowfi'.l eyes towards the tortured Persian. The uiihappy j man was their father ; they longed to weep, but dared no' ; one look at the robber, at whom they stole a glance now and again, with their teeth chuttering, was suiiicient to suppress their tears. In another corner a girl, from fifteen to sixteen years old, was crouching, her hair dishevelled and in confusion, her garments torn ar d almost entirely covered with blood. Shegroaned and sobbed, covering her face with her hands. Some Turcoman woman, move J cither by compassion or curiosity, asked her what ailed her, and whore she was wounded. " I am not wounded," she exclaimed, in a plaintive voice, deeply touching. " This blood is the Wood of my mother, my only one, and thb best and kindest of mothers. Oh! ana djan, o'lUi dian (dear mother) ! " Thus she lamented, striking her head against the trclisscd woodwork of the tent, so that it almost tumbled down. They offered her a draught of water, and her tongue became loosened, and sho told them how she (of course a valuable prize) hid been lifted into the saddle beside the robber, but that her mother, tied to the stirrups, had been obliged to run along on foot. After an hour's running in this manrer, she grew so tired that she sank down exhausted every moment. The Tnrkoman tried to increase her strength by lashing her with his whip, but this was of no avail; and as he did not want to remain behind away from his troop, he grew in a rage, drew his sword, and in a second struck off her head. The blood spurting up, had covered the daughter, horseman, and horse ; and, looking at the | red spots upon hei- clothes, the poor girl I wept loudly and bitterly. I